Alistair Lassiter was talking at him. He’d been talking at him for the last twenty minutes, and Leon had stopped listening after the first ten. He’d heard all he needed to know. The man was getting desperate. That much was screamingly obvious. Leon had been well aware of the financial precariousness of the Lassiter organisation, but now—whether he realised it or not, and Leon suspected he didn’t—Alistair Lassiter had shown him that there were no white knights in the offing to save his sorry, extravagant skin. All that was left for Leon to decide was whether he would do so. But that wasn’t what was currently occupying his mind. It wasn’t Alistair Lassiter’s business affairs that were preoccupying him. It was his daughter. Thoughts about her were going round and round in succession. Talk about conflicted … After their final barbed exchange at the charity function, with Flavia Lassiter doing her damnedest to make him think her rude and stuck up to the point where he was almost ready to wash his hands of her, he’d then completely reversed his decision while taking her home!
