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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.
If he let it happen. If he didn’t accept Leah’s offer.
It was a bad day for his pride. That he needed help saving a deal he’d spent years working toward because his bride had decided to skip the wedding, burned. She’d left him to be with someone else. His biggest business rival.
This wedding, their union, made it feel like pieces were finally fitting together. Like the pieces of his life had united into one smooth picture, the end of the plan in sight.
Everything he wanted. Everything he’d worked for, in his grasp at last. His reward for rigid control, for never deviating from the path since he’d first put his foot down on it.
But Rachel hadn’t seen things that way. Obviously.
He supposed, if he thought about it, it made sense. Rachel was passionate. About life, about everything. But she’d never been passionate with him. And she’d never been bothered by his reserve with her. He’d imagined she was responding to the way he was naturally. Now he wondered.
Still, pride wouldn’t see his plans come to fruition. They wouldn’t bring Rachel back, either. Refusing Leah was of no benefit to him. It simply wasn’t logical.
However, he had a hard time thinking of her as a wife. As the sort of woman he would share his life with, take to events, take to bed.
Leah was not the woman he’d imagined himself with. Not ever.
“Well, come on, Ajax, don’t keep a girl waiting like this,” she said, a small smile curving up the edge of her lips. As though she were unruffled. As though all of this was just an interesting diversion. He wondered when she’d become so calculating. When she’d traded in that sweetness for the hard, cutting edge of a businesswoman.
“I accept.” There was no logical reason not to. And above anything else, he was a man of logic. Emotion could never be allowed to rule. “I will make a call and have the seamstress come and fit Rachel’s dress to you.”
Leah’s cheeks turned pink, although her expression remained stone cold. “Could you cut a foot off the hem and add the fabric around the middle?”
She was exaggerating and yet, she had a point. Rachel was long and angular, while the top of Leah’s head came just below his shoulder. It could not be ignored; she was certainly a larger size than her sister. Though she wasn’t proportioned unattractively. Round in the appropriate places. He’d just never given it much thought.
“What size, then? I will order you a new one.”
“I’ll make a call,” she said, her cheeks still pink. “It will have to be off-the-rack, of course. We only have two hours, but it’s doable. All things considered, the fit of my dress will be the least scandalous thing about this wedding.”
“You are still a Holt heiress,” he said.
“Yes, we’re practically interchangeable. Except, clearly, for the dress size.”
“That is not what I meant. You are not interchangeable.” He gritted his teeth. “You are not Rachel.” Rachel, who, in his mind, was the embodiment of his perfect life. He’d imagined that when he reached this day, when he reached her, standing at the head of the aisle, his struggle, his fight to stay on the path, to stay in control, would be over. That he would finally have reached a destination instead of walking endlessly.
He’d never touched her, not beyond a casual kiss, but things between them had been understood, for the past six years. They hadn’t spent all of their time together, hadn’t acted as a couple. Rachel hadn’t wanted to feel tied down. She’d wanted to live her life. But he’d been confident that in the end she would come back to him.
He had been wrong. And he hated being wrong.
“I’m sorry about that. Not that I’m not her, but that she left. I am.”
“Of course you are. Now you’re stuck with me.”
She looked up at him, whiskey-colored eyes glittering. He didn’t know why she looked like she was about to cry. Because of the situation? Though she had been part of creating it, it wasn’t like he had asked for her to stand in. Or because of his comments? Either way, he didn’t like it.
Joseph Holt had become a mentor to him when he’d been a teenager, and his family had, in many ways, become his family. He would never do anything to hurt the Holt family. Ever.
“It is not too late to back out, Leah. I will not hold you to a rash statement made in the heat of an emotional moment.”
“It is all very emotional.”
“I meant for you.”
She blinked. “For you, as well. Do you feel nothing?”
“I feel—of course I do. But I do not make decisions based on emotion, which is why I’m prepared to marry you instead of Rachel. It’s logical.” It kept his plan going until he could shift things. Until he could get everything re-sorted in his mind. Planning kept him on point, in control, and control was everything.
