Wish - Page 35

Stop it. No he’s not. I just have to find him and ask what the hell is up.

“Ginnie, nooo,” she warns. “I know that look in your eyes, and as your attorney, I strongly advise against you getting anywhere near this.”

“You’re not my attorney. And your specialty is intellectual property law.”

“So? I’m your friend, and this has major scandal slash cover-up written all over it. I mean, what if this guy disappeared for a reason? What if his family was involved in some bad stuff? You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“More reason to give back the money. Could be dirty. Could be life insurance money. Or it could be money he stole from the family before he faked his death. Either way, I need to give it back.”

She narrows her eyes. “Just. Walk. Away.”

“And keep tainted money? No thanks.”

“You don’t know that the money is dirty. The other article I read says that right after he died, the family sold their company to some global beverage conglomerate and they retreated from public life.”

“Does it say how much they sold it for?” I ask out of curiosity since he’s giving away millions to random strangers.

“Nope. But they owned several distilleries in Scotland and the US, two of the biggest breweries in Europe, and several top-notch wineries in Italy. Their company had to be worth a lot.”

I give it some thought. “Even if his money comes from that sale, it’s still no reason to keep it.” Bottom line, it’s not mine. I don’t want it.

“Then give it to a school or whatever. But don’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I stare down into my tea. I can’t let this go, and I can’t explain why either. Maybe it’s because there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this, and he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

“Fine,” she huffs, guessing my thoughts. “At least let me do some digging first, just to be on the safe side. I have a friend who handles discreet investigations—”

“No. I’m not letting you get involved. There’s no need. I’m going to find him, give the money back, end of story.”

Vi closes her laptop and eyes me suspiciously. “Why don’t I believe you?”

I lift my chin. “I thank you for your concern, but the last thing I want is to get tangled up in a big, fat scandal, okay? I promise if I don’t find him, then I’ll give the money to needy Manhattan lawyers or crazy glass artists with hang-ups on undead billionaires or something appropriate for the circumstances.” It’s not like he can force me to keep the money or abide by his rules.

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s get some sleep. We have a spa appointment in the morning.”

I crinkle my nose.

“You’re cancelling on me, aren’t you?” She huffs.

“I’m so sorry, Vi. But there’s no way I’m going to relax or enjoy a massage when I’m sitting on something like this.” I doubt I’ll be able to even sleep until I find out what the hell is going on with this guy.

She exhales dramatically. “Man, I can’t believe you’re pulling the ‘I made out with a dead guy’ card just to get out of our date.”

“Vi, seriously?” I cover my mouth, feeling riddled with guilt. “If you’re that upset, of course I’ll g—”

She cracks a smile. “I was just kidding. Of course I understand, but you totally owe me a makeup date.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Please, just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what?” I’m only going to give back his money.

“I saw his picture, Gin. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine you getting a serious thing for him. Any red-blooded woman would be tempted by all that—” she waves a hand through the air “—extreme hotness, dreamy bedroom eyes, and whatever fuck-bod he’s got going on down there.”

I roll my eyes. “I might’ve been a little too trusting in the past when it comes to men, but I’m not an idiot.” I suddenly see Greg’s face smirking at me, a reminder of just the sort of idiot I can be when it comes to love. “Oh, God. I’m so screwed.” I cover my face with my hands. I so want Mr. Wish and his brand of crazy. I had one taste, and I’m already addicted to his “fuck-bod.”

“No. You’re not, Ginnie. Just walk away.”

“I can’t, Olivia. I opened the box of chocolates, and now I need to know what they taste like.”

She shakes her head. “I swear, girl. You’re going to be the death of us both. For me, it’ll be a heart attack worrying about you.”

“Everything’s going to be fine.” What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Seventeen

I call Rose’s Garden Thrift Store several times the next morning during my drive home, but no one answers, so I decide to swing by instead.

Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Romance
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