Australia's Maverick Millionaire. Margaret Way

by walls of floor-to-ceiling bookcases containing a vast assortment of literature—law books galore, biographies, histories, great fiction, popular fiction, the best in crime, courtroom dramas, thrillers. You name it, Leo had it in his bookcases. He knew because he had borrowed very many a book. There was a burgundy leather sofa and a pair of matching leather armchairs; a good-sized coffee table where Meg could set out tea, coffee and accompaniments.

      “Thank you, Josh. I’m so pleased to see you. I’ve been missing our conversations. There was some talk you were out of town?” In truth Leo felt near starved of the stimulation he felt in his protégée’s company. Of course he knew better than anyone of the bond between Clio and Josh but he had long since acted on it. Much as he admired Josh, his chances of ever getting close to his beautiful granddaughter were very slim indeed. Regretfully, he couldn’t countenance Josh Hart as a suitor for all his brilliance. He knew nothing of Josh’s bloodline—the single mother’s drug overdose was bad, father unknown, no history—so he had to be rejected.

      “Just scouting around,” Josh said, taking his usual armchair facing his mentor.

      “So what’s in the briefcase?” Leo’s lined face was alight with interest. Josh and his endeavours were keeping him alive.

      Josh began to unzip the large black case. “I have some plans here for Aquarius.” He named the beautiful tropical island Leo had bought many years before. “We did talk briefly about it some months back, remember?’

      Leo nodded. “I had a notion this was coming.” Josh was always brimming with ideas, projects, plans. He was immensely talented and energetic. Just like he himself had once been. Every last one of the young man’s projects for which he, as Josh’s mentor, had laid out a lot of capital had paid off big time. So young to be so successful! So young to make a sizeable fortune! Josh reminded him of himself. He had long since faced the fact his son, Lyle, who stood to inherit, so much didn’t have a head for business. Sometimes it didn’t work out so well for heirs when their forebears were the ones who had made all the money.

      While Leo ruminated, Josh was busy pulling out maps, blueprints, architectural drawings, floor plans. He set them on the desk. “I think it’s time for a resort complex on the island, Leo. A resort where guests can swim, sail, scuba dive, snorkel in protected waters. I have an architectural sketch here for a marina and yacht club I’d like to show you. People could sail over from the mainland and drop anchor. The other side of the island would house solar water-purification facilities among other things. We could build a splendid villa for the use of the family plus other luxury villas hidden away in the grounds for well-heeled overseas tourists.”

      “Not a bit ambitious?” Leo questioned, chewing at his bottom lip.

      “I don’t think so, Leo. Hear me out. I’ve done all the figures, checked out government requirements. But I do need your interest and approval. It’s your island after all. But, as we agreed, it’s just sitting there. If you don’t think it advisable at this time, the project will go on hold. Until you do!” Josh suddenly laughed.

      Such an attractive sound, Leo thought. Josh had taken a long time to let down his guard. But eventually it had happened. Their minds met. At least their business minds. “Then come round and spread it all out before me.” Leo began to clear papers from his massive mahogany desk, shoving them into a drawer.

      “You won’t regret this, Leo.” Josh was already on his feet, a number of wound-up rolls in his hands.

      Driving towards the family home, Lyle Templeton thought it had been years since he’d had a real conversation with his father. He intended to have that conversation tonight. Not that there had been any estrangement as such, but things had been very different after his beloved Allegra’s tragic death. Allegra had been the glue that had held father and son together. Leo had made no effort to hide the fact he disliked and distrusted Keeley right from the beginning. He had been very much against the marriage, openly questioning whether his son was, in fact, the father of Keeley’s mystery baby. Now no one would ever know. Keeley had lost the child. Either she was one of the world’s finest actresses or she had suffered genuine grief. As had he. So he had not only lost a second child, he had lost his beloved Clio. Clio had simply not wanted to stay in the house with Keeley. She had gone to live with Leo, who had welcomed her with wide-open arms. It was as though Allegra had returned.

      Of late his father’s health had been on the decline. They all saw that. The threat to family had come not from Keeley, who didn’t rate, but from the youngster, Josh Hart. Leo had sponsored the boy’s education, private school through university, doling out huge sums of money to partner the young entrepreneur Hart eventually became. Not that Hart wasn’t brilliant—he hadn’t put a foot wrong—but Lyle truly felt he had been relegated to third place in his father’s life. Josh Hart had his father’s ear, and mind, worse, his heart. Not him. His father didn’t need him any more. He had Josh Hart. And another terrible worry had taken hold. For years hostile to the young man, hostility had increased to a pervading fear.

       Hart had ambitions to take his beautiful daughter.

      Hart was dangerous. He always had been. Bad blood.

      Hart’s Porsche was parked in the drive. He’d been reliably told Hart was looking at some property further north. Lyle would have found out he was back had he rung ahead to say he was coming, but he had wanted his visit to be in the nature of a pleasant surprise. Hart had beaten him to it. Thank God Clio wasn’t at home. One night a month she had dinner with Lisa and the family. Lisa was another one blind to any character flaws in Josh Hart. She thought the world of him. Hart had saved baby Ella’s life.

      To his surprise Lyle found the front door open. He called, “Hello,” but received no reply. He stood for a few minutes, frowning. He fully expected Mrs Palmer to rush to the entrance, an apology on her lips. She really should have been on hand. He moved further down the hall, becoming aware of raised voices. They were coming from his father’s study. Both voices were recognisable. Something was the matter. He was abruptly furious. Joshua Hart was in the house. The very idea put him on extreme edge.

      When he arrived outside the open study door, he was shocked to see his father lying flat on the floor, his striped blue and white cotton shirt open. Hart was on his knees, leaning over him, pressing down on Leo’s chest with both hands. Mrs Palmer was standing nearby, her face ashen, her hands clasped as if in prayer.

      “What the devil is going on here?” Anger engulfed him. He was shouting, he was so perturbed. Losing Allegra had almost sent him stark raving mad, now his father?

      No one answered him. He may not have been there. “Is Dad having a heart attack?”

      Belatedly Mrs Palmer found her voice. “I’m so sorry, Mr Lyle. I’ve called the emergency number. Paramedics are on the way.”

      “So what the hell is Hart doing? Shouldn’t he be leaving my father well alone until they arrive?”

      “Mr Leo was unconscious,” Meg Palmer explained, feeling acute pity for Lyle. “He wasn’t breathing. Josh has the training. CPR is a lifesaving technique. Think about it, now, Mr Lyle.” Lyle Templeton looked like he wanted to order Josh out of the house.

      “I’m thinking about what caused it,” Lyle choked. “Did Dad and Hart get into some kind of an argument? What are all those rolls on Dad’s desk? They look like architectural drawings to me. One of Hart’s schemes, trying to involve my father.”

      “That’s the ambulance now, Meg.” Hart looked up from exhaling breath into Leo’s slack mouth. He ignored Lyle entirely.

      “I’ll let them in.”

      “The damned door is open,” Lyle exploded. “I need some explanations here.”

      He wasn’t about to get one from Josh Hart.

      Clio took the call on her mobile, even though they had started dinner. It had to be an emergency. It was her father, telling her to return home immediately. “It’s your grandfather,” he said, breaking into a harsh sob. Then he hung up without