It wasn’t that he wouldn’t miss her while she was playing the role of a lifetime as Olympus’s virgin bride. But Leo Karp had just thrown him a curveball that would make Lefty Grove weep with envy, and he needed some time on his own. To think. I just need to think. His first impulse was to go straight to Diana’s house and pour his heart out to her, but he quickly thought better of it. It might be late at night, but the photographers surrounding his sister’s very slightly decrepit Beverly Hills mansion observed no division between night and day. Even now, they were probably out there, huddled in the bushes out back by the pool, hanging from the treetops in the pitch-darkness like a pack of bats. Vampires, more like. All he needed was a single blurry photograph of him, a newly engaged man, entering or leaving the home of his “former paramour” at a suspicious hour to leak to the press and they’d be on him like flies on a carcass. Poor Margo. She’d looked so hopeful, so pathetically happy when Mr.
