The Affair (14 page)

Nina’s hips rose off the seat to meet him, her thighs tensing as her body sought more of that tortuous, darting tongue. It caused such sweet exquisite agony.

Leo sat up and in an instant Nina moved herself onto him, straddling his lap. They fumbled together, their hunger wild and urgent, wanting, needing to meld together. Nina groaned loudly as she felt herself stretched and filled. Their bodies discovered a natural rhythm, a primal dance as old as time. Nina felt her body swell and pulsate. Her pleasure reached a crescendo. No longer aware of what she was doing, she sank her teeth into Leo’s shoulder.

Her climax was fierce and violent, leaving her trembling. As she slowly became aware of her surroundings again she was aware of Leo laughing delightedly in her ear. His eyes were closed and he wore an expression of such carefree bliss. She watched fascinated at the joy and wonder that played across his face. Slowly he opened his eyes.

They looked at each other for such a long time, sharing a new knowledge and understanding. Nina had never felt so intimately connected to anyone in her life. Some deep, indefinable need she had
carried with her had just been met. It defied articulation but cried out for acknowledgement. She felt humbled and grateful. They stayed entwined, the rain continuing to fall about them, gently swaying and nuzzling into each other’s neck.

James felt panic, total blind panic. He tried to end the conversation normally, with a cheery goodbye to his father. He thought he had achieved it. Frederick sounded perfectly relaxed and unsuspecting as he rang off.

James had spent days agonising over what he would say and how he would say it, before he made the call. He needed to know if Wilde Wines could pay out Lloyd’s. He wanted to know if there was some cash that they could call on. He couldn’t ask his father outright but after days of planning different strategies, James believed he had found one that was half plausible. So he picked up the phone and dialled the winery.

James intimated there was a big government program being planned to push Australian wines in
London. Lots of money would be spent on marketing and expensive advertising campaigns. It was not to be anything like the embarrassingly parochial campaign of the early eighties when the government promoted Australian wine under labels like Wallaby White and Roo Red, he assured his father. This campaign was to be sophisticated and slick, putting Australian wines on par with the American wines that were now flooding the British market.

James thought it would be a good opportunity for Wilde Wines to try a toe in the water overseas. But it might require some capital expenditure from Wilde Wines. So, he said, trying to sound businesslike to his patient father, would there be any cash available in the business that they could get at easily if they suddenly needed it? Just if something did come up? Was there any money in the kitty for emergencies or opportunities?

Frederick had appeared interested in the idea. It was something James should definitely keep close to, in case there was some potential for the business. But unfortunately there was no money in the kitty right now. Mark had just spent a few hundred thousand on an osmosis filtration unit and it would take some time for them to pay it off. He had explained that it was all a question of timing and right now Wilde Wines had enough debt. He had chuckled at James’s impatience but praised his enthusiasm.

‘Good on you, lad,’ he said warmly.

James had heard his own voice, trying to sound
cheerful and not reveal the devastation he was feeling. He had switched into automatic mode, saying what was expected. Take care. Have a good week. Love to Mum. His mind was concentrating on making his voice sound normal and steadying his hand, which was shaking uncontrollably as it gripped the telephone receiver.

James burst into Felix’s office.

‘I’m fucked,’ he said. The tic below his eye was working furiously. ‘Fucked, fucked, fucked.’

He paced around the room trying to find the words to explain. Felix had a fair idea what was coming but he waited for his friend to tell him.

‘There is no kitty. They have just bought some fandangled new osmosis filtration thing that Mark didn’t need last year but apparently had to have now.’

Felix slowly shook his head. James didn’t have to ask what that meant. He knew. In the pit of his acid-churning stomach, he knew. The sweat broke out on his forehead.

‘There is no money to pay out Lloyd’s. Felix, does that mean what I think it does? Tell me I’m wrong.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Tell me it’s not what I think.’

Felix started smoothing his hair. His voice became even quieter. James had to lean forward to hear what he was saying. He felt icy fingers of dread along his skin.

‘I’m sorry, James. Lloyd’s want their money. And in cash. They don’t want a third share in a winery, no matter how much promise it shows. Whatever
your share is worth they want it in cash. If you don’t have it, they will force you to sell the business to get it. And they are legally able to do that.’

