The Inheritance: A feisty, giggle-inducing romance

By Angie Coleman

What happens when you are forced to live and work with your worst enemy? A feisty romance perfect for fans of Lindsey Kelk and Lucy Diamond.

Twenty-four-year-old ashley Morgan thinks her future is guaranteed when she takes over the reins of her family business. What could go wrong?

But when her father decides to give the job to Jamie Standley, his right-hand man, ashley feels cheated and breaks off all ties with her father.

Three years later at the reading of her late father's Will, she discovers to her horror that Jamie will continue to be director of Morgan & Hall, while she will only receive a small share in the business. But on one condition: that ashley and Jamie work together and live under the same roof for a whole year...

Once again ashley feels betrayed and cheated. To her, Jamie is an impostor and she is determined to make him pay. But forced cohabitation can sometimes have unpredictable consequences...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: May 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781786694294

Angie Coleman

Angie Coleman was born in 1987 in Lanciano, Italy. She graduated from Organization and Social Relations at the University of Chieti. Winner of the 2016 Ilmioesordio prize.

Book preview

Prologue

The taxi is stopping just outside the front door – my home address is 37 Long Street.

Grief, how much I’ve missed home! It’s been six months since I left – it’s a record for someone like me who’s so fond of her home and home town. I lived away from home for five years while studying Economics, the most tedious discipline ever, at university. My only objective during these five years has been to keep afloat, and now I’m glad to be back. I wouldn’t have made it without Alex. I have a degree now and I still have all the energy to show Dad that I can live up to his expectations. I made it.

The air is cold outside, although I can’t help but stand still in front of the door for a few seconds, staring at the building like it’s for the first time. It feels so good to be back that I’m worried I might wake up and realise it’s all a dream. Dad has insisted that we should all celebrate my degree with a dinner tonight because he couldn’t be there at the graduation last month. He has invited Jamie – his business partner – to the dinner, and I sense that he wants to take this opportunity to make an important announcement. I know what he wants to say. That’s why I can’t wait for tonight: Dad is going to announce the new head of Morgan & Hall, the biggest, most important sweet-producing factory in the city, which is also our family business. I have always suspected that Dad cared a little more about his business than about me. I used to be jealous of the fact that Morgan & Hall always had my Dad’s attention, whereas I struggled to get it. When I was little, he used to enjoy sitting in his favourite armchair and telling me how he started the business. He and his best friend Milton Hall, a skilled pastry chef, had enjoyed success from the very beginning. Their recipes are original and have remained a trademark of their business, even after Mr Hall had retired due to unspecified health reasons. When Dad talked about his friend, his eyes shone with the fullest admiration and I have grown up with deep respect for the man who made my Dad’s business so great.

After Hall resigned, Dad carried on working even harder to improve his business. When he began to achieve great results all by himself, Dad taught me the secrets of being a good business manager. Looking back, I have to be honest: he was constantly supported by three older men, who were probably far too lenient with me. Dad is extremely proud of his business and he sponsored my university course for one reason only: he wants me to take over the administrative side. Well, here I am now: I’m ready.

I have the brightest smile as I push the front door open. Gregory, the good old caretaker is sitting on a chair reading his favourite newspaper.

Good evening, Gregory! My greeting is full of excitement.

Good evening, Miss Morgan, welcome back home!

Thank you. Is Dad upstairs?

Yes, he’s waiting for you. Mr Standley is here with him too. He hasn’t changed – nosey as ever. Still, he does his job very well.

I know, it’s a great day today, Gregory! I said to him, then I rush to the lift. On my way upstairs, I can’t avoid reminiscing about how handsome Jamie was. Will he have changed? I don’t know why, but I have the feeling that he belongs to the category of men who look better and better with time. He’s five years older than me, so he must be twenty-nine now. His hair is black – it gives him a somewhat wild look – and very curly. It covers most of his forehead and, sometimes, his eyes. He’s an excellent pastry chef, and that is why Dad has given him a job. I would have given him a job just for his looks… especially his eyes, which seem to penetrate my soul. He’s also a gentleman, I hope he hasn’t lost this quality over the years.

The lift doors open to let me out, I wonder if it’s better to use the key or ring the bell. It’s crazy how being away for six months makes you feel like such a stranger. Still, most of my memories are tied to this apartment: the nights spent listening to Dad’s stories; the occasional visits from my mother, who’s always travelling. My mother brought me so many souvenirs from around the world that I had to devote a whole bookcase to them in my room. My mother and I are very different: the only things we have in common are our passion for books and our hair colour. All the rest is from Dad: my eyes, my temperament. I could never travel around the world forever without a place to settle in – she is a news reporter first and foremost, a wife and mother second. She’s in Brussels right now, if I remember correctly; she might have a new love affair. This must be the fourth man that she’s had since her divorce from Dad, about ten years ago. It’s difficult to keep up with her life, because she rarely ever calls home.

