Dangerous Kiss

  Money. Oh, yeah, he’d almost forgotten: with Ginee, nothing was ever free.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Carlo gave Brigette what she needed, and after a while she felt ready to face the world. She changed her dress, touched up her makeup, piled her hair on top of her head, and after she’d done all that, they left for the party.

  ‘Now you look like my adorable Brigette,’ Carlo said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly as they walked outside to the waiting limo. ‘Come, my darling, you must be looking forward to showing me off to all your friends.’

  When he was nice it was almost as if she imagined his bad moods. She smiled dreamily. Everything was peaceful. Everything was good . . . except that soon she would have to face Lucky and, much as she loved her, in a way she was dreading it, because Lucky was the only person who could see right into the depths of her soul.

  You’re a big girl, a voice said in her head. Lucky doesn’t control you. You control your own destiny.

  No, another voice argued. Carlo controls everything you do. You are completely under his influence.

  ‘Carlo,’ she said, settling into the plush leather seat in the back of the limo.

  ‘Yes, my dear?’

  ‘I want you to promise me that you’ll be nice to Lucky. It’s important to me. She and Lennie, their kids and Gino are my only family.’

  ‘Brigette, Brigette,’ Carlo said, shaking his head in a pitying way. ‘I am your family now. You’ve told me how you were treated when you were growing up. You had a mother who was never around. Your father was long gone, and you were raised by a series of nannies. I am the one who will look after you now, Brigette. I am closest to you. This Lucky woman is nothing more than a friend.’

  ‘She’s my godmother, Carlo.’

  ‘That means nothing – trust me. She will see you are fine with me, and if she doesn’t,’ he gestured with his hands, ‘too bad.’

  ‘Promise you’ll be nice,’ Brigette said anxiously, dreading the evening ahead.

  ‘Of course, my contessa, I am nice to everyone.’ And he smiled his superior smile and patted her reassuringly on the knee.

  * * *

  Lennie finally put in an appearance. By the time he did, Lucky was simmering. First of all, Brigette was unforgivably late for her own party, and Lennie, leaving Lucky to cope with all the guests by herself, had infuriated her.

  ‘Nice of you to join us,’ she hissed, as he passed by. ‘Sure it’s not too much trouble?’

  ‘I’ve had it with you making all your own decisions without including me,’ he said, in a low, angry voice. ‘We’re married, in case you forgot.’

  ‘I told you, Lennie, I do not require permission to do what I want.’ And she turned her back on him and hurried over to the bar, where Gino was surrounded by an admiring group listening to him tell tales of his early days in Vegas.

  ‘Everyone having a good time?’ she asked, falsely cheerful. It was almost nine o’clock. The party had started at seven thirty. The caterers kept badgering her about what time she wanted them to serve dinner. Normally she would’ve had them start at nine, but since the guest of honour had not yet arrived, she instructed them to try to hold off.

  ‘Where’s Brigette?’ Gino demanded. ‘I’m waitin’ to see the kid.’

  ‘She’ll be here any minute,’ Lucky assured him, thinking that it wasn’t like Brigette to be so rude.

  Lina strolled over, hand in hand with Charlie Dollar. They looked like a couple.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ Lucky said. ‘What’s this? A new you two?’

  Charlie chuckled. ‘Do not tell Dahlia,’ he said, like a naughty little boy caught sneaking candy.

  ‘As if I would,’ Lucky said.

  ‘Lina’s in my movie,’ Charlie explained. ‘And she’s pretty damn sensational.’

  ‘Oooh!’ Lina squealed, thrilled. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t, doll.’

  Lucky shook her head. ‘Charlie, Charlie . . .’ she murmured.

  ‘Yes?’ he said, with a big, wide, shit-eating grin.

  She shook her head again. ‘Nothing.’ It was no use warning Charlie that Dahlia would not be pleased if he was photographed with Lina. Dahlia suffered the little unknowns who shared his bed for a night or two, but there was no way she’d accept Lina, who was far too high-profile.

  ‘So, where’s Brig?’ Lina asked. ‘I’m dyin’ t’ see ’er.’

  ‘You tell me,’ Lucky said.

