Within the hour he had his answer. Five minutes later, anticipation leaping in him, having keyed in the address, he was staring at an aerial image on his computer screen of the house Flavia called home. His first reaction was immediate.
No wonder she prefers it to London!
It might not be the largest country house he’d seen, and it certainly wasn’t what the British called a stately pile, but the substantial Georgian greystone dwelling was lapped by several acres of lawned gardens, girdled with woods and set amongst the fields and rolling hills of deep English countryside.
A little jewel of a place, he could see.
Is that where she is now?
For a moment longer he stared at the image, as if he might see Flavia suddenly appear, walking out of the house. Then, with a start, he reached for his phone, ready to dial the number that went with the address. He felt his spirits leap, buoyed by searing hope. In less than a moment she might be answering the phone, speaking to him—
His office door opened. Leon’s hand froze. His PA was standing there, hovering and looking harassed.
‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, but Mr Lassiter is in my office—’ she said. ‘He is asking to see you. I know he doesn’t have an appointment, but …’ Her voice trailed off and she looked uncomfortable.
Exasperation spiked in Leon. God, the man had lousy timing, all right! For an instant he felt like telling him to get lost, but then, with a steadying intake of breath, he subsided. OK, he might as well see the man. For all he knew Lassiter might have come here about Flavia.
Fear struck him. Was that why Lassiter was here? Had something happened to Flavia? Had she had an accident? A disaster?
Even before he’d nodded at his PA, Lassiter had walked in. His expression, Leon could see instantly, was not that of a man come to report bad news about his daughter. There was an air of confident jauntiness that immediately set Leon’s teeth on edge. So did Lassiter’s equally jaunty greeting, and the way he took a seat without being invited.
Leon’s expression lost any sign of the alarm it had momentarily held, and darkened. ‘We had an appointment,’ he said icily, ‘made at your insistence, for which I specifically flew back to this country—and you failed to show.’
Lassiter was unabashed. ‘Yes, sorry about that, old chap,’ he answered airily, sounding not in the least apologetic. ‘I had to fly to the Far East.’ He paused minutely. ‘Bit of a turn-up for the books on my side, as it happens.’
He looked expectantly across at Leon, who remained blank-faced. Beneath his impassive expression, however, he was wishing Lassiter to perdition. The last thing he wanted was to have to focus on his bail-out proposal. All he wanted to do—urgently—was get his office to himself and phone Flavia’s home. Impatience burned in him. But he crushed it down. Like it or not, Lassiter was here, and Leon would have to deal with him first.
Lassiter had pursed his lips. He was looking, Leon assessed, sleeker than usual. Smugger than he had been in their previous exchanges, when his predominant attitude had veered between ingratiating and blustering. Leon waited, irritation suppressed, for Lassiter to continue.
‘Yes,’ went on Lassiter, as though Leon had made some encouraging remark, ‘looks like there’s another interested party out in the Far East. Made me a very tempting offer, I must say.’
He looked expectantly across at Leon, whose impassive regard remained undented. Lassiter was doing nothing except wasting his time and increasing Leon’s irritation.
‘Very tempting,’ Lassiter went on after a moment. He looked hard at Leon. ‘They’re not interested in taking any equity. Just offering me a generous line of credit for further expansion.’
‘Then I can see the attraction for you,’ agreed Leon.
Flavia’s father went on staring, clearly trying to read Leon’s reaction, and equally clearly taken aback by his statement of agreement.
‘So you can see,’ he went on, ‘why I’m giving them serious consideration.’
‘Yes, I can,’ was all the response he got.
Leon’s deliberate impassivity triggered Lassiter into showing his hand completely.
‘So why would I accept your offer if I can avoid losing equity by taking this new one that’s come up?’
‘Why indeed?’ Leon agreed again. Then, with a slight lift of his hand, as he was getting bored now, as well as irritated, he simply said, ‘I thought I’d made it clear that my deal is the one we discussed. It won’t change. If this new offer means you don’t accept mine, so be it.’
He’d kept his tone neutral, and the flash of anger in Lassiter’s pouched eyes at being unable to hustle Leon into renegotiating his proposal left him unmoved. Any turnaround by him would be on his terms, not Lassiter’s, and if Lassiter had found another white knight abroad, with less stringent conditions, good luck to him. To his mind, to bail out Lassiter without the control that equity would afford would be financial madness—Lassiter would just squander any loans and continue unabated in his lucrative but exploitative African ventures.
His gaze rested, unimpressed, on Alistair Lassiter.
It’s a miracle Flavia isn’t like her father—
The thought formed in Leon’s head as he levelled his gaze on Lassiter. Flavia’s warm sympathy for his pro bono work in South America, and her heartfelt indignation at the economic exploitation so many people suffered, was a complete contrast to her father’s callous attitude that profiteering out of the impoverished Third World was perfectly acceptable.
Thinking of Flavia made his eyes flicker automatically to the image on the computer screen—the beautiful house in the tranquil Dorset countryside that she lived in and called home. Was s