I choose to use the key, eventually.

Dad? I shout at the front door, then I pull off my coat and hang it on the stand next to me. Dad, I’m home!

The first thing I see down the hall is my favourite purple sofa, it looks as comfortable as ever. I feel the urge to crash on it for a few hours. The journey has been exhausting, but I’m not here to snooze. There will be time for lying on the sofa. I’m so happy to be back home!

Ashley, my lovely daughter! Dad makes his appearance from the office which is down the corridor. He walks towards me and hugs me with a joyful smile on his face. He’s holding a cigar between his index and middle fingers.

Still smoking at home, huh? There is no trace of irritation in my question. I never learned to like the smell of his cigars, but this is perhaps the only truly negative aspect of living with Dad.

Can’t betray the good old traditions, Dad laughs. He has never even tried to quit smoking.

Ashley! The voice that speaks my name is incredibly soft, warm and masculine. I like the way he pronounces it.

Jamie! As soon as I lay my eyes on our guest, I realise that I was right about him: Jamie belongs to that category of men whose looks only get better and better over the years. He looks more mature than the last time I saw him, but he has never lost his wild looks and his smile sweeps me off my feet.

It’s great to see you! How are you? He hugs me while he asks this.

Very well, thank you! I bite my lip to refrain from saying ‘especially now that uni is over.’ What about you? You look… fine.

My job kind of makes it difficult to keep fit, he smiles. He looks perfectly fit, despite the enormous amounts of delicious food that he makes.

I bet it’s difficult, I smile back.

Okay then, we have a lot to talk about today. Now for some food. Take a seat at the table or the food will get cold! Dad announces. For a moment, I almost forgot that he was there with us.

We all walk towards the dinner table, which is behind my favourite purple sofa. Jamie pulls out a chair for me and then he takes a seat in front of me. Dad sits at the head of the table, like always.

I don’t pay too much attention to the food on the plates – and that is a little unusual for me. I’m so impatient to hear Dad’s announcement that I have a knot in my stomach. I wonder if Jamie will like having a woman as a manager. Maybe he will be alright with it: he has never given me the impression of being one of those men who would feel threatened by a female boss. It’s going to be fun and I’m definitely going to enjoy seeing him at work every day. One of the things that I like about Morgan & Hall is the fact that it produces pastry and sweet goods, which I’m a huge fan of. I mean, there are also many negative aspects of course. Being on the administrative side means that I will have to deal with numbers and calculations on a daily basis and my university course has taught me how tedious this type of work can be. I can only imagine how bored I will get. But this is not anyone’s business, it’s Dad’s baby. I would do anything for Morgan & Hall. I’m prepared to set aside my passion for books and my dream to work for one of those publishers where celebrity writers are invited to give talks. I made this decision a while ago now.

Dreams are for kids – adults have to be responsible, zealous and hard working. I’ve definitely worked hard during the last five years, now it’s time to show that I can also be responsible and zealous. I’m ready for it!

Dad clinks his champagne glass with his fork and wakes me from my day-dreaming.

May I have your attention, guys. He sounds extremely serious as he speaks. Here we go: this is the moment. I’m so ready, I’ll be the best woman manager in the whole world. I have a stupid smile on my face while I wait for Dad to begin.

I’m happy to have you both here today at my table, Ashley and Jamie. He looks at me first, then he turns towards Jamie. I wanted to take this opportunity to make an important announcement. As you both know, I have devoted all my time and energy to Morgan & Hall, especially after my best friend Milton passed away. I’m proud of my business and of all the people who work for it. However, I’m aware that I’m not going to be able to act as head of the business for much longer, and Elton, Lloyd and Carter agree with me on this point. It’s not going to be an immediate retirement for me – my company is my whole life. However, I have made the decision to nominate my successor, who will take the lead when I’m not able to work as efficiently any more. Here we go: I’m getting a little nervous now.

Our company has a long history and the road to success has seldom been straight and easy to walk. During the last few years, the company has implemented some incredible innovations due to the extremely skilled individuals who work for us. For this reason, I have decided to nominate Jamie as my formal successor. Dad turns towards the wrong side of the table and gives Jamie a huge, proud smile.

