Deadly Embrace

  “What about her?” he asked, trying to sound disinterested.

  “She’s here in New York, and she called me.”

  “She did, huh?”

  “Yes. She wants to see you.”

  He took a deep breath, reached for a cigarette, and lit up. “Dani wants to see me?”

  “Yep. I promised I’d pass the message on. In case you’re interested, she’s staying at the Plaza.”

  “Nice of you to tell me, Tina. Only, aren’t you forgetting that I’m married now? So I don’t think I’ll be calling her.”

  “She said there’s something she has to talk to you about.”

  He inhaled deeply. “Did she say what?”

  “No, she asked me to tell you it’s important.”

  “Will you be seeing her?”

  “She might come over to the house with her son.”

  “At least you get to meet him.”

  “You mean you didn’t?”

  “No. That was one of our bones of contention. She didn’t want me meeting him,” he said, placing his cigarette in a marble ashtray. “I guess it’s one of the reasons she took off. Who knows? She’s my past, and I’m not planning on revisiting.”

  “Are we part of your past, Michael?” Tina asked, suddenly sounding needy.

  “No,” he said warmly. “You, Max, and the kids are always in my heart.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  “I can be a nice guy when I want to,” he joked.

  “We hear about you from Charlie. You’re Mr. Big Shot now.”

  “C’mon, Tina,” he said, embarrassed.

  “How’s Madison doing?”

  “She’s unbelievable,” he said, picking up his cigarette and taking another deep drag. “Eleven years old and the smartest kid you’ve ever come across.”

  “Is Stella a good mother to her?”

  “Stella’s a wonderful woman,” he said, exhaling smoke.

  “I’m sure,” Tina said sarcastically. “When she finds the time.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I read the society columns, Michael. Your wife is never home, she’s always out and about at some big opening or charity event.”

  “Stella gets off on doing good deeds.”

  “Sure.”

  “Anyway, Tina, we’ll get together soon. That’s a promise.”

  “Max would love to see you. Only, don’t tell him I told you, ’cause he’s bound to give you a hard time.”

  “I can take it.”

  “I know.”

  Thoughtfully he put down the phone. Dani Castle. Seven years of silence, and now she wanted to speak to him. What could she possibly want?

  In a way he was intrigued; on the other hand, he knew he shouldn’t go anywhere near her, because what would happen if he did? All they had to do was look into each other’s eyes and that was it. Chemistry. They had it in spades.

  Not anymore. He was married, it was a whole different ball game. Stella was Madison’s mother, and he wouldn’t mess with that.

  A beat of two, and he picked up the phone. “Get me the number of the Plaza,” he said to Marcie.

  Jesus Christ! Aren’t you even going to think about it?

  Apparently not.

  Marcie gave him the number. He wrote it on a pad on his desk and stared at it for a few minutes before picking up his private line.

  When the hotel operator answered, he requested Dani Castle. Even saying her name brought back a flood of memories, most of them good.

  “There’s nobody in the room at the present time,” the operator said. “Would you care to leave a message?”

  “I’ll try again later,” he said, replacing the receiver.

  Plain fact of life. He wanted to see her. He had to know why she’d dumped him.

  Not that he cared.

  Or did he?

  That night he and Stella were due to attend another boring opera. He simply wasn’t into her social scene anymore. At first it had been a kick, now it was plain work—and not the kind he enjoyed either. He wasn’t into her friends at all. The women were so thin they could slide through a crack in a wall. They were mean-spirited too—all they did was gossip about one another and try to outdo their best friend’s jewelry. He was well aware that the men looked down on him in spite of his success. He simply did not come from the right background.

  He called Stella at home, informing her that he wouldn’t be able to make the opera.

  “You have to,” she said, her voice frosty.

  “No, I don’t,” he answered evenly. “What I have to do is attend an urgent meeting.”

  “Oh God, Michael, this is so aggravating,” she said, sounding upset. “You know how I hate going to these things alone.”

