the opposite. He had treated her as a friend and had not made her feel foolish at all. Unlike this hard-faced man, looking at her across the wide expanse of the desk with cold eyes and without a tender bone in his body, she was sure.
‘You are nothing like him. You look nothing like him.’
Lorenzo was surprised. Lucy Steadman had spirit. Her face had flushed with colour, highlighting the delicate bone structure. She wasn’t plain as he had thought, but she was angry. His mouth tightened. He did not want to fight with her, he simply wanted her out of his sight as quickly as possible—before his anger got the better of him and he told her in return exactly what he thought of her brother …
‘You are right. My younger brother was the beautiful one, both inside and out, whereas I—so Antonio used to tell me—am a serious, hard-headed banker with ice in his veins who should lighten up and enjoy life. Not that it did Antonio much good,’ he said starkly.
For a moment Lucy thought she saw pain shadow his eyes as he spoke. She had been tactless, letting her dislike of the man show, and politely offered her sympathy. ‘I am sorry … so sorry,’ she murmured, as the memory of the tragic accident that had killed his brother and which she felt had been instrumental in the death of hers filled her mind. ‘I understand how you feel,’ she said, and began telling him about her brother.
‘Damien never really got over losing his best friend.’ She did not add thanks in part to you, but she thought it. ‘He was never well afterwards. I was finishing my second year at college and tried to help, but it was no good in the end,’ she admitted. ‘Though he did begin working with my father in the business his heart wasn’t in it. Then, when my father died the following year, it was another blow to him. With my father gone Damien could not manage everything, so he decided to hire a manager to oversee the running of the business and within a year everything seemed to be getting better. Then last year Damien went on holiday to Thailand and died there.’ He had recklessly stopped taking his medication, and it still hurt Lucy to think of him. ‘So I really do know how you feel.’
Lorenzo doubted that Lucy Steadman had an inkling of his real feelings, and he wasn’t about to tell her. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said coolly. ‘But now can we get down to business—the proposed sale of Steadman’s, I believe?’
Lucy had almost forgotten the reason she was there as images of the past and this man filled her mind. Suddenly it hit her that she had not made a very good start, and the speech she had prepared had gone clean out of her head.
‘Yes—no. Not a sale—I mean, let me explain … ‘
One devilish brow arched sardonically in her direction. ‘I will give you five minutes,’ he said, and looked pointedly at his wristwatch.
He had fine black hairs on his wrist, she noted, and shook her head. What was she thinking …? Concentrate, she told herself.
‘When my father died, in accordance with his will Damien inherited the family home in Dessington and seventy-five percent of the business. I had the other twenty-five and the holiday house in Cornwall. My father was not big on equality of the sexes.’
‘I don’t need your opinions—just facts.’ Though he knew most of them. The manager in charge of the bank’s small investments had kept him informed of any development at Steadman’s over the years, but common courtesy decreed he listen to her. But now he realised the reason for the woman’s unvarnished looks and clothes. Lorenzo was all for equality of the sexes, and made a point of employing and promoting intelligent women in his organisation, but he had no time for a latter-day women’s libber who thought the world owed her a living without her having the requisite skills to earn one, and his patience was fast running out.
Lucy took a deep breath. ‘After Damien died I inherited all that was left … Manufacturing plastics is not my thing, so I was quite happy to leave the running of the place to the manager while the lawyer dealt with probate. Unfortunately it was only when the lawyer finalised everything a couple of months ago, and called me in to explain my inheritance, that I discovered my father—with Damien’s agreement—had seven years earlier made Antonio a partner in the business by selling him forty percent of the firm. I was still at boarding school at the time, and knew nothing about it, but apparently it was agreed between them all that Damien and Antonio were going to be partners in the business and run it between them when my father retired. Unfortunately Antonio died, so it was never to be.’ She sighed, and then chewed nervously on her bottom lip. This was the hard part.
She raised a hand and counted off the fingers of the other hand to help her concentrate. ‘So, after my father died I did not actually inherit twenty-five percent of the business.’ She counted off a second finger. ‘It was twenty-five percent of what was only sixty percent.’ She counted a third finger. ‘So that was twenty … no, wait … fift—’
‘Basta! Enough.’
Lucy raised her head, her green eyes clashing with his ‘You’ve put me off now,’ she declared, waving her hands out wide.
‘I’m a banker—I can do the maths. A word of advice—never go into business.’ And she could have sworn she saw a hint of amusement in his dark eyes before the shutters came down and his hard, expressionless gaze fixed on her.
‘Your time has run out, so I will put you out of your misery. Your brother—who was obviously quite keen on partners,’ he said, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, ‘took on another partner eighteen months ago, selling fifteen percent of his share to Richard Johnson, who as it turns out is a property developer. Now your brother has died he wants to buy out the other two partners, demolish the factory and build a block of apartments on the land. You are six percent short of a majority on your own, and you want my bank, which now controls Antonio’s investment, to side with you to stop the development.’
In that moment Lorenzo, who had been ambivalent over what action to take—a rare occurrence for him—made up his mind. He had toyed with the idea of supporting Miss Steadman—the monetary aspect was next to nothing to the bank, and it also meant he could avoid discussing with his mother a subject that would reignite the pain of her losing Antonio.
He was intensely protective of his mother—had been since his father’s death, and even more so since the death of Antonio. She was a tender-hearted, compassionate woman, who had accepted the inquest result as gospel, and he had taken immense care to ensure she never found out about his confrontation outside the courthouse with Damien. He had paid off the reporter who had caught the declaration of his true view on the case.
But Lucy Steadman was not a good investment. She had been quite happy to let her father and brother keep her in comfort while spouting off about equality of the sexes, and frankly, after what he had learnt earlier today, any thought of assisting a Steadman in any way was anathema to him.
‘Yes, that is exactly right—otherwise the factory will close and a lot of people will lose their jobs. That would be a devastating blow to Dessington, the town I grew up in, and I can’t let that happen.’
‘You have little choice. The factory just about breaks even, but makes very little profit for its partners and consequently is of no interest to this bank. We will be selling to Mr Johnson, who is offering a good return on our original investment.’ He could not resist turning the screw a little. ‘Bottom line—unless you can come up with a higher figure than that currently on offer to buy out my bank’s interest in the next couple of weeks the sale will go through.’
‘But I can’t—I only have my shares.’
‘And
