‘It’s too much.’
Ben frowned. ‘It’s a fair fee.’
For a second she hovered on the brink of confession, and then she pressed her lips together. It was too risky. If she told him, he might pull the job interview. All she could do now was give the job her all—do it to the best of her ability and more.
‘Thank you. I will do my best.’
For a moment his frown deepened, as if he were still trying to read her very soul, but this time she held his gaze.
It was a relief when the car stopped and she realised they were at the warehouse. And an even bigger relief when they walked in and she could immerse herself in a sensory experience that had nothing to do with Ben Gardiner and everything to do with the incredible display of fashion and its components.
The building was filled with the hustle and bustle of operatives picking out and sorting orders, while the very air seemed clothed in fabrics, textures, materials and designs.
‘This is incredible. I can practically taste the fabrics. This is a shopper’s paradise.’
‘It’s also hopefully a well-oiled machine. Our stock processes have to work efficiently or the whole system would collapse.’ He gestured across the floor. ‘The new range is securely locked away in a different part of the warehouse.’
They walked up to the next level, down a corridor, and he stopped outside a door, tapped in a passcode and they entered.
‘Wow, wow and wow,’ Sarah said.
She turned to him and saw no mirror of her own feelings. His stance reflected an attitude approaching indifference.
‘It really doesn’t do it for you, does it? The place could be full of toilet rolls. I still don’t get it.’
Ben looked round. ‘I am proud of this—I’m proud of what I’ve built up, proud of the company’s success. But my buzz comes from making Sahara even more successful, generating growth and new lines, expanding into new countries. Taking the Sahara brand global. At the end of the day, whether it’s detergent or fashion, it’s money that talks the sweetest talk. It’s the profit that matters.’
‘That’s a bit cynical.’
‘That’s life.’ His tone was absolute. ‘Money makes the world go round. I don’t have a problem with that. At all. It makes everything simple. You give, you take, you deal. Life as a market stall.’
‘Emotions don’t work like that.’ This she knew. No amount of money could have compensated for Imogen’s death. No amount of money could have defined her joy at Jodie’s birth. ‘There are some things that transcend money. Life, death, happiness, grief.’
Ben shook his head. ‘Money still helps. It can pay for private treatments, assuage grief by providing counselling. It can allow you to take time off from work. If your grief is connected to a relationship breakdown it can definitely ease the path of moving forward. As for happiness—my money has purchased plenty.’
Yet his cobalt eyes were shadowed, and she felt a mad urge to step forward and put her arms around him. But that way lay madness indeed.
‘You mean your lifestyle? The accessories, the fast cars, a driver, parties on yachts?’
‘Yes.’
He met her gaze coolly, and yet somehow she didn’t fully believe him, sensed there was more to it than that.
‘My money allows me a lifestyle that brings me happiness. Isn’t that what everyone wants?’
‘
Sure, but I just want...enough. I want enough to give Jodie a good start in life, enough to pay for ballet lessons, enough to keep her healthy and happy.’
‘But why stop at “enough”?’
It was a good question, and it jolted her even as she considered the answer. ‘Because you don’t need to have the most expensive toys or designer shoes to be happy.’
‘You don’t need them, but sometimes it’s nice to have them. So why not go for it?’
‘Because then it becomes meaningless. Surely limitless wealth gets boring?’
‘Not so I’ve noticed. Because there’s always something more to aspire to.’