James heard Felix’s voice coming to him from what seemed to be a long distance. Confirmation of the ramifications hit him in the chest as a physical blow. He had trouble getting the breath into his lungs. There didn’t seem to be enough of it in the room. He leaned forward, his head between his knees, looking for relief. If he could just get some air. The blood rushed through his ears loudly and painfully. He could feel his heart straining in his chest. Panic threatened to overwhelm him.

James breathed slowly and deeply, concentrating on each breath. He wasn’t having a heart attack, he told himself. He almost felt disappointment. He accepted that he was in Felix’s office, facing a disaster and he just had to deal with it.

‘What are you saying?’ he asked finally, his voice hoarse. James hoped Felix wouldn’t say it, make it real.

‘James, your family is going to lose the vineyard.’

In the centre of Leo’s living room was a console. It was the nerve centre of his penthouse apartment and from here he could feast on a 360 degree view of Sydney, as well as dictate his world. He turned the living room lights up, the air-conditioning off and selected a CD, one of eight already loaded into the Bang & Olufsen player discreetly tucked into a wall unit.
Carmina Burana
rang out, triumphant and
vivacious. Leo pottered around the huge apartment, absorbing the power and grandeur of the music.

He unzipped his sailing bag and pulled everything out, tossing dirty polo shirts and socks towards the laundry as he hummed, breaking into Latin for the sections he knew and translating them in his head into English. He set aside a round brass clock, shaped like a porthole, that he had removed from the boat. It had stopped working and he planned to pull it apart later on.

…
via lata gradior more iuventutis (I travel the
broad path as is the way of youth)
…

The music built to a crescendo of powerful pagan sensuality which he allowed to rise within him.

…
implicor et vitiis immemor virtutis (I give myself
to vice, unmindful of virtue)
…

He picked up his old sailing jumper. Like most sailors, Leo was superstitious and wouldn’t sail out of the marina without this necessary favourite. It was grey, stretched out of shape and had been hand-knitted in cable-stitch by his mother for his father over twenty years ago. Leo forced himself to put it out for the cleaning lady, Mrs Rossetti, to hand-wash every six months or so.

The smell of perfume wafted to his nostrils as he lifted it. It was
her
perfume. He had lent her his jumper briefly in the tree, when he feared she might be cold. He loved seeing her in it. Then she had taken it off and sprinted up the path, out of sight. Leo buried his nose in the wool.

…
voluptatis avidus magis quam salutis (I am eager
for the pleasures of the flesh more than for salvation)
…

It gave such a faint, delicious hint of that woman. It was an intoxicating scent that had filled his head when he nuzzled between her breasts. It was tantalising to remember it, to try to recapture it. The memory, like the traces of her perfume, was potent but ethereal. The more he tried to grasp it, the further out of his reach it retreated.

He carefully set the jumper aside. Mrs Rossetti wouldn’t be getting it this week.

Leo was early for the scheduled lunch with his accountant. He had found a taxi easily, the traffic had been unusually light, even the traffic lights had continually turned green as they approached. Leo laughed out loud. The whole universe was conspiring in his favour it seemed. So the old saying was true, all the world loved a lover.

He sat patiently at the table, bantering with the waiter Bepi as he juggled dishes and diners around the room. Leo’s mood was infectious and Bepi’s own bad humour, brought on by too little sleep and too many customers, dissipated. Leo found himself grinning.

‘You’re sure in a good mood today,’ Bepi said. ‘Did you win lotto or something?’

Leo laughed. ‘Something like that.’

Leo thought of those large brown eyes that
could be so sad and vulnerable one minute and full of mischief the next. He remembered her teeth biting into his shoulder and the sensations that had shuddered through his body. He wondered what
she
was doing right at that moment. He hoped she was thinking of him. For the past few days, since they had come down out of the tree and gone off in their different directions, she had been constantly in his mind, hovering there whether she was the subject of his thoughts or not.

He had never before felt this way about a woman. Usually they fell for him while he kept his heart safely tucked away. Married women, he had found, were a lot less complicated. They knew the rules of the game even better. They didn’t demand all his time and energy and the endings were less messy. But that was before he met
her,
she of the lilting voice and laughing eyes. Leo wanted to give her all his time and energy. He wanted to climb back up that tree and stay there.

He explored his emotions. Joy. Euphoria. He planned to feel this way forever. He looked around him and was overcome with pity for everyone else in the room because they couldn’t share this bliss.

He sat back in the chair and allowed Bepi to light his cigarette and pour him a glass of chianti. He didn’t mind being kept waiting. He would be happy to daydream the rest of the afternoon away. And if he hadn’t had classes he would have.

