“I would never ask that of you,” Ajax said, his voice hard.
Her father turned and walked out of the room, and Leah fought the urge to follow him. To try to reason with him. It would be easier than dealing with Ajax. But her father wouldn’t bend on this. He had given his word, and in Joseph Holt’s world, one where men had honor, one where men didn’t stoop so low as to use a woman as part of a business firefight, your word was all that was needed.
But that wasn’t the real world. She knew it. Ajax knew it.
Ajax pushed his hand through his hair and looked out the window again. “The question is, what is to be done? There is an agreement, drawn up and ready to sign. There is a wedding planned. There are a thousand guests coming in only three hours. The media will be there. This has been hailed as the wedding of the century. So the question is—” he turned to face Leah “—what is to be done?” His control was fraying slightly, an edge to his voice that Leah wasn’t accustomed to.
She looked at his face, at the hard lines around his mouth. At the worry in his eyes. Ajax Kouros, worried. And the answer hit her. So clear, so simple. This was how things worked in business, and what they were dealing with was a business-related problem. A contract that needed signing.
Or to be specific, two contracts that needed signing.
“What was the extent of your deal? What did the contract say?”
“Ownership of Holt was to pass to me upon signing the wedding agreement, contingent on the fact that the marriage last for five years. Otherwise, ownership returns to your father.”
“And the names on the document?”
“No names. Interchangeable. That’s the issue.”
“Five-year minimum?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll do it,” Leah said.
The words hung in the room, too loud in the emptiness.
For one fleeting moment she felt exposed. Awkward. No. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She was stronger than that. She’d learned. Never expose yourself. Never let them see you cry.
“You will do what?” Ajax asked, dark eyes now trained on her.
“I...” Insecurity rose up and grabbed her by the throat, choking her. Past Leah, the Leah who had idolized Ajax. The girl who had made a fool of herself chasing after his attention, his affection. The idiotic teenager who had nearly declared herself just before he’d declared his love for Rachel.
It’s for Leah’s Lollies. It has nothing to do with those feelings. It’s for Holt.
She wasn’t a slave to those old feelings anymore. Sure, she’d dreamed of Ajax when she was a girl, but then, like everyone else, he’d chosen Rachel. And she’d learned never to expose herself like that again. Had learned how to cover up pain under a layer of armor. Because the alternative was to show it to the world, and damn your pride.
Well, she was quite fond of her pride.
“I’ll marry you. And then the guests and the companies, yours, mine and Holt, and all of that will be fine. And no matter what, no matter if Rachel marries Christofides next month or...tomorrow, it won’t be him that gets his hands on Holt. It will be okay. All of it.”
He laughed, humorless, dark. “It will all be fine, will it? Perfection. Just a slight hiccup.”
“I’m well aware this is more than a hiccup. But it’s better than nothing, right?”
Ajax was not an expressive man. He’d been good to her sister, but not overly affectionate. She’d wondered more than once exactly what sort of relationship they had. If it was more convenience than passion. But just then, she had to acknowledge that Ajax looked very much like a man who’d lost the love of his life.
Ajax put his fingers through his hair again, the look in his eyes so different to what she was used to. Lost. It reminded her of a younger version of him. Of the boy he’d been before coming to the Holt Estate. A boy she’d never known.
She still remembered the moment she’d met him, when they’d come to the estate for the summer. It was like the world had fallen away. Like she’d fallen away.
She’d been so young, but there had been something about him that had pulled her to him. He’d, in an instant, been so many things to her. And he’d listened. He’d made her feel important. Special. And she’d clung to him, followed him around like a lost puppy. Obvious. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl with embarrassment.
He looked at her, that lost look in his eyes fading as suddenly as it had appeared. Now his gaze was unreadable, unexpressive. Like he was looking over a new yacht, or sports car. Well, no, not even that. He got a bit more passionate over sports cars. And dark chocolate. That was one thing they had in common. Or at least something they’d had in common.