Take Two: An Erotic Romance (Book 1) (2 page)

“Lastly,” Mr. Williams, head of the law firm intoned, “Miss Amanda
Taylor, great niece of the deceased, Mr. Andrew Scott, is bequeathed the
extensive hedge fund investments of Mr. Andrew Scott, namely Mr. Andrew Scott’s
investments in Dillinger Inc., Mr. Scott’s investments in Coraopolis Inc., Mr.
Scott’s investments in…”

“Wait,” I interrupted, earning myself affronted looks from a few
of the tie-ironing suits. “Uncle Andy left me his investments?”

“If you would let me read from the document,” Mr. Williams said,
“you will be equipped with a full list of the assets bequeathed to you by Mr.
Scott.”

“But – the Dillinger investments? That’s a global company! Those
alone must be worth almost a million dollars!”

“Correct, Miss Taylor. Now: if you would let me continue. Ahem.
Mr. Scott’s investments in…”

But I wasn’t paying attention as he continued to read a list of
investments which now belonged to me. I already knew the only thing I needed to
know: Uncle Andy had left me his lifetime of achievement – and millions of
dollars’ worth of investments to boot.

I was only eleven years old the first time he let me sit in the
corner of his office with my book while he was making investments. We had just
spent the day playing soccer in the field outside his country mansion.

“You’re turning into a real tomboy,” he teased me as I powered the
ball through our makeshift goalposts yet again. My knees were muddy, my cropped
hair was a dark brown tangle and I was panting with exertion, grinning up at my
uncle.

“You’re just getting old,” I taunted him.

“Maybe I am,” he laughed, rubbing ruefully at his bald spot. “A
little too old to stop my energetic little niece from scoring goals, at least.”
He leaned back stretching his body. “Well, I think it’s time to get back
indoors.”

My face fell. “Uncle Andy, please. Just one more goal – I’ll even
let you block it.”

Uncle Andy laughed heartily at my comment and threw the ball back
to me. “Just one more, Mandy. Then it’s back to the office for me, and settling
down with a quiet book for you.”

“But I want to spend time with you,” I whined.

“Well… if you promise to be very quiet, you can read in my office
while I do my work,” Uncle Andy reasoned.”

“For real?”

“Yes – for real. You can even give me a bit of your expert advice
if you like. I’m thinking of making an investment in a soccer team – if you
want, you can help me choose which one.”

Forgetting about the one last goal, I tackled him in a hug. As he
hugged me back, ruffling my tangled hair, I felt a burst of happiness, like a
bubble growing and growing inside me. Uncle Andy had always treated me like an
equal, like a grown up, even as a small child. Now he was showing how much
trust he truly had in me – entrusting me with the investments he built up from
scratch, helping small businesses to grow into successful companies.

As I considered the enormity of what Uncle Andy had given me, I
realized that my life had changed irrevocably. Uncle Andy’s investments were
worth millions of dollars, and the interest alone would mean that I never had
to work again unless I wanted to.

Unbidden, the thought rose in my mind: I could write… The dreams I
had abandoned because I needed to have a practical job floated through my mind,
tantalizing me. I could quit my job as an accountant, turn my back on the three
foot square cubicle and the desk which was essentially laminated cardboard. I
could buy one of these squishy armchairs, hire a few extremely muscular men to
carry it to my apartment and spend my days working on my novel.

I felt dizzy and intoxicated, like I had just been given my first
kiss all over again. Everything I had dreamed of which had been pushed to one
side was suddenly within my grasp, if I was brave enough to reach out and take
it. Was that what Uncle Andy had meant when he wrote that note in the book?

“Miss Taylor? I’d hate to think we were boring you,” the stuffy
old lawyer sneered, peering over his thick glasses to glare at me. I suddenly
felt like a guilty schoolgirl, daydreaming about being a famous writer when I
should be paying attention to the teacher. It was stupid, but even as a 29 year
old woman, highly successful and official people could still make me feel like
a grubby child caught goofing off in class.

“Not at all,” I said in my best cultured voice, resisting the urge
to check my face for smudges of dirt.

“Excellent,” Mr. Williams said briskly. “As I was saying, the will
attaches some rather particular requests to your inheritance.”

My heart immediately clenched – of course, there would have to be
strings attached. No such miracle as free money could ever come bounding in my
direction.

“What conditions?” I asked nervously.

“Mr. Scott guarded his investments closely, and dedicated his
whole life to maintaining them.”

“I know,” I said. “I know how much they mean, I mean, meant to
him.”

“Then you know that he would not merely put them into the hands of
an individual unable to take proper care of the investments. As such, you will
need to undergo training in order to understand how to handle them.”

“Training?” I frowned.

“As you might be aware, a hedge fund is no laughing matter. Not
just any idiot can make money on their investments. Although the investments
your great uncle left you are largely passive and won’t require a great deal of
maintenance, he wished you to be trained in order to take over his investments.
This knowledge doesn’t just grow on trees.” The dry little speech from the
lawyer was dripping with disdain and sarcasm.

“I – does he want me to take a class?” I asked.

“No, absolutely not – Mr. Scott had a protégé, whom he wished to
oversee your education in this matter – Mr. Mathis
Côté.”