  “Take your walker,” he said, mentioning a gay art dealer who sometimes stood in for him when he was unable to accompany her to functions.

  “Very well,” Stella said in an uptight voice. “I’ll do that.”

  He waited an hour before trying the Plaza again. Still no answer in the room.

  He had no intention of leaving his office until he reached her.

  Dani Castle. He’d never expected to hear from her again.

  “Well,” Tina said, throwing open the door of her house. “It’s only taken you seven years to get here.”

  Dani stood there smiling. “I encountered a few problems along the way,” she said, observing that Tina had put on about fifty pounds, but she was still as pretty as ever. “This is my son, Vincent,” she added, giving Vincent a little shove.

  He stepped forward, reluctantly shaking Tina’s hand. Lately he had not been getting along with his mother, finding her far too controlling. It had taken Nando’s visit to open his eyes.

  As soon as Tina got a look at him she did an immediate double take. “Oh . . . my . . . God!” she gasped, shooting a quick glance at Dani. “Now I know what you want to see Michael about.”

  Dani frowned, shutting her up. Tina got it.

  “What a lovely house,” Dani said, walking inside.

  “Yeah,” Tina said proudly. “Max did okay for us. He recently bought me a new Corvette. I figure the kids are so old that if I don’t get a Corvette now, I swear I’ll never get one.” She took another long look at Vincent. “How old are you, dear?”

  “Seventeen,” he answered, wondering who the hell this woman was and why they had to go see her.

  “You must meet my son, Harry. He’s sixteen,” Tina said. “Can’t believe I’m the mother of a teenager!”

  They all trooped into the large, comfortable living room. There were dogs, cats, oversize couches, books and magazines everywhere. It was a real home.

  “I made that call,” Tina said quietly. “The one you asked me to.”

  “Thanks,” Dani said, glancing at Vincent, who was prowling restlessly around the room.

  “So, uh . . . Vincent, is this your first trip to New York?” Tina asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “First time out of Vegas.”

  “Las Vegas is spectacular,” Tina raved. “Did your mom ever tell you about the time we went to see Elvis? I still remember it as the most exciting night of my life. And that includes my wedding night!”

  They all laughed.

  Harry slouched into the room. Overweight with an abundance of freckles, he had a permanent sneer and a fiendish sense of humor.

  “Say hello to Vincent,” Tina said cheerfully. “He’s from Las Vegas. And this is his mom, Dani.”

  “Hi,” Harry mumbled.

  “Maybe you can take Vincent upstairs and show him your room.”

  “My room,” Harry said, making a face. “Don’tcha mean my pigpen? That’s what you usually call it.”

  “Harry!” Tina said warningly. “We have company.”

  “All right, Mom,” Harry said. “C’mon,” he added, beckoning Vincent.

  A reluctant Vincent followed him upstairs.

  “Oh my Lord!” Tina said, turning to Dani. “He’s Michael’s son, isn’t
he?”

  “Is it so obvious?”

  “Obvious!” Tina said, her face all flushed. “For God’s sake! He’s the spitting image!”

  “I suppose he is.”

  “How come you never told Michael?” Tina asked excitedly. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Dani said, shaking her head.

  “And now you’re going to tell him?”

  “I finally decided it’s only fair.”

  “You do know Michael is married?”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” she said, experiencing a sharp stab of regret. “It doesn’t matter, though. This is strictly about him and Vincent.”

  “You broke Michael’s heart when you left him waiting at the airport,” Tina confided. “Can I ask what happened?”

  “I found out about Beth.”

  “Oh God!” Tina exclaimed. “I warned him that he should tell you.”

  “Unfortunately he didn’t,” Dani sighed. “And when I found out, it was quite a shock.”

  “He didn’t do it, you know,” Tina said quickly. “He was set up by certain lowlife people he was involved with. Y’see, Michael’s mom was shot in a robbery before he was born, and Beth’s murder was some kind of complicated revenge thing.”

