Her father was right. People did like to confide in her. More so now than ever. Since the accident, she’d developed a genuinely compassionate ear, whereas before, her being a good listener had just been a social skill, learned from her mother.
Leah knew exactly what was wrong with Beville Holdings. The problems were fixable. If the new boss knew where to look, and whose advice to take.
‘Beville Holdings has excellent products,’ came her carefully worded reply. ‘But poor management. I think your shares will increase in value.’
Joachim smiled. Smart girl, his daughter. Smart and beautiful and not cut out to spend her life being a receptionist out in the boondocks. Or for living alone, for that matter.
Joachim could understand that her husband’s defection had hurt her terribly. But life went on.
Leah was only twenty-six. Time for her to start dating again. But he couldn’t force the issue. He’d have to be subtle. Maybe he’d surprise her with a dinner party for next Saturday night, invite a few old friends, people he knew she liked. But he’d also slip in someone new, some handsome, highly eligible young man who might impress her.
But who?
Joachim couldn’t think of anyone. With a sigh he picked up the paper again and found himself staring down at the photograph of Jason Pollack. Suddenly, a voice whispered to him that he should invite him. Jason Pollack.
Joachim’s first reaction was hell, no. Not some ambitious bastard who’d married for money. But the voice insisted. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was Isabel, whispering to him. Isabel, who hadn’t liked Carl one bit and who’d said Leah needed to marry a different type of man. A stronger, self-made man.
Isabel had been right about Carl.
Jason Pollack was a strong man, Joachim told himself. And a self-made man. A man who could probably do with a new wife. A younger one this time who could give him children.
Joachim still had his doubts, but that soft voice was very persistent.
All right, he whispered back in his head.
Don’t tell Leah, the voice added.
Joachim flicked a quick glance across the table at his daughter.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Nothing. Nothing.’
But the die was set. He would invite Pollack to dinner, and he would not tell Leah. Which left him with the problem of getting her to attend. Not an easy task.
But he would persuade her. Somehow.
CHAPTER TWO
LEAH TURNED INTO the driveway of Beville Holdings, stopping at the security gate and smiling over at Ted, the man who manned the gate on the morning shift. Usually, he just smiled back and pressed the button that lifted the barrier, allowing her to drive through.
Today, Ted slid back the window and waved for Leah to wind her window down. Which she did.
‘He’s here,’ he called to her in a conspiratorial voice. ‘The new boss.’
‘What?’ Leah’s stomach twisted into an instant knot. She’d expected Jason Pollock to show up at work sooner or later, but not this soon.
‘Didn’t you read about the takeover in yesterday’s paper?’ Ted asked her.
‘Er…no, I didn’t,’ Leah replied, not wanting to seem too on the ball. She didn’t exactly play a blonde bimbo role at work, but at the same time, she didn’t drop any clues over who she really was. She liked it that she was treated as a simple working-class girl from Gladesville. No one at Beville Holdings had ever been to her waterview apartment or connected her surname—Johannsen—with the diamond dynasty.
‘Well, his name is Mr Pollack and he arrived over an hour ago to check out the factory. He’ll be heading over to your section soon, I’ll bet, so just as well you’re not late.’
‘What’s he like?’ Leah asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
‘Not too bad. I think my job’s safe. When he drove up to the gate just after seven and announced who he was, I still asked him for ID, and he seemed to like that.’
‘Good for you. What’s he driving? A flash car, I’ll bet.’
‘A dark blue sporty one.’
Leah’s top lip curled. Typical. Her father had declared yesterday that Jason Pollack wasn’t some kind of playboy—despite his living in a penthouse.
But men like that always ran true to form. Give a man money and he didn’t choose to putter around in anything small, or sedate. Rich people picked cars that supposedly reflected their personality, and power.
Leah had once zipped around Sydney in a red, top-of-the-range roadster, a present from her father on her twenty-first birthday. She’d traded it in for a white, second-hand hatchback when she got this job, not wanting anyone at work to think of her as a rich bitch. She wanted to be liked for herself, not her money.
‘Thanks for the warning, Ted,’ Leah said, and drove on, turning into the staff car park, which was surprisingly full. All the managers’ cars were there, an unusual occurrence for this hour on a Monday morning. They must have heard about the takeover, too, and decided to put their best feet forward.
The only empty car space in the row nearest the main office building was right next to a dark blue sports car.
Leah hesitated, then slid her vehicle in next to it, determined not to surrender to these silly nerves, which were currently turning her insides into a washing machine.
He was just a man, for pity’s sake. She’d met men just as attractive. And just as rich. Heck, she’d been married to one!
Okay, so she’d found Jason Pollack’s photo extremely attractive. So what?
Once she actually met the man, his undoubtedly up-himself personality would soon stop these ridiculous stomach flutters.
Admittedly, a dark blue sports car suggested that Jason Pollack wasn’t a total show pony, like her ex. Carl would have rocked up in something flashy and gold, or silver. That was exactly what she’d seen Carl sitting in the last time their paths crossed. Something flashy and silver.
Leah climbed out from behind the wheel and walked round to her passenger side, opening the door there to retrieve her handbag and peeping into the blue sports car at the same time.
Not a thing on the leather seats, or on the floor. Nothing to give her a glimpse of Jason Pollack’s character. Except that it looked like he was a neat freak. There wasn’t a single piece of rubbish anywhere. Or a spot of dirt. The car gleamed in the morning sun, both inside and outside.
People like that were usually very critical, and controlling.
‘Better get a move on then, girlie,’ she muttered to herself as she zapped the lock on her key and hurried up the path that led to the head office, a rectangular brick
