‘Thanks,’ Max framed, pausing to drop a kiss on the top of her head and then shifting free of her with alacrity to leave the bed.
Thanks? Tia ruminated, savouring the split-second, casual kiss but disappointed by the cut and run that followed. Why had he thanked her? Hadn’t she enjoyed herself as much as him? Next time she would thank him, she resolved. She could be polite too. In fact she would out-polite him in spades and see how he liked being thanked as if he had provided a service with his body! But what wonderful service he gave, she reflected helplessly.
‘What are we doing today?’ she asked.
‘Apparently you’re seeing the family lawyer after breakfast. And no, I don’t know what it’s about. Andrew doesn’t tell me everything,’ Max admitted.
A couple of hours later, a little man with an egg-shaped bald head and wire-framed spectacles studied her across Andrew’s desk in the library. ‘All you have to do is sign these papers,’ he told her, fanning out a selection of documents in front of her.
‘But what is this about?’
‘Your inheritance, of course,’ he said in surprise. ‘Your grandmother became a wealthy woman during the course of her marriage to Andrew and she left her estate in trust for her grandchildren. You are the only grandchild and I am now releasing those funds to you.’
Tia blinked in bewilderment. ‘I have an inheritance?’ she gulped.
‘Now that you’re resident in the UK, you do. Your grandmother stipulated that any grandchild had to be resident in this country to qualify, which is why you haven’t heard of this bequest before,’ he explained patiently.
‘How much money is involved in this?’ she asked incredulously.
‘I haven’t had a recent valuation for the jewellery that’s included, and of course her bequest is modest in comparison to your grandfather’s holdings,’ he warned her, ‘but I would estimate that her estate is currently worth, well, almost four hundred thousand pounds...’
In shock, Tia froze with the pen in her hand. ‘And it’s...mine?’ she exclaimed in disbelief.
‘Unconditionally yours,’ the older man declared.
Tia signed, stumbling out of the door minutes later to track down Max and tell him that the grandmother she had never met had been kind enough to make her a wealthy woman. Max was infuriatingly unimpressed by that revelation.
‘It’s ours now...that money,’ Tia pointed out, trying to win a more enthusiastic response from him. ‘Don’t you understand that?’
‘I have plenty of money of my own,’ Max divulged gently, amusement tugging at his beautiful mouth. ‘Now thanks to your grandmother you have a nest egg and I’m happy for you.’
Tia calmed down. ‘I’d like to make a substantial donation to the convent to help the sisters with their work.’
Max nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘You can do whatever you like with your inheritance, bella mia. While you are with me, however, you will never need to use it,’ Max told her smoothly.
‘So, what’s mine is yours doesn’t cut both ways?’ Tia gathered stiffly.
‘I have a visceral need to keep my own wife. Call it the caveman in me,’ Max advised.
Tia breathed in deep and slow. They were not going to argue about money. He didn’t want what he saw as hers...fine! Seemingly he was well enough off to consider her inheritance as a cosy little nest egg barely worthy of excitement. ‘And what about when I find a job?’
Max looked at her in astonishment and an eyebrow elevated. ‘A job?’
‘Yes. I haven’t decided what I want to do yet but I do want to work. I’m not sure I want to do any more studying though,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘Take your time and think it over. Andrew supports several charities. Volunteer work could be a practical option for you to begin with,’ he suggested.
That night Tia came awake with a start when Max made a sound and she switched on the bedside light, only then registering that he was still asleep and clearly dreaming. The bedding was in a tangle round his long, powerful body, perspiration gleaming on his bronzed skin as he cried out again in Italian and in obvious distress. In dismay she shook his shoulder and voiced his name to waken him.
‘You were having a bad dream.’
Max threw himself back against the pillow, breathing rapidly and raking his fingers through his tousled black hair. ‘I don’t get bad dreams,’ he countered defensively.
‘You could talk to me about it,’ Tia told him ruefully, not believing that he didn’t get bad dreams for even a second. ‘I wouldn’t tell anyone else. You can trust me.’