Master of Her Virtue - By Miranda Lee Page 0,5

books whose authors now commanded top advances and royalties.

Soon, the Wolfe Literary Agency had become the literary agency to belong to if you were a thriller writer. And, whilst Henry wasn’t interested in expanding his agency at his age, his father had had the nous to hire this Violet as his assistant once she’d graduated from university. He’d also had the nous to buy this apartment—fully furnished—when it had come on the somewhat depressed market just over two years ago.

Leo had to admit that he was impressed with the place. He was impressed with Sydney, too. It was a glorious-looking city, with a superb climate and a wealth of things to see and do. Okay, so there weren’t as many theatres and museums as London boasted, but the restaurants were top class, the shopping perfectly adequate and the beaches to die for.

Not to mention the harbour. He’d only been here a week but already he could see the attraction for people from gloomy old England. There was something uplifting in seeing a clear blue sky in which the sun shone brightly.

It had certainly uplifted him. Leo had been feeling a bit low of late, what with his last movie having been a box-office flop. Entirely his fault, of course. He should never have attempted to make a two-hour film out of a thousand-page novel which was character- rather than plot-based. Failure had been inevitable.

Still, it had been a bitter pill to swallow after producing a string of hits over the past decade. One of the reasons he’d accepted his father’s invitation to spend Christmas and the New Year with him here in Sydney was to get away from the media—not to mention his so-called friends, the ones who seemed to enjoy saying that his Midas touch with movies might be on the wane. By the time he went back to England, he hoped the critics would have found someone else to slam with their poisonous reviews. For pity’s sake, the movie hadn’t been that bad!

Leo was just finishing off his glass of Shiraz when the glass door to his immediate left slid back and his father stepped out onto the huge curving balcony which fronted the entire apartment. Leo was glad to see that he’d brought the bottle with him, as well as a glass for himself.

‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books,’ Henry said enigmatically as he made his way past Leo’s outstretched legs, sat down and filled his own glass from the bottle.

It was an irritating habit of Henry’s, starting a conversation with a statement like that, then offering no explanation till questioned further. He enjoyed piquing people’s curiosity. Henry called it his cliff-hanger tactic.

‘What is?’ Leo asked as he placed his own now-empty glass on the circular table which separated them.

Henry refilled Leo’s glass before he lifted his eyes to his son. ‘That was Violet on the phone. You know? My assistant. You’ll never guess what—she’s actually coming to my New Year’s Eve party!’

Leo appreciated Henry’s surprise. He knew quite a bit about his father’s assistant. He knew that Violet, whilst extremely intelligent, was also extremely antisocial. Henry said that, although not plain, she was a dreadful dresser with no sense of style and no confidence in herself as a woman. Which Henry considered a shame, since he said she had a lot to offer, if only she’d come out of her shell and make the most of herself. She didn’t mind going out to lunch or coffee with Henry alone, but she never, ever accompanied him to any of his client luncheons, or accepted any of Henry’s other invitations, which were many and varied.

Henry had always been a social animal, loving opening nights and parties of any kind. When he’d lived in London, his New Year’s Eve parties had been legendary, the food and wine top draw, the guest lists full of fascinating people. He’d continued that tradition out here.

Violet, however, had not attended even one of Henry’s New Year’s Eve parties, not even when he’d moved in to this apartment, despite it overlooking the harbour and the bridge where all the guests would have an uninterrupted view of the famous fireworks which went off over Sydney Harbour each New Year’s Eve at midnight. One would have thought she’d have made the effort to come just to see them. But apparently not.

According to Henry, she boarded with an elderly widow and had never had a boyfriend. Or, she hadn’t since she’d started working full-time for Henry.