‘Oh, yeah,’ Lina said casually. ‘Mention me, did ’e?’
‘Thinks you’re enchanting.’
‘Enchanting, huh?’ she said, with a pleased smile.
‘You do know he has a girlfriend?’
‘Yes. He mumbled something about her busting in an’ shooting me.’
‘Don’t think she wouldn’t,’ Max said, imagining the headlines. ‘Dahlia’s a tough lady, and I mean lady. She’s not one of those pretty little things he takes to bed on occasion.’
‘Who is she?’ Lina asked curiously.
‘Dahlia Summers is a serious actress. She and Charlie have been on and off for years. They have a two-year-old son together, Sport.’
‘That’s ’is name?’
‘Chosen by Charlie himself.’
‘Figures. Anyway,’ she added, ‘I wasn’t planning on marrying him.’
Max laughed. ‘I’m relieved to hear that, ’cause I’m not into sleeping with married women.’
‘What makes you think you’re sleeping with me tonight?’ she said, teasing him with a slow, sexy look.
‘Because . . . you remind me of myself. We’re both predators. We both get off on stalking the prey.’
‘Yes?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said.
Lina smiled. For an agent Max Steele was pretty damn smart. And she liked that in a man. Brains and a great butt. Two major assets.
Tonight, if he kept up the dialogue, Mr Max Steele might get extraordinarily lucky.
Chapter Forty-Six
Slowly Brigette regained consciousness. As she began to come to and remembered what had happened, she was gripped with fear.
She was lying on the bed in the bedroom of her hotel suite, with Carlo hovering over her holding a damp towel to her forehead. He was fully dressed. She wasn’t. ‘You fainted,’ he said.
‘I didn’t faint,’ she managed, wincing with pain because it felt as if someone had hit her across the face with a sledgehammer.
‘Yes, you did,’ he said, in a soothing voice, his patrician features calm and composed. ‘I was worried about you.’
This was unbelievable! He’d beaten her into unconsciousness and now he was sitting on the edge of the bed acting as if nothing had happened.
She attempted to move.
‘Stay where you are,’ he said. ‘We don’t want you fainting again, cara.’
Oh, God! This was crazy. He’d beaten her up and now he was acting like a concerned boyfriend.
She lay very still, trying to collect her thoughts. What would Lucky do? Probably shoot his balls off and run. Lucky lived by her own rules.
She reached up and touched her face, her cheek felt tender and swollen where he’d hit her. Maybe she was marked for life. Should she start screaming? Or now that he seemed calm, should she simply work on getting him out of there? Some night of revenge this was turning out to be.
‘Carlo,’ she said, in a cool, even tone, ‘I think it would be best if you left.’
‘Why?’ he said, frowning.
Why? Was he kidding? Didn’t he know what he’d done?
‘Because I’m tired and I want to sleep. We can talk in the morning.’
‘I can’t leave you, Brigette,’ he said. ‘I never want to leave you again.’
‘I know,’ she said, playing along with this bizarre game. ‘I feel the same way. But right now I’m exhausted.’
‘I hit you, didn’t I?’ he said.
‘Well . . . yes.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ he said, ‘but you made me so mad.’ He got up and began pacing around the room. ‘You treated me badly, Brigette. I can’t stand it when people treat me badly.’
She was smart enough not to get into it with him. She did not want him losing control again, he was obviously unbalanced.
‘I’m sorry if you think I treated you badly,’ she said slowly.
‘You accused me of things,’ he said heatedly. ‘Things that are not true.’
‘Maybe I was mistaken,’ she said, struggling to sit up.
Without warning, he leaned over and hugged her. She felt his shoulders begin to shake. Oh, God! He was actually crying.
‘Brigette,’ he sobbed, ‘you must forgive me. Sometimes I don’t know what I do. Please – forgive me.’
‘I need to sleep, Carlo,’ she said, asserting herself.
‘No, no, I can’t be alone,’ he said. ‘Come home with me to my apartment.’
