Claimed for the Leonelli Legacy

For once Max experienced no inner warmth at being included in Andrew’s family and his lean, strong face remained taut, his hard jaw line clenched. He was furious with himself. He knew his lack of enthusiasm had hurt and distressed Tia. He had allowed his emotions to control him, filling him with a fearful sense of insecurity. Man up, his intelligence urged him with derision. Be an optimist, not a pessimist. If he put his mind to it, surely he was capable of being a good father?

‘I’m very tired,’ Tia admitted at the foot of the stairs. ‘Perhaps we could talk tomorrow.’

‘You go on up to bed,’ her grandfather urged cheerfully. ‘Max and I will have a nightcap to celebrate.’

‘You’re not supposed—’ she began.

‘One drink,’ Andrew specified with a wry grin. ‘Surely even the doctor would not deny me that on a special occasion?’

Tia mounted the stairs, striving not to relive Max’s reaction to her pregnancy. She fingered her pendant with its ninety-odd diamonds as she removed her jewellery. A diamond for every day she and Max had been together. She had thought that that was so romantic but obviously it had just been a gesture, the sort of gesture a man made when he wanted to look like a devoted new husband. That newly acquired cynicism shocked her, but what else was she to think?

Tia clambered into bed and, in spite of her unhappy thoughts, discovered that she was much too tired to lie awake. She slept, waking as dawn light broke through the curtains to find Max shaking her shoulder.

Max gripped her hand, which struck her as strange and she frowned up at him. ‘What’s wrong?’ she framed.

‘You have to be very brave,’ he breathed with a ragged edge to his dark deep voice.

Tears were shimmering in his liquid dark eyes and that fast, she knew. ‘Andrew?’ she exclaimed.

‘He passed away in his sleep during the night. A fatal heart attack. I’m sorry, Tia...’

A sob formed in Tia’s tight throat. She didn’t think she could bear the pain. Max and Andrew together had been her support system but Max had let her down the night before and now Andrew was gone as well. In a world that now seemed grey, she wondered how she could go on and then she remembered her baby and knew that she had more strength than she had ever given herself credit for.

CHAPTER EIGHT

TIA SAW HER MOTHER, Inez, seated inside the church and almost stumbled on the way to the front pew.

‘What is it?’ Max murmured.

‘My mother’s here,’ she framed, dry-mouthed.

‘Well, Andrew was her father-in-law for a while,’ Max conceded. ‘Perhaps she felt a need to pay her respects.’

But the former Inez Grayson, now Inez Santos, was not a religious, respectful nor, for that matter, a sentimental woman. And her presence at Andrew’s funeral shook her daughter, who had not seen her parent in almost ten years. The past few days had turned into a roller coaster of grief, disbelief and anger for Tia. Max had kept his distance, using another bedroom after telling her that he didn’t want to ‘disturb’ her. Tia had run the gamut of frightening insecurities. Was her pregnancy such a turn-off that he didn’t want to be physically close to her any longer? Or did Max need privacy to come to terms with his own grief at the loss of the man who had done so much to support him when he was young and vulnerable? And, moreover, who had expressed his confidence in Max to the extent of making him CEO of one of the largest business concerns in the UK.

It would be typical of Max to choose not to share that grief with her. He was much more likely than she was to wall up his feelings and hide them, particularly when he was already very much aware that he was not actually related to his former mentor except by marriage. It hurt her that yet another event that she felt should have brought them closer had in fact driven them further apart. They had both fondly trusted that Andrew would be spared to them for another few months and unhappily they had learned that no timer could be set on death. Her grandfather’s heart had given out under the strain of his illness and that was God’s will, Tia reminded herself, and she would not question that.

‘The minute I heard I dropped everything to come to you!’ Inez gushed as she intercepted Tia on the church steps. ‘You need your mamae now more than ever.’

‘Your maternal concern comes a little late in the day,’ Max murmured with lethal cool.

As a muscle pulled tight on Inez’s perfectly made up and undeniably exquisite face, guilt assailed Tia because, for the first time, her mother looked her almost fifty years. ‘You’re welcome back at the house,’ she forced herself to declare.

‘Why did you invite her?’ Max asked drily as soon as they were back in the limousine. ‘You know Cable’s waiting to read Andrew’s will and she can’t be present for that.’

‘Inez can mingle with the other guests,’ Tia retorted. ‘Whatever else she is, she’s still my mother. I should respect that.’

And not for the first time, Tia resented the reality that the funeral had been rushed to facilitate the will reading because the stability of her grandfather’s business empire depended on smooth continuity being re-established as soon as was humanly possible. It was all to do with stocks and shares, she recalled numbly, the weariness of stress and early pregnancy tugging at her again.

She took her seat in the library with Andrew’s other relatives for the reading of the will. The lawyer read out bequests to long-serving staff first before moving on to the children of Tia’s grandmother’s siblings. Disappointment then flashed across a lot of faces and Tia stopped looking, thinking that people probably always hoped for more than they received in such cases and, mindful of her own inheritance, she was determined not to be judgemental. Silence fell as Mr Cable moved on to the main body of the will and the disposition of Andrew’s great wealth.

Redbridge Hall and its contents were left in perpetuity to Tia and any children she might have, along with sufficient funds to ensure its maintenance and a sizeable private income for her support, but the bulk of Andrew’s money and his business holdings were left exclusively to Max. Only if Tia and Max divorced would there be any change in that status quo and, even then, Max would have the final word on every decision taken in that situation.

A shocked muttering burst out amongst Tia’s companions as a wave of dissension ran around the room. Tia was disconcerted by the will but not surprised, having long since recognised that her grandfather’s strongest desire had always been to ensure that Grayson Industries survived for future generations. Building Grayson Industries into an international empire had been Andrew’s life’s work, after all, and, as far as Tia could see, how he chose to dispose of his life’s work and earnings had been entirely his business.

As threats to take the will to court and distasteful insinuations and accusations about Andrew’s state of mind and undue influence being used on him were uttered, the lawyer mentioned that Andrew had taken the precaution of having a psychiatric report done a couple of months earlier to make bringing a court case on such grounds virtually impossible. He also intimated that his employer had for several years been very frank about his hope that Max would marry his granddaughter and take permanent charge of his empire. Amidst much vocal bad feeling, Tia rose from her seat and quite deliberately closed her hand round Max’s, for as far as she was concerned Andrew’s last wishes were sacrosanct and she did not want anyone to think that she stood anywhere but on Max’s side of the fence.

Not that Max, his dark head held high as they left the library, seemed to be in need of her support, particularly not when those also present at the will reading spread amongst the other guests. A low, intent murmur of chatter soon sounded around them and Tia could tell that she and Max were the centre of attention. Her face went pink at that acknowledgement but Max seemed gloriously impervious to the interest of other people.