He knew what happened when control was lost. Knew what happened when a man lived for feeling.
“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.”
CHAPTER TWO
LEAH’S HANDS SHOOK as she picked up the bouquet, the one that was meant to have been her sister’s. Thank God she never could have in a million years worn her sister’s dress or shoes.
And this was the first time ever she’d been glad she couldn’t have. She didn’t want her sister’s flowers, groom, dress and shoes.
As it was, the dress and shoes were Leah’s. The flowers and groom...they weren’t.
Her stomach cramped painfully and she looked in the mirror. Her eyes looked overly large for her face, and as frightened as she felt. She didn’t have her mask up. Because she was very suddenly confronted with the reality of what she was doing.
On paper, in the moment, it had been very black-and-white. Alexios couldn’t be allowed to succeed in gaining access to Holt. If he was using Rachel, it couldn’t be a reward.
But here, standing in a wedding dress? It was feeling more real. More insane.
She reached down and took a tissue off the vanity and pressed her lips to it, leaving a crimson stain behind. She stared at it for a moment. Would her lips leave red marks on Ajax’s?
And it hit her with the force of a wrecking ball. She was going to kiss him. Today. She sank down onto the chair that was positioned in front of the mirror. She was actually marrying him. A legal marriage.
Worse, and more worrisome, since it was in her immediate future, she was about to expose herself to the press, and their ridicule, again. Her least favorite thing ever.
This wedding was huge. A major event. Rachel was so popular, a style icon for the masses and a favorite on the cover of magazines worldwide. And Ajax...he exuded dark sex appeal and mystery, plus there was the whole billionaire thing. That made this wedding, their wedding, a very big deal.
And she just didn’t match up to the fanfare.
She stood up and tried not to topple over as she looked in the mirror. She put her hands over her breasts, barely contained by the bodice of the strapless gown. Not her first choice, but it had been an emergency, and that meant she’d had to take the smaller size, and she’d had to take the one that showed a bit too much of her curves. Which were abundant. And she wasn’t big on putting them on display.
So, yay, of course now she’d be doing it in front of an audience of a thousand. Plus photographers. As a replacement bride for the lovely Rachel, who the media showed such favor. Who men, all through their lives, had shown such favor.
It reminded her of the time she’d gone to an event in a dress Rachel had worn earlier in the year. So there Leah was, having the sort of fashion misstep sixteen-year-olds often did, but in front of the world. Her less-svelte figure was too much on display thanks to the dress being too small, and the color washed her out. It had been put in a fashion magazine under a Who Wore it Better? heading. And Leah had been savaged in both the article and online.
Borrowing clothes from her sister’s closet was a lot more fraught for her than it was for other teenagers.
She remembered so clearly sitting down and crying in her father’s office when she’d seen it, and Ajax coming in. He’d been visiting, taking time out from his own corporate empire that was making a serious statement in the business landscape. But he’d always made time for them. He’d always felt like a part of the Holt family.
“I’m so humiliated, Ajax!” she’d wailed. “How will I ever live this down?”
Ajax had looked at her, dark eyes impassive. “If you don’t want to be compared to your sister, stop putting yourself in the position. You’re different. You will never be her, so stop trying.” He’d knelt in front of her then. “And you must never let them see you cry. Never give them anything they can use against you. An unbreakable target is not a satisfying one.”
He was right, then and now. She wasn’t Rachel. Not even close. And so she’d made an effort to look as different as possible from her sister. And she’d never let them see her cry.
Leah had become the snarky one, the one with the acerbic wit, the businesswoman who didn’t care what the press said and didn’t waste time trying to court them.
She’d become her own person. Her own very guarded person.
Unless she was with Ajax. With him, she’d felt free to show herself. She’d poured her heart out to him. Hours spent tailing him at the estate replaced with spending time in his office after school.
And she’d left him treats. Ajax wasn’t demonstrative, but she always saw the candy wrappers in the trash bin the next morning. And it always earned her a smile. A small one, but from Ajax, it had been gold.
