“Ex-fiancé, but yes. I mean, he’s wealthy in his own right, but he knew of my wealth and knew my inheritance was in a trust. We’d been dating over a year before I told him about the marriage condition though.”

“And just how soon after you told him that, were you engaged?”

I shook my head, tried to remember, but couldn’t. “I don’t know. It was several months later, though. At least six, I think. It wasn’t like he proposed the next day or anything.”

Until Lincoln went on a rage these last couple of weeks, I wouldn’t have considered our engagement had anything to do with my trust anyway. Now?

I didn’t want to think about it.

“Okay. I have a call in to Mr. Hayes, who has yet to return my call, which I understand you’ve had the same issues with. I’ll try again this afternoon, and if I can’t get through to him, might just have to head there and wait for him.”

The balls on this woman was encouraging. Unlike me, who might wait weeks for Hayes to return to the office after his vacation, Megan was clearly not that patient.

Thank goodness she’d spoken to John.

“Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

“Like I said, it’s us who owes you the apology. Hopefully, I can get back to you by the end of the week with better news and a resolution. You’ll be hearing from me soon. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No. Not at this time. Just thank you.”

“Take care. We’ll speak soon.”

She hung up without a goodbye, and I imagined Megan, probably jet-black hair, pulled back abrasively into a tight knot. She probably wore black suits that were molded to a lean, fit frame, and her take-no-shit attitude most likely permeated from her pores. Most likely, she was on her next phone call, and I couldn’t help but smile.

She’d help get everything figured out. I knew it.

Which meant getting access to my trust would be sooner rather than later.

“That’s great news,” Kane said and twisted spaghetti noodles around his fork. “I hope it works out this time. This Megan…?”

He looked up from his plate of food for confirmation he had the name right.

“Megan Barton.”

“Yeah, she sounds like a real ball-buster.” He winked and went back to eating. “In a good way.”

“I know what you meant.” I slid my plate of food to the side and took a sip of water.

After I’d gotten off the phone with Megan earlier, I’d reached for the wine, then realized how much I’d been drinking ever since I showed up in Vegas. When I took out Kane’s recycling earlier, the whole thing sounded like one glass bottle hitting another and shattering.

Time for me to slow down and put a pause on my wino-ism for a day or two at least.

I drank my water while Kane ate his dinner. Simple spaghetti from a jar, but that didn’t seem to be stopping him from piling a helping as large as his plate on to it. I was glad I’d used two pounds of beef. And bonus—I didn’t burn the meat or the sauce, and the noodles weren’t stuck together. Lucky me.