‘That’s impossible.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m uh . . . expecting some important phone calls,’ she said, thinking fast. ‘If I’m not here, people will worry.’
‘You can phone them.’
‘Well . . . yes.’
‘Put some things in a bag and come with me.’
‘No, Carlo, I can’t.’
His eyes flashed sudden danger. ‘Yes, Brigette, you can, and you will.’
‘Okay,’ she said, forming a plan. Once they were in the lobby she would be able to scream for help and escape from him. ‘If you really want me to.’
‘I do,’ he said, helping her off the bed. ‘I have to make this up to you, my angel.’
She grabbed her dress from the foot of the bed and slipped into it. The bastard must have taken it off her when she was out. She wondered what else he’d done . . .
She was desperate to peek in a mirror, see how damaged her face was. ‘I need to use the bathroom,’ she said.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No, Carlo. You wait outside.’
‘I don’t trust you, Brigette.’
‘Trust me to what?’ she said lightly, although inside she was shaking. Why did she always find herself in these impossible situations. Why? Why? Why?
Her legs felt weak as he escorted her to the bathroom. He came in with her and stood by the door, blocking the wall phone.
‘Go,’ he said. ‘Hurry.’
‘I don’t need to go now,’ she said, trying to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
He blocked her there too.
They returned to the bedroom. He went to the closet and flung it open.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, wondering if she could make a run for it.
No. Impossible. He was between her and the door, and she didn’t care to risk being beaten again.
‘You need something to cover you,’ he said, pulling out a long purple Armani scarf. ‘Put that over your head. Where are your sunglasses?’
‘It’s dark outside,’ she said.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Now, where are they?’
She pointed to a drawer. He opened it and found the opaque glasses.
Do something, a voice screamed in her head. Get the fuck away from him.
How can I? He’s got me trapped.
He searched through the closet, found her long raincoat and handed it to her. She put it on.
‘We’re leaving,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘Is there anything you wish to bring?’
She shook her head, no, thinking that the moment they hit the lobby she would be free. It wasn’t as if he had a gun on her or anything. And he could hardly beat her up in front of people.
He went to the door, opened it a few inches, and peered out. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘let’s go.’
The long corridor was empty.
Damn! She had hoped to see a maid or a room-service waiter, someone who could help her.
Carlo gripped her arm firmly as they headed for the elevators. When they got there, he bypassed them and headed through another door.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, starting to panic.
‘The service entrance,’ he said.
She stopped abruptly. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Take me back to my room.’
‘If that’s what you want, my angel.’
And then he socked her so hard on the jaw that once more she fell into a deep hole, and everything faded to black.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Lucky circled the party searc
hing for Venus and Cooper. People kept trying to stop her and talk but, over the years she’d spent in Hollywood in a position of power, she had become extremely adept at moving on. Lennie had vanished into the throng of guests, Maria holding tightly on to his hand. Steven and Carioca had gone with them.
An overly familiar hand on her shoulder. ‘What’s going on, Lucky?’
She spun around, coming face to face with Alex. ‘What’s going on with you, Alex?’ she retorted, not even sure if she was glad to see him because he was becoming a complication she didn’t need.
‘How was the rest of your weekend?’ he asked.
‘Pretty good,’ she said noncommittally. ‘And yours?’
‘It would have been better if—’
‘Now don’t start, Alex,’ she interrupted, giving him a warning look, for she knew exactly what he was about to say.
‘I take it the reconciliation went well.’
‘It wasn’t a reconciliation. We were only apart one night.’
‘Yeah, but that one night could be the start of something.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up.’
His eyes searched the room. ‘Where is the missing husband?’
‘He’s here. And the good news is he’s getting back to work.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Writing a script about violence,’ she said, extracting a cigarette from her purse.
‘Violence isn’t Lennie’s genre,’ Alex said, producing a light. ‘He’s known for comedy.’
‘Well, now he wants to write something more serious,’ she said, drawing deeply on her cigarette.
‘Really?’ Alex said, holding her eyes with a more than best-friends look.