And with those small smiles a girlish crush had turned into love. She’d been so close to telling him, too. One night when there were few people left in the Holt building and they’d been alone in his office. But she’d lost her nerve.
And by the end of the week, he’d announced that he intended to marry Rachel.
Never let them see you cry.
His words had played over and over in her mind that day, as her dreams, her fantasies, had been crushed like a rose in an iron fist. She hadn’t gone to his office after that. She hadn’t left any candy on his desk again.
She hadn’t shown a crack in her facade since.
But no matter how she played it, she still didn’t like what the press wrote about her, and she knew this would be no exception.
Round-ish Candy Tycoon to Wed Man Way Out of Her League in Desperate Last-Minute Substitution at Wedding!
There was a headline she could live without.
But it was likely unavoidable. All right, it wouldn’t say round-ish, but still. There would be an implication. Especially since she owned candy stores. They loved that about her. That she’d grown up to sell candy. It made for such delightful headlines, filled with the suggestion that she overindulged in her own product.
And she would be standing there, next to Ajax, who was physical perfection. She was sure she would look like a little marshmallow in comparison. A little marshmallow with cleavage.
“Leah.” Her father walked into the room, and Leah whirled around toward the sound of his voice. He looked as shell-shocked as she felt. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Leah nodded slowly. “Yes.”
She felt dizzy, light-headed.
You know what this is. You signed the agreement. There will be an end date on this marriage. He’ll probably never even touch you.
But fantasy and reality were having a head-on collision and it was hard to remember how she was supposed to feel. Who she was supposed to be. It was hard to keep her mask in place while the world shook beneath her feet.
“I want to do this,” she said, her voice hushed.
The expression on her father’s face changed, as if he was seeing deep inside her. “I see.” He extended his arm. “Then let’s go. I confess, I was not ready for you to be married yet.”
She wanted to shout that he didn’t see. Because there was nothing to see. Instead, she cleared her throat. “I’m twenty-three.”
“But still. With Rachel I knew it was coming. I was much more ready for her to marry. And I knew...I knew Ajax’s intentions for a long time. The moment his feelings toward Rachel changed, he told me.”
“Six years,” Leah said, knowing the exact moment, the exact hour. Because the memory was still so raw, no matter that it shouldn’t be.
“She wanted to live more first. She was only twenty-two when he fell in love with her. And you don’t want to live?”
“I can still live with a husband,” she said. “I’ll be married, not dead.” And probably not married for that long. Or in truth.
“That’s true. But you are still my baby.”
She breathed in deep, fighting against the tight ache in her throat. “Dad, I haven’t lived at home in years.”
“I know.”
“And Ajax is like a son to you.”
Her father stopped walking and looked at her. “And if he hurts you, I will personally see him undone.”
She blinked. “He won’t.” She would make sure he wouldn’t. Her armor was solid; it wouldn’t break now. In spite of her moment of flailing insecurity back in the dressing room, she would make sure her armor held.
Anyway, Ajax didn’t have a foothold in her life anymore. Not in her emotions at least. She might still find him physically attractive, but she wasn’t hopeless over him anymore.
They stopped talking then, because they were in the foyer, and just beyond that was the courtyard, where everything had been prepared for the wedding. Rachel’s wedding. None of it was to her taste. Leah was more whimsical, her sister a sophisticate. Everything was white at Rachel’s wedding.
Too damn bad she hadn’t shown up.
Leah swallowed hard as the doors opened and the sunlight poured in, painting her in white, too. The only color was the sea beyond the stone-covered courtyard, a blue jewel against the sun-washed sky.
She started descending the steps, and the guests stood, a gasp and ripple of whispers rustling through the crowd, audible even over the string quartet that was playing. She knew what they were saying. They were wondering why. Why her?
Why not the beautiful sister? Surely, everyone would know Rachel had left. Because there was no way Ajax would have preferred her. And everyone would know that.
She’d always imagined she would marry here. In Rhodes. But it hadn’t looked like this in her mind.
