mistakes. The only woman Leo had sex with these days was Mandy, a fortyish divorced workaholic who ran a casting agency in London and who was the soul of discretion about their strictly sexual relationship.
Mandy liked Leo, and she liked sex. What she wouldn’t like was being featured in the gossip columns of London’s tabloids as Leo Wolfe’s latest squeeze. She had two teenage sons at boarding school whom she adored and an ex-husband whom she detested. She didn’t want to get married again. She just wanted some company in bed occasionally. They met at her Kensington town house once or twice a week when Leo was in town.
‘I’m not a womaniser,’ Leo denied, annoyed with his father for even thinking that he was.
‘Of course you are, Leo,’ Henry refuted coolly. ‘It’s in your blood. You’re just like me. I loved your mother dearly, but I sometimes think it was a blessing that she passed away when she did. I wouldn’t have stayed faithful to her. I would have made her miserable, the way you made Grace miserable,’ he pronounced as he swept the wine glass to his lips.
‘I was not unfaithful to Grace,’ Leo bit out through clenched teeth. ‘And I did not make her miserable.’ Not till after he had asked her for a divorce, that was. Till then, Grace had been totally unaware of the fact that he didn’t love her. And that he had never loved her—although Leo had thought he had when he had asked her to marry him. But he’d been only twenty, for pity’s sake, and she’d been pregnant with his child. Lust had tricked him into believing he was in love.
The lust lasted till Liam had been born, which was when Leo had really fallen in love—with his son. He’d tried desperately to make the marriage work for the baby’s sake. He’d pretended and pretended till it had nearly driven him mad. In the end, just before their ninth wedding anniversary, he’d admitted defeat and asked Grace for a divorce. He’d just started getting interested in the movie-making business and had realised he wanted to change more than just his profession. He’d never enjoyed being a lawyer, and he could no longer stand making love to a woman whom he didn’t love.
He was fortunate that Grace had been nice enough not to punish him for not loving her. She’d given him joint custody of Liam and they were still good friends today. She’d eventually found someone else to marry and seemed happy.
But Leo had never forgotten the pain in her eyes when he’d told her that he’d fallen out of love with her. He hadn’t admitted that he’d never loved her, but she’d been shattered all the same. He’d vowed then and there to not ever hurt another person like that again. And he hadn’t, thank heavens. Not even when he’d got divorced for a second time a few years back.
Henry returned his glass to the table before settling a sceptical gaze on his son. ‘Really, Leo?’ he said. ‘What was the problem, then? You never did fully explain the reasons behind your first divorce. I just presumed there was another woman. After all, you were mixing with a pretty racy crowd by then.’
‘There wasn’t any other woman. I just didn’t love Grace any more.’
‘I see. I’m sorry to have misjudged you. But you could have set me straight before this. Why didn’t you?’
‘I just didn’t like talking about it. I guess I was ashamed of myself.’
‘No need to feel ashamed for being honest. So you weren’t unfaithful; mmm, I am surprised. I presume the same doesn’t hold for your second marriage?’
Leo couldn’t help laughing. But there was a slightly bitter edge to his amusement.
‘Unfaithfulness was certainly a large factor in that divorce,’ he admitted. ‘Just not mine.’
Henry frowned over the rim of his wine glass which had frozen just before reaching his lips. ‘Are you saying Helene was unfaithful to you?’
Again, Leo had to laugh. ‘Thank you for making it sound like that’s impossible.’
Henry looked hard at his son and saw what he always saw: a very handsome, very successful, very charming man. Women had always found him irresistible, ever since he was a little boy.
His Aunt Victoria had adored him, making sure he didn’t lack for feminine love and attention as he grew up. She’d taken responsibility for that part of his education which no father or school could provide, giving him a love of the things women loved, like movies and music.
Each year, during Leo’s summer holidays from school, she’d taken him abroad, showing him the world’s wonders and teaching him all there was to know about different cultures. She’d also taught him another talent: how to listen. Which was why the female sex found him so appealing. There was nothing more seductive to a woman than a man who listened to them. Of course, it did help that he’d also been blessed with great genes. Good looks did run in the family.
It seemed unbelievable to Henry that any woman would look elsewhere when she had a man like Leo in her life and in her bed.
‘So, who was the silly girl sleeping with?’ he asked. ‘One of her leading men, I suppose?’
‘All of them, it seems,’ Leo admitted drily. ‘Or so I found out later. I only caught her with one of them. She claimed it was only sex; that she did it to relax during a shoot. I didn’t quite see it that way. Now, could we talk about something else? This wine, perhaps?’
‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s as good as any you can buy in Europe.’
‘There’s nothing to compare with a South Australian Shiraz. And there’s nothing to compare with Sydney Harbour on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Let’s hope the good weather holds, then,’ Leo said.
‘It should. I just hope Violet doesn’t do a runner at the last moment.’
‘You think she might?’
Henry frowned. ‘Actually, no, I don’t. Which is odd in itself. She sounded different on the phone just now. More confident. No; I think she’ll turn up. I just hope she doesn’t come as someone boring like Jane Eyre. Or a nun.’
‘Most of the movies I’ve seen with nuns in them aren’t boring.’
‘True. Violet would probably come as the nun in that old movie set during the war on an island in the Pacific. What was it, now?’
‘Heaven Knows, Mr Allison.’
He slanted Leo an admiring glance. ‘Yes, that’s the one. You do know your movies, don’t you?’
‘I should do. It’s my job. Besides, that particular movie was one of Aunt Vicky’s favourites.’
‘Dear Victoria,’ Henry said wistfully. ‘I still miss her terribly, you know.’
‘So do I.’ Leo’s aunt had died a few years back, not long before Leo had married Helene. Perhaps, if she’d been alive, Aunt Vicky would have seen through Helen’s surface beauty to the ugliness which lay beneath. She’d been an excellent judge of character.
‘You know, Henry, Aunt Vicky would have loved this place.’
‘Yes. I do believe she would have. Shall we have a toast to her?’ Henry suggested.