‘Yes, really,’ she answered, wishing he wasn’t so damn attractive.
‘Let’s go to the bar,’ he suggested, taking her arm.
‘I was actually looking for Venus. Have you seen her?’
He gestured across the room. ‘She’s in the middle of those ten guys over there.’
‘Guess she’s enjoying that.’
‘I’m sure she is,’ Alex agreed.
‘Are you ever going to put her in another movie?’
‘If I find the right project.’
‘I know it’s what she wants. She loved working with you.’
‘Venus is a very underrated actress,’ he said, steering Lucky to the bar. ‘What’ll you have?’
‘Vodka martini.’
‘Make that two,’ he instructed the barman.
‘Didn’t figure you for a martini drinker,’ she remarked.
‘I’m not. But tequila always gets us in trouble, remember?’
He was determined to bring up the past, and she was equally determined to bury it. ‘No, I don’t,’ she said shortly.
The bartender expertly mixed their drinks and handed over two chilled martinis.
‘Did you give any thought to that discussion we had?’ Alex enquired, as he led her over to a quiet corner.
‘What discussion was that?’ she asked, sipping her drink.
‘The one about you producing.’
‘Haven’t had time to think about it,’ she lied, because she wasn’t about to tell him that Lennie had been less than enthusiastic.
‘How about the three of us working together?’ he suggested. ‘You, me and Venus? What a combination that’d be. We could really kick ass.’
‘You’re very persistent.’
‘That’s ’cause it’s not much fun seeing you out of work. You’re not the housewife type.’
She couldn’t help smiling. ‘You sound like Lennie. I had to make him a sandwich today because he informed me that’s what stay-at-home wives do.’
‘Bet you loved that.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You can imagine.’
‘I’ve got a couple of interesting things in development,’ Alex said. ‘How about I send you the scripts, see what you think?’
‘Are they good?’
‘No, Lucky,’ he deadpanned. ‘I only develop projects that stink.’
‘Okay,’ she said, laughing. Hey – if Lennie didn’t want to work with her, how could he possibly object to her doing something with Alex?
Only she knew that he would. No doubt on that score.
* * *
‘That’s Dahlia,’ Max said, nudging Lina, who was gobbling small toast squares loaded with caviar from the hors d’oeuvres table.
‘Where?’ Lina said, continuing to stuff her mouth.
‘Over there. The woman in the green dress.’
‘Oooh!’ Lina said, checking out a tall, thin woman in her forties with a sweep of long dark hair and prominent features. ‘Scary!’
‘She’s actually very nice,’ Max said. ‘If Charlie was smart, he’d marry her.’
‘And she’s, like, got no clue ’e fucks around?’
‘I’m sure she knows. But Dahlia’s a wise woman, she chooses to ignore it.’
‘What’s so wise about that?’ Lina asked, cramming more caviar into her mouth.
‘As long as no one threatens her territory, she’s happy.’
‘What’s ’er territory?’
‘The public Charlie,’ Max explained. ‘The one that goes to benefits, award ceremonies, industry events and sits at the top tables. Dahlia is always his date on those occasions.’
Damn! Lina thought. There goes my chance of being photographed with him. She’d envisaged walking into a première with Charlie, arm in arm, flashbulbs popping and everyone oohing and aahing. Her mum would’ve creamed over that.
‘Hold the eating for a minute,’ Max instructed. ‘My partner, Freddie Leon, is on his way over. Be nice. Freddie takes care of most of the major talent in this town.’
‘Am I supposed to be impressed?’
‘Yes. And do not come on to him. Freddie is very happily married.’
‘Sure,’ Lina snorted disbelievingly. ‘Aren’t they all!’
‘Hey there, Freddie,’ Max said, as his partner approached. ‘I want you to meet Lina, she’s with the agency.’
‘Hello, Lina,’ Freddie said. He was a poker-faced man with flat brown eyes and an expressionless demeanour.
‘Guess I’m with your better ’alf,’ Lina said cheerfully. ‘’Ope ’e’s as good as you.’