  ‘Hmm . . . she’s not usually late,’ Lina said. ‘Did you tell ’er I was ’ere?’

  ‘No, you’re the big surprise.’

  ‘I think you’ll find Carlo is the big surprise,’ Lina said, rolling her eyes. ‘Can’t wait to see ’im again. He’s absolutely gorgeous, if you like that type, but I gotta feelin’ ’e’s a bit of a bastard. I dunno . . . you’d better form your own opinion.’

  ‘Oh, I will,’ Lucky said. ‘I certainly will.’

  * * *

  Steven’s partner, Jerry Myerson, was delighted to be in Los Angeles – even more delighted to be at a genuine Hollywood party filled with glamorous women. Recently divorced for the third time, Jerry was acting like a horny teenager let loose in the girls’ locker room. Steven was embarrassed: age did not slow good old Jerry down – he was after action with a vengeance.

  ‘Who’s that?’ he kept asking, every time an attractive woman walked by.

  ‘Hey, slow down,’ Steven said, thinking there was nothing worse than a fifty-something divorced man with a permanent hard-on. ‘You’ve got the rest of the night in front of you.’

  ‘Jesus!’ Jerry exclaimed. ‘How can you live here? The women are too fucking much.’

  ‘You get used to it,’ Steven said calmly.

  ‘Nothing fazes you, does it?’ Jerry said, winking at an over-endowed redhead. ‘But, then, pussy has never been your burning passion.’

  Steven threw him a cold look. He did not think it appropriate that Jerry was discussing women with him so soon after Mary Lou’s death.

  Carioca had run off to play with Maria. He wished she hadn’t, he would sooner have spent the evening with his daughter rather than talking about women with Jerry. Sure, Jerry was his friend and partner, but he didn’t need this crap.

  ‘Holy shit!’ Jerry exclaimed, eyes popping. ‘Now that’s what I call a sexy broad.’

  ‘You’re giving away your age,’ Steven remarked. ‘Broad is not a politically correct term any more.’

  ‘Who gives a shit?’ Jerry said. ‘Look at her – it’s that supermodel, Lina. What a body!’

  The name sounded vaguely familiar. Steven followed Jerry’s rapt gaze, and immediately recognized the girl Jerry was staring at. He’d met her at Venus’s party when he’d been standing outside the guest bathroom with Carioca.

  ‘Yes, that is Lina,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t tell me you fucking know her?’ Jerry asked, practically salivating.

  ‘Sure, I know her,’ Steven answered casually.

  ‘I think she’s with Charlie Dollar,’ Jerry said. ‘Jesus! You can’t turn around here without bumping into a star.’

  ‘That’s Hollywood for you,’ Steven said.

  ‘So if you know her, introduce me,’ Jerry said, gulping straight bourbon.

  ‘I’m not about to go over there and interrupt her.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Jerry said, smoothing back his reddish hair. ‘She’s on her way over here.’

  And before Jerry could say another word, Lina was upon them. ‘’Ello,’ she said, with a huge smile directed at Steven. ‘Fancy bumping into you again.’

  Jerry edged forward, dying to be introduced, while Lina gave Steven the famous Hollywood kiss on each cheek. She smelled exotic and womanly. For a moment Steven thought about Mary Lou and the way she’d smelled – sweet like spring flowers. It was a painful memory.

  Lina was obviously waiting for him to say something. ‘Uh . . . nice to see you again,’ he man
aged. Jerry gave him a sharp dig in the ribs, his somewhat bloodshot eyes begging for an introduction. ‘This is my friend and partner, Jerry Myerson, he’s visiting from New York.’

  ‘Hi, Jerry,’ Lina said, without much interest.

  ‘I’m a big fan,’ Jerry said, standing tall. ‘Big big fan.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lina said casually, barely looking at him.

  ‘Saw your photos in a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. My God, they were sensational. You’re the best.’

  Steven threw him a why-don’t-you-shut-up? look, but Jerry was on a roll and kept going. Steven moved away: he’d spotted Venus across the room and was anxious to talk to her.