  “I knew about his mother. I didn’t know about Beth.”

  “You should’ve called me. I would’ve explained everything.”

  “I didn’t think about doing that.”

  “Y’know, Michael’s a great guy,” Tina said earnestly. “He’d never hurt anyone. Ask Max, he’ll vouch for him.”

  “Too late now,” Dani said wryly.

  “Anyway,” Tina continued. “The problem is—how will you tell him? You can’t walk in with Vincent like you did here, he’ll know immediately. And I wouldn’t think his wife will take it too well.”

  “What’s his wife like?” Dani couldn’t help asking.

  “A major cold bitch!”

  “She is?”

  “Oh yeah. Nobody can figure out why he married her, except I suppose she is beautiful. The deal is he wanted a mom for Madison, and Stella’s it. Michael adores his little girl. He used to bring her over all the time, but now we never see them.”

  “How do you think I should handle this?”

  “Tell him straight. Say, ‘Listen, Michael—you’ve got a seventeen-year-old son.’ No point in dragging it out.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Does Vincent know?”

  “I haven’t got around to telling him yet.”

  “Wow, Dani. You’ve sure got a whole lot of explaining t’ do.”

  “I know,” she said, realizing how right Tina was.

  “Wish I could help.”

  “You can’t, although I appreciate the offer.”

  Later, back at the hotel, the phone rang. Dani quickly picked up.

  “This is Michael. Tina said you wanted to speak to me.”

  “Uh, yes, I do,” she said, glancing over at Vincent, who was busy flicking through TV channels with the remote.

  “So, I’m calling you. What is it?”

  He sounded cold and distant and angry. She didn’t blame him.

  “Can we meet?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Is that necessary?”

  “Actually, it is. I have something important to tell you.”

  “And you can’t tell me on the phone?” he said, not making it easy.

  “No.”

  “It’s ten of nine,” he said abruptly. “I can meet you in the bar of your hotel in fifteen minutes.”

  “I was thinking maybe dinner tomorrow night.”

  “At the bar in fifteen minutes, or forget it,” he said brusquely.

  “I’ll be there,” she said, understanding his anger but saddened by it all the same.

  “Where’re you going, Mom?” Vincent asked.

  “I have to meet an old friend downstairs in the bar,” she said, pulling out her favorite blue dress from the closet. It matched her eyes.

  “Then why’re you getting all dressed up?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t ask so many questions,” she said, choosing a pair of small gold earrings and clipping them to her earlobes. “Can’t I look nice to see an old friend?”

  “Yeah, but you’re, like, all nervous, spraying on perfume and shit.”

  “Don’t use language like that, Vincent,” she said sternly.

  “Mom,” he said, throwing her a disgusted look, “I’m seventeen. If I can’t use it at home, where can I use it—school?”

  “It’s not proper,” she said, fussing with her hair.

  “Nando says you keep too sharp a watch on me.”

  “Nando says that, does he?” she said, irritated.

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe it’s because Nando doesn’t have a mother to watch him. Could be he’s jealous, don’t you think?”

  “Nando jealous of me?” Vincent said, hooting with laughter. “No way.”

  “Anyway, why don’t you watch TV? I won’t be long.”

  “Great! We fly to New York, and I gotta sit in a hotel room watching TV, while you go out.”

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Nando’s offered me a trip to Colombia,” he said, knowing it would piss her off.

  “What?”

  “He’s sending me a ticket.”

  “If you think I’m letting you go to Colombia by yourself, you can think again.”

  “I’m going, Mom,” he said, challenging her. “You can’t stop me.”

  This was not the time to get into a fight. “Watch TV,” she said, grabbing her purse. “Don’t drive me crazy.”

  Vincent was right. Why was she getting all dressed up to see an old friend? Except Michael was more than an old friend—he was the love of her life, and he always would be.