Leo was so absorbed with his thoughts he didn’t even notice the pretty blonde woman at the neighbouring table as she played suggestively with the
stem of her wine glass, casting him flirty looks from under long thick eyelashes. Bepi noticed and hoped his favourite customer was all right. He really didn’t seem to be himself today.

Finally Felix arrived, flustered and frowning.

‘Sorry I’m late.’

Leo, not the least bit fussed, tried to put him at ease. ‘Relax, I’ve only just arrived myself.’

Felix was a long way from being relaxed. As he took off his suit jacket Leo noticed large saddlebags of sweat spreading from each underarm across his back. When he was seated he kept running his fingers through his short hair.

Leo poured him a glass of wine. ‘This will make you feel better.’

It didn’t. Felix felt sick to the core. Seeing Leo so jovial didn’t help. Felix was fairly certain he could wipe that smile off his face without too much effort. He had become used to doing that in the past few weeks. Some clients needed more explanation than others. Some had been angry with Felix, others bewildered, one couple wanted to fight Lloyd’s all the way. Felix felt personally responsible for them all. The toll of such a burden was beginning to tell.

Leo prattled on about sailing, excited about some race he had won. Felix had trouble concentrating on what he was saying. He didn’t care much for sailing himself. Too much water. Leo enquired after business and Felix at last saw his opening. He brought a file out from his briefcase and placed it on the table.

‘How long have I been managing your affairs?’ he began.

‘Eight years. Since I was twenty. Two years after my parents died.’

Felix nodded.

‘You’ve been a great client, Leo. You’ve always taken my advice and I hope that over the years I’ve given you good advice.’

‘Hey, Felix, I’m happy. Always have been. You sound so serious. What’s this all about?’

Felix opened the file and took out some papers. Leo noticed they carried the letterhead Lloyd’s of London. Leo remembered leaving a meeting about Lloyd’s just … when was it … three weeks ago? That’s right. And what a good thing he had, he thought with a smile. That was when he had met her. Quite simply the sexiest woman alive.

Lost in his private reverie Leo missed some of what Felix was saying. He pulled his mind back. ‘… I don’t know what the individual exposure will be. But I have to be honest with you, Leo, it doesn’t look good.’

So one of his investments had gone belly up. Is that what was upsetting Felix? Leo was a wealthy man but he paid scant attention to the details, leaving that in Felix’s capable hands. And Leo had no reason to doubt he was doing a good job.

Leo lived a conservative life, spending most of his time attending lectures, studying in the university library or pottering about on his boat. In the two years following his parents’ death when he was eighteen he had been overwhelmed by financial
matters that needed to be attended to, so he had turned to that financial whiz from his school days, Felix Butterworth. In their fifth year of secondary school Leo had paid Felix to do a couple of economics assignments and had been delighted to score high distinctions. When he needed real life financial advice, Felix was the obvious choice. He had told Felix how much he needed to live on and received a generous income to cover it. A few years later when he wanted to buy an apartment, he had bought the nicest one he could find that was within walking distance of the Cruising Yacht Club and Felix had arranged payment. Leo was confident that everything else was being invested and reinvested, which suited him just fine. He was free to get on with what really interested him.

Leo didn’t know how much he was worth and it never occurred to him to ask. He had been a Lloyd’s name for six years, as his father had been before him. His complacency about his wealth was the result of being born into it. Leo’s parents, who were in their forties when he was born, hadn’t been flashy people and money was seldom discussed in the family home. They were academics, interested in the pursuit of knowledge and the world of ideas.

Leo, as he had been taught, accepted wealth as his due and then never gave it another thought. He knew his money was spread across many different businesses from shopping centres to hotels to ultra-conservative stocks and bonds.

Now it seemed one of the investments had
gone bad. He wasn’t about to lose sleep over it. But he would humour Felix, who really did take such things far too seriously. To be fair, thought Leo, that was what he paid him for.

‘How much do I have invested with Lloyd’s?’ asked Leo.

‘It’s not that simple,’ replied Felix. ‘There’s just no way of telling at this stage.’

‘Bottom line, Felix. What’s the worst-case scenario?’

‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. I think you may have to sell off some other investments. And it’s not the best time to sell, with what is happening in Asia. But your investments are so varied I think you can weather it. It just depends how much they want from you and at what price I can get them to settle. I won’t know that for another few weeks, maybe months.’