She raised her eyes and saw Ajax, standing at the head of the aisle, and her heart just about burst through her chest, nerves, remnants of old dreams converging on her, making it hard to breathe. Ajax had always been in her fantasies. Always. Of course, in her fantasies of old as she drew nearer to him on her trip down the aisle, he had smiled. He hadn’t looked at her like she was judge, jury and executioner come to hand him a terrible sentence.
But that’s how he looked now. Grim. Like a man at the gallows, not the altar.
She tightened her hold on her father’s arm and continued down the aisle, looking anywhere but at Ajax. What was she doing? She couldn’t back out. She was halfway down the aisle, the man had already been jilted once today. And as they drew closer, the ache in her heart intensified, a swollen mass of emotion growing in her, choking her.
And logic couldn’t talk her out of it. Her mind telling her that she shouldn’t feel anything for him, did nothing to stop it.
Where was her armor? How had this sneaked beneath it?
They stopped at the head of the aisle, and Leah just about stopped breathing.
“Who gives this woman to this man?” The pastor’s voice was thin, distant. Like he was underwater.
“I do.”
Her father sounded the same way, so maybe it was just her.
And then he kissed her cheek and she was moving toward Ajax. He extended his hand, and she took it. He had never held her hand before. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t think he’d ever touched her skin.
Heat assaulted her, starting at her cheeks, spreading to her ears. Oh, good. Now she was blushing. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get a grip?
Why did this feel so real?
It’s not real. It’s just business. It’s for Leah’s Lollies. It’s for Holt. It’s not for you.
He took her other hand, too, turned her to face him. Terror streaked through her, and on its heels, an emotion so big, so real, she couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t push it down. It grew, it bloomed in her, alive, strong.
In that moment, reality melted away, and fantasy won out.
Surely this was only a fantasy. With her in a wedding gown and Ajax, looking like perfection in a tux, how could it be anything else? It couldn’t be real. This was a dream, the dream she used to have when she was a teenager. It wasn’t real.
He said his vows, his voice steady. Strong, without emotion, but then, that was how he was. She spoke hers without stumbling, and there was this strange, underlying conviction that each word was the truth. That there would be no one but him, forever.
There never had been, not for her. It was Ajax. Always.
She could feel the walls inside of her start to quake. Start to crumble. All of that supposed hard edge she’d cultivated. All of her defense.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Leah’s heart stopped, and for a moment, so did the world. Her focus dropped to Ajax’s lips. How many times had she thought about kissing those lips?
It was her last thought before he wrapped his arm around her waist and dipped his head, his mouth covering hers.
She hadn’t been prepared. Not for the heat, the flash of pure fire that raced along her veins. She found herself lifting her arms, curling her fingers around the lapels of his suit jacket.
She’d expected something chaste, something appropriate for a thousand pairs of eyes, for two people who had barely ever touched, but that wasn’t what she got. What she got was a real, full-on kiss.
He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opened eagerly, tasting him as he tasted her. She felt as if she was falling, but Ajax was there to hold her up, his arm a strong band around her waist, her fingers curled into his jacket like claws.
She’d never been kissed like this. Not ever. And she’d never felt like this, either. Like she would die if he stopped touching her, like her skin was on fire. Her breasts ached, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. And the ache, low and strong between her thighs. An ache she knew only he could satisfy.
And all of her expectations about the marriage were blown apart. And all she had were questions. Well, questions, a thundering heartbeat and the feeling of being horribly, hideously exposed.
And then, suddenly, he pulled away and she nearly lost her balance. The guests were clapping, and the pastor was making his pronouncement, but she couldn’t pay attention. Her head was swimming, her legs shaking.
“Smile,” Ajax whispered in her ear, and it kick-started her brain again.
Never let them see you cry.
So she did smile, a bright, false smile she didn’t feel, and he led her down the aisle as the band played.
They went back up the stairs. Into the house.
The doors closed behind them, and Ajax started loosening his tie.
“Don’t we need... Should we... The photographer.”