“M-Mathis
Côté?” I stuttered. It felt as though I had just been thrown
backwards out of my comfortable seat and straight onto my butt. Mathis Côté! It
had been so long since I had seen him – since he had disappeared entirely from
my life. I looked around the room stupidly, as if I could possibly have missed
him the first time around among the overly-starched businessmen peering at me
as if I had just uttered a curse word. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Mr. Côté will be in charge of training you to take over your
great uncle’s investments,” Mr. Williams repeated. “That is the request stated
in your great uncle’s will.”

As the meeting wound down, I couldn’t shake the feeling of
confusion. Just an hour ago I had been worried about meeting my next deadlines
at work and whether or not I had time to wash my hair before meeting my friend
Sharon for drinks. Now I was the heiress to my Uncle Andy’s lifetime of
investments and I was going to be trained by… Mathis. Our friendship had been
so long ago, but I still remembered it vividly as a time in my life where I had
felt completely happy and carefree. But the way it had ended… I had so many
questions I didn’t know what to think.

My thoughts drifted back to that day in his office again – the
first time my uncle had trusted me to be a part of his work. I resolved not to
disappoint him. I would learn everything I needed to protect his investments.
But seeing Mathis again after all that time… I couldn’t imagine how it would
feel.

I stepped out onto the street after the will reading with a sense
of overwhelming relief. Outside the fancy building, which seemed to have more
stories than I have hairs on my head, somehow everything felt a little less
overwhelming. I was Amanda again, and my life was still my life. My relief was
complete as I heard the familiar honk of a car horn accompanied with a “Mandy –
over here!” I looked in the general direction of the shout and saw my best
friend Sharon’s shiny blonde bob and bright smile through the window of her
little green Chevy.

“Hey,” I said, grateful to see a friendly face after the bland
business crowd in the lawyer’s office.

“Get in,” Sharon instructed, leaning over and opening the door for
me. “We’ll go to Dino’s and you can tell me all about the will reading.”

“Yum,” I said eagerly. Dino’s was a real treat – the best Italian in
the city, complete with the best wine. Since I was taking the day off work and
Sharon worked as a wedding planner – which, she insisted, meant that drinking
was practically a part of her job - I figured we could treat ourselves to a
bottle.

Sharon chattered on about her latest wedding as we drove to the
restaurant, and I let her talk, happy to have a break from my own problems.

“So the groom went out to get his tux without even consulting me,
and came back with a cheap, awful thing which doesn’t go with the bride’s gown
at
all,
and doesn’t even fit him right,” Sharon chattered as we pulled into a
parking spot near the restaurant. “If I were her, I’d find a
new
man.
I’m serious! Anyways, the problem is they always book the honeymoons right
away, and then it’s too late to get a full refund…” she trailed off miserably.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I reassured her. “Love is blind and all
that.”

“Better have no sense of smell either,” said Sharon with a
shudder. “When he took his shoes off to try on the pairs I’d picked out I
thought I was going to hurl.”

“Ew,” I giggled. “Gross.”

“Well, enough about my troubles – how did the will reading go? Any
holidays in the Hamptons in the hand you were dealt?” Sharon grinned
suggestively.

“Well,” I said, frowning. Sharon squealed with excitement.

I paused.

Sharon’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, he left you a house in the
Hamptons!”

“No no, he didn’t,” I laughed at her ecstatic expression.

“Well what did he leave you?” demanded Sharon. Then, crestfallen,
“Oh god, I’m so sorry Mandy. Here I am being a complete money-grabber when your
Uncle Andy’s just died. I know how close you were to him.”

“It’s fine,” I reassured her as her bottom lip began to tremble.
“We were close, but I think I’m ok. We spent a lot of time together when I was
younger, but I didn’t see him very often in the last few years.”

“Still, it must be tough,” Sharon said sympathetically, apparently
ready to make up for her extreme excitement earlier with some best friend
support.

“It’s a little strange,” I admitted. “I remember all the times I
went to stay at his place as a teenager. We’d take his boat out on the lake,
just the – just us. We’d pack a picnic and some ginger ale in a cooler and just
lounge around on the water all afternoon, telling stories and making jokes.”

“That sounds magical,” Sharon sighed.

“It was.” I frowned as I thought back to the times we had taken
his boat out. It hadn’t been just the two of us most of the time. For that one
summer, the one that stood out in my memory, it had been the three of us, me,
Uncle Andy, and Mathis. Even back then, Mathis had been my uncle’s most trusted
friend – almost like a son to him. Perhaps it was because of what I had just
been discussing in the lawyer’s office, but for some reason, I hadn’t felt like
mentioning his name to Sharon.

“I’d love to take a boat out on the lake,” Sharon was saying, her
head resting in her hands and her chocolate brown eyes dreamy. “Me and Ryan,
floating gently on the sparkling water, sharing our secrets over a bottle of
Champagne…”

“Mmm,” I said vaguely. In my mind’s eye, I saw a young Mathis
grinning at me, his baseball cap on at an angle, his button-down shirt slightly
open, handing me a bottle of perfectly chilled ginger ale.

“You need to start dating again, Mandy,” Sharon said. “Otherwise
you’ll have to sail your new boat all alone. Or lend it to me,” she added
coyly.