  ‘You’re a bad boy, Steven,’ Venus scolded, when he came over. ‘You never answer my phone calls.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve been so busy at the office, then on weekends Carioca and I usually take off.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you’re spending more time with her,’ Venus said, licking her succulent bright red lips. ‘You should bring her over to spend the night with Chyna.’

  ‘Can we talk about Price Washington and his son?’

  ‘God!’ she said. ‘When Lucky told me the boy was involved, I was completely shocked.’

  ‘It’ll hit the news any moment,’ Steven said. ‘I don’t see how they can keep it quiet much longer.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, the tabs’ll go all the way with this one.’

  ‘Do you know his son?’

  ‘Met him once. Price brought him to one of my concerts. He seemed like a nice enough kid.’

  ‘Did he look like a gang member?’

  ‘A gang member? No, why would you say that?’

  ‘I’m confused. Lennie insists it was the girl who pulled the trigger, while the boy stood there watching. Which makes him an accessory. But what I’m hearing from Lucky is that the girl’s accusing him of doing the shooting.’

  ‘I feel sorry for Price,’ Venus said. ‘He’s a nice guy. This must be such a downer for him. Can you imagine?’

  ‘It might be bad for him,’ Steven said harshly, ‘but think about what happened to Mary Lou . . .’

  ‘I know, Steven,’ Venus said softly. ‘We all know.’

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The woman was young and voluptuous, perhaps in her mid-twenties, and although quite beautiful in a raw and natural way, she was cheaply dressed and nervous-looking. Hanging on to her hand was a five-year-old child – a boy – with dirty-blond hair and green eyes.

  The two of them hovered across the street from the valet parking area of Lucky and Lennie’s house at the beach. Nobody took any notice of them – if anybody had noticed them, they would have dismissed them as a couple of fans trying to get a glimpse of the parade of famous people arriving at the house in the Malibu Colony.

  The boy was tired and hungry, he kept indicating to his mother that he wanted a drink. She shushed him. She was tired and hungry herself, for it had been a long day and she had not expected to get to the house and find a big party in progress.

  They’d arrived that afternoon on a flight from Rome. Neither of them had ever been on a plane before, and the boy had been sick, throwing up all over her dress. She’d cleaned up as well as she could, but she knew she was not looking her best.

  It had taken a while to get through Customs, until eventually she’d convinced the official sitting behind his high desk that they were staying with her aunt in Bel Air and would only be in the country for a few weeks.

  He’d nodded and stamped their passports, imagining what it would be like to make love to such an earthy-looking woman. Her smouldering eyes alone would keep him happy for the rest of the day.

  She’d felt lost at the airport – it was so big and crowded and noisy. Her son had clung to her leg while she’d tried to discover how they could get to a place called Malibu. She’d had no idea if it was near or far. Fortunately, her English was passable and her looks so appealing that she was able to find out the cheapest way to get there by asking around.

  A friendly black porter had given them a lift into the city, dropping them off on Wilshire. From there they’d got on a bus to Santa Monica.

  Once off the bus, she’d stopped at a fast-food place and bought a hamburger, which she and her son had shared, then they’d got on another bus, which took them along the Pacific Coast Highway.

  As the bus progressed, she’d gazed out of the window, filled with wonderment at the odd array of houses lining the edge of the ocean and the tall cliffs towering over the other side of the road. Her stomach was churning with the daring of this adventure she had embarked on – an adventure she had dreamed about for five years.

  America. She was in America.

  The thought made her weak with excitement.

  Chapter Sixty

  ‘Hi, Lucky,’ Brigette said, finally arriving at the house.

  ‘And about time too!’ Lucky exclaimed. ‘I was beginning to think you’d flown back to Europe!’

  It was meant as a joke, but Brigette didn’t seem to get it. Neither did she apologize for arriving so late, which pissed Lucky off.

  ‘This is my husband, Carlo,’ Brigette said, her normally exuberant tone strangely flat.

  ‘Where’s my hug?’ Lucky said, sussing out the situation. She’d immediately observed that Brigette was thin and jumpy, with blank eyes and a slack expression, whereas Carlo, a tall, good-looking man with arrogant features and long, blondish hair, was glowing with health.

  Brigette gave her a perfunctory hug.