  Still, she had to remember he was married, and she would respect that, even though Tina had called his wife a cold bitch.

  She checked out her appearance in the mirror one last time. Had she changed that much?

  No, she still looked the same.

  “Order whatever you want from room service,” she said, heading for the door.

  “Gee thanks, Mom,” he answered sarcastically.

  Michael took a cab from his office. He’d sent his car and driver home so that the man could drive Stella and her escort tonight. He didn’t mind taking cabs, in fact he quite enjoyed it. Having a car and driver was not his idea—it was Stella’s. “This is New York,” she’d pointed out. “It’s impossible to park, therefore we should have a driver.”

  Why not? All her friends did.

  He wondered what Dani wanted after all this time. In a way he was excited to see her, and in another way he would have been quite happy to have never heard from her again.

  Dani Castle. A vision from his past.

  When Dani entered the bar, men turned to stare. It was not unusual; she always had that effect on the male sex. Spotting a table in the corner, she went over and sat down. After a few minutes the waiter came to take her order.

  “A glass of white wine,” she said, realizing that her hands were shaking.

  Michael was late. Was he going to turn up? She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t.

  A beat of ten and a tall man with a beard hovered by her table. “May I buy the beautiful lady a drink?” he asked, the smell of his aftershave quite overpowering.

  “That’s very generous of you,” she said coolly. “However, I don’t think my husband would appreciate it.”

  “Whoa—sorry,” the man said, rapidly backing away.

  She tapped her fingers on the glass-top table, grabbed a handful of nuts, and nervously began stuffing them in her mouth.

  The waiter brought her wine. She took several gulps for courage. This was an impossible situation to be in. It was one thing telling Michael he had a son, but how was she going to tell Vincent—who was under the impression that Sam Froog was his father, a father he’d never seen much of, because o
nce Sam got the settlement money he’d vanished out of their lives.

  She glanced up, and there he was. Michael Castelli. Striding into the bar, looking more handsome than ever in a dark suit, white shirt, and pearl gray tie.

  God, he always had such an incredible effect on her. The very sight of him made her feel warm all over.

  His dark eyes surveyed the room until he spotted her. Then he walked toward her, threading his way purposefully through the tables until he reached her. “Dani,” he said, standing by her table.

  “Hi, Michael,” she answered.

  No physical contact, not even a handshake.

  He pulled up a chair and sat down. “What’re you drinking?”

  “White wine.”

  He clicked his fingers for the waiter, who hurried over. “Jack Daniel’s on the rocks,” he said. “And another glass of wine for the lady.”

  “Yes sir,” the waiter answered, responding to his authoritative manner.

  “So, Dani,” Michael said, slightly warmer than he was on the phone, but still cool all the same. “What brings you to New York?”

  “I’m here with my son,” she said. “We’re checking out college campuses.”

  “How is your son?” he asked politely.

  “Very well, thank you. And Madison?”

  “Great.”

  “She must be big.”

  “She’s eleven,” he said, taking a very obvious look at his watch—which she noticed was an expensive gold Rolex. “I’ve got fifteen minutes,” he said briskly. “Then I have to be somewhere.”

  “I thought that maybe we could spend the evening together,” she said tentatively. “Although I quite understand if you don’t want to.”

  “You understand, huh?” he said, his voice edgy.

  “Listen, Michael,” she said, speaking fast, “I know what I did was unforgivable, but you should have been honest with me.”

  “About what?”

  “Beth.”

  “Oh,” he said, suddenly deflated. “How did you find out about that?”

  “A friend of mine showed me the newspaper clippings.”

  “Some friend,” he muttered.

  “It was very upsetting to find out that way. I thought we were close, and I . . . I couldn’t risk flying to New York to be with a man I obviously didn’t know.”

  “And of course you couldn’t discuss it with me, call me up and say, ‘Hey, Michael—why the fuck didn’t you tell me?’ ”