Wait a minute. There must be a mistake. This is a family business, I know this for sure. Jamie has nothing to do with us.

I’m overwhelmed with mixed emotions as I look at the other side of the table. For a moment, Jamie’s eyes are lit by the same wave of surprise that I must have in mine. He turns towards Dad, then he lowers his eyes and smiles with satisfaction. In a moment, everything becomes clear to me: Jamie’s gentlemanly manners, his kind words, his compliments. They were all very poor tricks to charm me and distract me from what he was planning.

Thank you, Nathan. Thank you and the committee for having entrusted me with such a great honour. I promise that I’ll do my best to make this company even greater. He locks his eyes onto Dad’s again.

I still can’t believe my own ears.

Great… I mutter while I’m still in shock. As soon as I speak, both Dad and Jamie turn towards me. Did they even forget that I was there for a moment?

You’re right, that’s kind of careless of me, Dad says. Then he looks at Jamie, who stands up and heads to Dad’s office. When he comes back, he’s holding a small box, which looks tiny in Jamie’s big hands. I’m sorry, Ashley. I almost forgot the most important thing tonight: congratulations on your degree! This is a present from me and Jamie, I hope you like it.

Jamie places the box in front of me and I don’t know whether I feel like laughing or crying. While I’m still unsure of my reaction, I put my hands on the box and decided to open it. I remain completely silent while I feel their eyes on me – they are full of expectation.

I look inside: there are a few sheets of paper and I pull each of them out carefully. One of them is an open flight ticket for a one week holiday anywhere of my choice. The second sheet contains a list of addresses, and all the other sheets are referenced descriptions of each of those addresses.

What is all this about? I lift my eyes in dismay.

We thought you would appreciate a holiday to celebrate your graduation, darling. Go anywhere you want, have fun for a whole week, take your time to relax and recharge. Dad ends his sentence with one of his dumbest smiles.

Those are addresses of the book shops I’ve been in touch with. I’ve spoken to the managers of each of them and they told me that they need somebody. When you’re back from your holiday, feel free to choose any of them and get in touch with the manager.

I’m speechless. I don’t know what hurts more: is it the fact that they dumped me like that after all my hard work, or the fact that they took advantage of my passion for books?

This is disgusting.

I spring up from my chair, my hands are shaking from anger. I grab the list of contacts and I tear up the sheet in front of their eyes. Dad didn’t expect this? Too bad. If I were him, I would be grateful that I limited myself to destroying a list of contacts instead of some of his expensive souvenirs. Sure, his friends from the book shops would be happy to hire the daughter he didn’t want in his own company. Luckily, I didn’t lose control of the situation completely: this apartment is also mine and I care too much about it to destroy things out of sheer anger. It’s obvious, though, that I’m not going to live here in the foreseeable future. I don’t think I could tolerate the meetings between Dad and Jamie, which I’m sure will be quite frequent. I could end up committing some serious crime.

The two Nobel Prize winners for deceit stare at me, surprised and speechless, as I pull out the open flight ticket and put it in my pocket. Spending money seems to be the only way Dad knows to show his affection, but I may as well take advantage of it. I grab my coat and dash out of the apartment without turning round. I’m finally out of this den of traitors.

1

Three years later

The day has finally come: we’re going to open the damn will. I hate all the bureaucracy behind it. I was hoping to get back to my routine in my lovely home after the funeral, but the solicitor has reminded me that I won’t be able to take possession of anything at all until he has read my father’s will. I don’t like this solicitor, he speaks way too bluntly for my taste. I mean, technically, the apartment isn’t mine yet but the solicitor doesn’t really help to make the situation easier. I thought I would have been able to deal with the shock of the funeral more comfortably knowing that the apartment would soon be mine, but that wasn’t the case. Obviously, the solicitor didn’t kick me out of my home, but he remarked that the will may well say something other than what I expect it to. His bluntness has made me so nervous. On top of this, I have moved into Dad’s apartment all by myself and the whole thing has stressed me out immensely. They can’t take the apartment away from me now that I’m all moved in. It was silly of me to move out of my mother’s house so quickly. I have lived there for the last few years, but it’s never felt quite like being at home. I was so taken with the prospect of getting my life back, especially after the shock of Dad’s death, that I didn’t even think about the possibility that he may have left a will. Above all, I didn’t consider that they would block my debit card, which gives access to my only bank account. Okay, the bank account is in Dad’s name, but I’m still his only child, right? The fact that he let me use it without any restrictions, even after our argument, kind of meant that he wanted me to carry on living the same lifestyle, didn’t it?

