“She doesn’t. It doesn’t mean to her what it means to you and me—you know that. She was going to be your right hand socially, but I doubt she ever spent a day in those offices of her own free will.”
“True enough. But I didn’t require that of her. A hostess, someone to give me a softer face—that I needed.”
She looked at the granite lines etched by his mouth, his eyes. Yes, he most certainly did need a hostess.
She took a breath, putting her hard, practiced expression in place. “Well, that’s not happening now. And do you want some other man to have your wife and your business?”
Ajax took a step toward her, dark eyes trained on hers, and she felt something inside her melt.
“Other than Holt, Leah, what do you want?”
“To preserve Leah’s Lollies. Holt owns a quarter of my stock. And in addition to my candy stores being linked to Holt, I am a Holt. It’s my legacy. It’s ours, not just yours.”
“It was meant to be mine and Rachel’s.”
“I know.”
“And you trust me with your stocks, do you? Alexios is quite the financial genius—perhaps he would serve you better than I would. Rachel seems to think so.”
; “You’ll do right by me and my shops, Ajax. I have no doubt.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll sell my stocks off. You think they’ll be profitable enough for me?”
“Of course I do. I sell things that are expensive and bad for you. I think I’ll be in business forever.”
He arched a dark brow, something in his expression changing. “A sure success, then. There is very little some people love more than indulging a vice.”
“Yes. Well, and if I may, allow me to continue my argument for marriage.”
“Please,” he said, no emotions on display.
“You’re right. Everything is in place. Everything. You taking the reins at Holt. The guests. The minister. The cake. There’s... I donated a lot of candy. A gift.”
“Nice of you.”
“Well, now I’m donating a bride. Which might be a bit more than nice.”
“If I accept.”
“Oh.”
Ajax looked at Leah, the woman who, up until ten minutes ago, had been about to become his sister-in-law. Now she was talking about being his wife. Leah. He scarcely thought of her as a woman. In his mind, she was still a round sixteen-year-old girl with curly hair, braces and a sweet tooth.
He could remember, very clearly, having a piece of candy waiting for him with his gardening tools every day when he’d first started working at the Holt Estate. And what had started as a childish game had continued as a tradition. When he’d started interning at the corporate headquarters in New York there had been a piece of candy on his desk. And when he’d branched off on his own, an entire bouquet, and yes, it could only be described as a bouquet, of chocolate had been waiting in his office.
Yes, whenever one of her little gifts showed up, he pictured Leah, the girl. Sweet, uncomplicated Leah, who looked at him and saw someone worth smiling at. But that vision didn’t match the reality standing in front of him.
Now she was a woman, he supposed. She was twenty-three. Some of her roundness had melted away, but not all. Her hair was still a mass of dark curls, albeit sleeker than when she’d been a teenager. And there was a hardness to her that had never been there before.
Still, she was nothing like Rachel. Beautiful, willowy Rachel.
Rachel, the woman he’d set his sights on so many years ago. The woman he’d spent so many years planning to marry. She had been standing there, at the end of his path, his goal, for so long that having her removed left him feeling lost. Aimless.
She was the only woman he’d ever loved.
And she had left him. Along with her, she would take Holt, and every piece of the plan, of his life would be broken off in chunks and scattered around his feet.