‘Max’ll look after you,’ Freddie said smoothly. ‘I hear we’ve got you into the new Charlie Dollar film. Congratulations.’
‘I’m not supposed to say anything until it’s signed.’
‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘We represent you.’
‘Oh, yes, so you do,’ she said, attempting a quick flirt.
Freddie was unresponsive. ‘Pleasure to meet you, Lina,’ he said, and quickly moved on.
‘He’s a cold one,’ Lina remarked, returning to the caviar.
‘That’s Freddie,’ Max said, with a glimmer of a smile. ‘There’s one thing you have to remember in this town. Never cross Freddie Leon.’
‘I wasn’t planning to. Oh, Christ!’ she said. ‘Look who’s comin’ our way now!’
‘Who?’
‘Flick Fonda.’
‘You know Flick?’ Max said, wondering who the legendary rock star’s agent was, and if Flick was stealable. ‘I’ve never met him. Introduce me.’
‘He’s with that boring wife of ’is,’ Lina said, pulling a disgusted face. ‘Quick, let’s make a run for it!’
‘Don’t be crazy,’ Max said. ‘It’s too late anyway.’
‘Hello, darlin’,’ Flick said, bearing down on them, looking suitably rock star-ish in sprayed-on leather pants and a floppy white shirt, diamond studs in both ears. ‘How ya doin’?’
‘Nice to see you, Flick,’ Lina said, giving him a perfunctory kiss on each cheek, leaving full lipstick imprints. ‘You know Max Steele, the agent? My agent, actually.’
‘Hello, Max,’ Flick said, bloodshot eyes checking out the room to see if there were any women he’d missed out on.
‘My pleasure, Flick,’ Max said, suddenly oozing bul
lshit agent charm. ‘I’m a big, big fan.’
‘Always happy to hear that,’ Flick said. ‘That’ll sell me a few more CDs, huh? This is my wife, Pamela. Pammy, say hello to everyone.’
Pamela stepped forward, an angry expression on her long-suffering face. Once a beauty, she was now suspicious of every woman her husband talked to, and considering he’d been to bed with most of them, her suspicions were usually justified.
‘Hi, Pam,’ Lina said, with a lackadaisical wave. ‘’Aven’t run into you in a while.’
‘I see you everywhere,’ Pamela retorted. ‘Aren’t you frightened of overexposure?’
‘Nah,’ Lina replied, tossing back her long black hair while giving Flick ‘the look’. ‘The more you give ’em, the more they want. Right, Flick?’
Flick, sensing trouble ahead, grabbed his wife’s hand and said, ‘C’mon, darlin’, I spy Rod and Rachel. Let’s go say hello.’
‘Nice dress,’ Pamela said, unable to resist a parting shot. ‘Left over from Mardi Gras?’
‘What a cow!’ Lina muttered, as the two of them moved off.
‘I see his wife is a fan,’ Max remarked.
‘Can’t win ’em all.’ Lina sniffed, once again returning her attention to the caviar.
* * *
Miss No Brains wore a dress that had to be seen to be believed. Price had wanted to be the envy of every man there, but the dress Krissie almost had on was ridiculous. The orange material was cut down to the cheeks of her ass in the back, plunged all the way to Cuba in the front, and up the sides were see-through zigzags revealing even more skin.
Price was embarrassed. She looked like she belonged on the cover of an X-rated video. ‘Krissie,’ he’d said, when he’d picked her up, ‘you wearing that?’
‘Price,’ she’d retorted, quite sassy for a dumb blonde, ‘you wearing that?’
Their evening did not get off to a great start.
As soon as they arrived at the party, Price found a corner couch, placed Krissie there with a drink and took off, assuring her he’d be right back. No way was he cruising around with her by his side.
Truth was, he hadn’t needed to bring a date, the party was full of glamorous women of all shapes and sizes. He even spotted supermodel Lina across the room – someone he definitely wanted to meet, although the dress she had on was another disaster. What was wrong with these women tonight? One big party and their clothes sense ricocheted out of control.