“Yes. Well, while the situation overall might be emotional, I didn’t offer out of a sense of emotion.”
“Holt is mine. By right. By promise. I’m not family by blood, but your father trained me for this.”
“I know. And I’ve worked too hard to elevate Leah’s Lollies to this position to see it mowed down in a firefight.”
He looked at Leah and wondered if he’d underestimated her. He knew she had a business mind, whereas Rachel most certainly put the social in socialite and had used the money her father had given her to become a silent partner in a few ventures that helped expand her web of personal connections.
It was one of the reasons Rachel had been such a valuable prospect for a wife. She did what he did not. She connected with people, made friends easily, and used charisma to make happen what she wanted to see done.
She was, in essence, the perfect accessory to his life. Leah on the other hand, was more focused on the business end. She would possibly want a hand in the decision making at Holt, which would be her right, since ownership was to be shared between him and his wife.
But then, he would get a stake in Leah’s Lollies, which, in spite of his line of questioning, he knew was quite successful. And with his assets? Mass production of her products was entirely possible.
In terms of how he would benefit, there was the chance it could be very profitable for him. As for Leah...it could be extremely profitable for her.
“What else do you know, Leah?” he asked.
“A lot. I see things. I know how much this means to you. I know you didn’t spend years working under my father to not end up as head of Holt.”
It was true. Joseph Holt had become his mentor when he’d been a sixteen-year-old boy with little schooling and no money, working on the grounds of the opulent Holt Estate in Rhodes. He’d only just left his father’s mansion, fled the island he’d grown up on, which was filled with so much corruption not even the police could help him. He’d been rooming with other teenagers who’d been disowned by their families, for varying reasons. Working. Paying rent. And he’d protected them all, because he’d known about the evil that was out there waiting.
They’d lived and worked like that until better jobs had taken them better places.
For Ajax, that better place had been provided by Joseph Holt. Every summer and winter, the Holts came and stayed on the estate. Unlike other wealthy families he’d worked for, they’d been kind, friendly with their staff. Especially Joseph Holt, who had taken the time to speak with everyone, get to know everyone.
And he’d taken a special interest in Ajax. Had, in many ways, become the father he’d never had. But more than that, he’d taught him an interest in business. Had sent him to college. Had, like he’d done for his daughters, given him money as venture capital. Ajax had spent three years working at Holt in the United States, and after that, he’d gone on to get his own business off the ground, dealing in retail stores, rather than manufacturing.
Ajax had made his success thanks to Joseph, knowing all the while that in the end, Holt would be a part of his stable of assets. As would Rachel.
He had lost one of those things today; he would not lose the other.
“You do see a lot, Leah. And I think you have inherited your father’s ability to spot a good business deal. And his inability to pass it up.”
She lifted her chin, dark hair shimmering in the light, the glossy curls sliding from her shoulders to tumble down her back. “I am a Holt, Ajax.”
“As is Rachel.”
“I am not my sister. Not even close. That you will have to remember.”
He looked her over. Still, he couldn’t help but see that image of a young teenager, sitting in her father’s office with a book on her lap, her hair, not glossy or gently curled, but frizzy and barely contained by a rubber band. Or her following him around the estate, chatting his ear off about a new idea she had for a business, asking him if he thought it might work.
If you put your mind to it, Leah, it will work.
That was what he’d always told her. He hadn’t realized how true it was. Just how dangerous she could be when she set her mind on something.
“I am in no danger of forgetting.”
“I’ll need...” She cleared her throat. “Well, that is, I have to get ready now.”