I took a taxi to get to the solicitor, Orwell’s, office. I don’t care much about what the journey will cost, or even if it’s going to take half an hour to get there. It’s also pouring with rain. The meter clocks up quickly while the taxi is stuck in a traffic jam for more than fifteen minutes. Fuck everything! As soon as the will problem is resolved, I can finally enjoy my sweet home. That’s the only place where I really feel happy, and I know it will be the same, even after Dad’s death. I saw him sporadically after that night, but only on official occasions like birthdays or business related parties. These were all in public places, of course. I never even showed him where I lived, he would have probably criticised my mother’s house. I didn’t tell him anything about my job or my private life, even when he asked me directly at parties. Neither of us ever spoke of the company; after all, there was not much to say anyway. He never admitted that he was wrong while I’m still convinced of the contrary.

We never spoke of Jamie. He tried calling me a few times during the first few months after the argument, then he slowly gave up. I decided to break off any relationship with him. It was a question of pride for me, and after all, pride is one of the few things that Dad has passed on to me. Each to their own.

The only thing I really need now is to go back home. I have to overcome the bureaucracy and return there. I hope that I will be able to remember only beautiful things about the time spent with Dad, like the times when I used to call him from his office because dinner was ready and found him asleep with his head on the desk. I used to find his dedication to work really funny, especially when he was tired and tried anyway. I look forward to filling my mind with these memories when I think of him. I want to cast away the one negative memory that has obsessed me over the last few years.

I love my home and it’s been excruciating to be away from it for so many years. My home smells clean, it’s beautiful and large. It’s full of shelves with hundreds of my favourite books, not to mention a beautiful view across the city. I have my own hanging garden at home – Robert, my personal gardener, helps me to take care of the Canadian grass twice a week. I’ve missed Robert. I’ve also missed Dad’s office, the only place in the house where you can still smell his cigars and where it’s difficult to find your way through the many dusty bits and pieces that fill the room. I miss things that I would never have thought I would miss. I miss the life that I used to lead when I lived there, all the memories that live in that place, and how lovely it felt to watch a TV series with Dad on a Sunday. He didn’t really enjoy watching them, but he did it anyway so as to be able to spend some time with me. I wish that could happen again.

I glance at the taxi driver, he glances back at me through the rear view mirror. I’m aware that I look impatient but he has no idea just how much I’m longing to get my old life back.

Everything okay? I ask.

Yeah, it’s just a traffic jam. I’m afraid it’s going to take about half an hour with these queues.

That’s okay, as long as we get there.

I take my phone out of my handbag and call the solicitor. I want to tell him about the delay. The phone rings twice, then a woman answers.

Orwell solicitors, how can I help?

Erm, hi, this is Ashley Morgan. I’m supposed to meet Mr Orwell in about fifteen minutes, but I’m going to be late, I’m afraid. Could you let him know please? I’m really sorry about this, I’m stuck in traffic.

Yes, that’s no problem, I’ll let the solicitor know. the secretary says.

I’m more frustrated than I sound on the phone but I don’t want to make everyone’s life more difficult. I’ll have to be patient – I’ll be there soon, we’ll get everything sorted and I’ll finally go home.

As predicted, the taxi stops outside the solicitor’s office about half an hour later. I pay him pretty much all the money that I have in my purse and I rush to the entrance to shelter from the pouring rain. I pull off my red raincoat and I endeavour to walk quickly along the corridor towards the lift, although the wellies don’t help with this. Once in the lift, I press the button for the top floor decisively and wait until it gets there. I contemplate the beauty of this lift: the bright, white light that illuminates the whole space, the mirrors on the sides and the polished, amber coloured wood. The doors open to let me into a huge hall with a large glass and iron desk in the middle. There is a woman behind the desk, she must be in her forties, her brown hair is tied in a bun. Her red lipstick highlights the beauty of her fleshy lips, her ivory-coloured glasses frame suits her face nicely.

I’m Ashley Morgan, sorry I’m late.

Good morning, Miss Morgan, and welcome. Mr Orwell is waiting for you in his office. Come with me. The secretary stands up and waves her hand, indicating that I should follow her. Every detail of this building looks extremely expensive, even the paintings on the wall look original. We walk past a dozen doors on each side, they are all closed and tagged with the names of those who, presumably, work for the company. We finally stop by a larger door, the secretary knocks lightly.

Yes? The solicitor answers.

The secretary opens the door. Miss Morgan is here. She invites me to enter the office.