  You’re too damn skinny, Lucky immediately wanted to say. But she didn’t, since obviously this was neither the time nor the place. ‘Nice to meet you, Carlo,’ she said, with a pleasant smile. ‘We’ve all been looking forward to this.’

  He took her hand, brought it to his lips and gave it one of those barely there kisses.

  A bullshit artist, she thought. I can recognize ’em a mile off. A bullshit artist, wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit and a twenty-thousand-dollar Patek Philippe watch. Damn! He was spending pretty good.

  ‘Where’s Bobby?’ Brigette asked.

  Lucky took another close look at her goddaughter. The once vivacious and adorable Brigette was a shadow of her former self. Something was definitely not right.

  ‘He’s gone to see your mutual relatives in Greece,’ she said. ‘Something you might think about doing in the future.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Brigette said vaguely.

  ‘We have no plans to visit Greece,’ Carlo said.

  Who asked you? Lucky thought, as she looked around for Lennie. Where was he now? She couldn’t wait to get his take on the situation.

  ‘So,’ she said cheerily, ‘what’s with the sneaking off and getting married bit? You know we would have given you a sensational wedding. Everyone’s disappointed.’

  ‘Brigette and I did not require one of those lavish Hollywood weddings,’ Carlo said, with a touch of disdain. ‘We preferred to be married at the palace. It has been in my family for hundreds of years.’

  ‘How nice,’ Lucky said, with an edge. ‘If we’d known, we would’ve flown over.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Brigette said, a touch sheepishly. ‘We didn’t plan it . . . we just did it.’

  ‘And what exactly is it that you do, Carlo?’ Lucky asked.

  ‘Investments,’ he replied, staring at the exotically beautiful dark-haired woman with the dangerous black eyes. She was not to be charmed, he knew that instinctively. He had to tread carefully with this one.

  ‘Sounds interesting,’ Lucky said, deciding that he was an arrogant prick.

  ‘It is,’ he replied.

  By the time Lennie came over, there was simmering animosity in the air. ‘Lennie, meet Carlo, Brigette’s husband,’ Lucky said.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Lennie said, sweeping Brigette up in a big bear hug. ‘How’s my favourite golden girl?’

  ‘Married.’ She giggled, feeling somewhat light-headed.

  ‘Oh, yeah, we know that,’ he said, with an affectio
nate grin.

  ‘Where’s Maria and little Gino?’ she enquired.

  ‘They’ve gone to bed,’ Lucky said, ‘but Steven’s around somewhere. And I know big Gino is longing to see you, so why don’t we go find him?’

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ Brigette said to Carlo.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said quickly.

  ‘I think she’s safe with me,’ Lucky interrupted, leading Brigette away from her husband. ‘So,’ she said, as soon as they were out of earshot, ‘how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine, Lucky. I told you on the phone.’

  ‘You look a little pale to me.’

  ‘I do?’ Brigette said, filled with guilt, because if Lucky knew the real truth . . .

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘Too much travelling,’ Brigette explained. ‘I have major jet lag. It’s a killer.’

  ‘How about just you and I have lunch tomorrow?’ Lucky suggested. ‘That way we’ll get to talk.’

  ‘We can talk now.’

  ‘Not with your husband hovering a foot away,’ Lucky said. ‘I know what Italian men are like – possessive isn’t the word for it!’

  ‘Carlo’s not possessive,’ Brigette said, springing to his defence.

  ‘Oh, yes, he is,’ Lucky said. ‘I can tell.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ Brigette repeated.

  ‘Ah, there’s Gino,’ Lucky said, refusing to argue with her goddaughter. ‘Eighty-seven and still kicking butt.’

  Gino jumped to his feet as they approached. ‘Hey, kiddo!’ he said to Brigette, tapping his cheek for a kiss. ‘You went an’ got yourself married, huh? An’ I was lookin’ forward to bein’ best man.’

  Brigette kissed him on both cheeks, she’d always had special feelings for Gino. ‘You’re my best man anyway,’ she said, adding a warm hug.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, sure,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Betcha say that to all the guys.’

  ‘Of course I don’t.’

  Suddenly Lina crept up behind Brigette, placing her hands over Brigette’s eyes. ‘Surprise!’ she yelled.