Deadly Embrace

  She’d given up worrying about Vincent. Michael had taught her that worrying did absolutely no good at all.

  Vincent was leading a bachelor’s dream life and he knew it. Girls, girls, girls. Blonds, brunettes, redheads. He had his pick.

  Unlike Nando, he did not care to indulge in sex with a different girl every night. He tried to be more discerning than that. Only it wasn’t easy; the girls who came into their restaurant and bar were begging for it. He and Nando were prizes. Score with one of them and it meant you were really a hot chick.

  Vincent liked girls. In fact, he loved them. But sometimes he yearned for a girl who wasn’t so damn available.

  Nando laughed at him when he tried to discuss it. “Take it when you can get it” was Nando’s philosophy.

  So he did, but not as much as Nando—who seemed to possess an alarmingly active libido. Two or three girls a night was not unusual.

  Vincent enjoyed the restaurant business—he ran a tight operation, while Nando was Mr. Personality, luring the prettiest girls and the guys with money to hang out at their place. Vincent preferred taking a backseat, although somehow he got to do all the work. Nando was into the music and the look and the minor details, while Vincent made sure the chef ordered wisely, the bartenders didn’t steal too much, the waiters kept a high standard, and the bills were paid on time.

  They both wanted more. Their dream was to build their own hotel and casino. And one of these days, Vincent was convinced they would achieve their dream.

  Michael and Madison—1987

  The hotel in Miami was big and luxurious. Michael had booked them into a suite. Naturally. He always did things in style.

  As soon as they arrived, Madison ran around inspecting everything, from the two huge marble bathrooms to the spacious, palm-bedecked terraces overlooking the ocean.

  “This is so wild,” she exclaimed. “Can we go down to the beach and take a walk along the shore?”

  “What’s so interesting about the beach?” Michael asked, enjoying her excitement.

  “I’ve never been to the ocean before.”

  “First time?”

  “You know it is, Michael.”

  This was his second trip to Miami. The first time had been when he’d visited Vinny. He hadn’t seen his father since, although he knew that Vinny was still living in the same place. He sent him a check every month, a check that was always cashed.

  “You go take a walk along the beach,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of calls to make.”

  “Oh no! Business!” Madison said, making a face. “You promised, no work.”

  “Only two calls, sweetheart, then we’ll have a wonderful dinner together. Just the two of us. You like lobster?”

  “Who doesn’t?” she said, already hungry.

  “So . . . will you be my date?”

  “You bet!”

  As soon as Madison left the suite, he called Dani. “How was the flight?” he asked.

  “Uneventful,” she replied, always delighted to hear his voice.

  “That’s my girl.”

  “Who—me, or Sofia?”

  He laughed. “Hey, look, after you’ve put Sofia down for the night, leave her with a baby-sitter and drop by the restaurant in my hotel. I’m having dinner with Madison. I’ll see you walk past—pretend you’re an old friend and ask you to join us. How does that sound?”

  “You don’t think Madison will suspect anything?”

  “What’s she gonna suspect?”

  “How would I know? She’s your daughter.”

  “Do it,” he ordered. “I’m not staying here without seeing you.”

  “And how will you cope if Sofia spots you on the beach tomorrow and runs over yelling, ‘Daddy, Daddy’?”

  He laughed. “That’s the reason I booked us in different hotels.”

  “Clever.”

  “So . . . later?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Michael? Michael Castelli?”

  Beautifully executed. He couldn’t have done it better himself.

  He stood up from the table. “Dani Castle, what a plea-sure to see you again.”

  Madison glanced up, green eyes on alert. Who was this beautiful blond woman talking to her father, interrupting them while they were trying to enjoy a quiet dinner for two?

  “Are you by yourself?”

  Shut up, Daddy, we do not need company.

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” Dani replied. “Business trip, you know.”

  “Then why don’t you sit down and join us?” Michael said, making it sound as if it had only just occurred to him. “This is my daughter, Madison. Say hi to Mrs. Castle, dear.”

  Dear? When had he ever called her “dear”? Damn! This woman appearing out of nowhere was a big pain in the butt.

  “Well . . . if you’re sure I’m not disturbing you,” Dani said, and sat down at the table.

  Shit! Madison thought. I cannot believe this woman has the temerity to sit down at our table, when I am having a private dinner with my father.

  Michael didn’t seem at all put out. Madison threw him a narrow-eyed glare—just to let him know that she was irritated.

  “Dani’s a friend of mine from Las Vegas,” Michael explained. “We’ve known each other for years.”

  “Oh,” Madison said, totally uninterested.

  “I’m in Miami for the jewelry show,” Dani offered.

  “Where’s your husband?” Madison asked bluntly. And why the hell isn’t he with you?

  “He, uh . . . doesn’t like to fly.”

  “I see,” Madison said—although she didn’t see at all. What was this rather glamorous woman doing traveling by herself when she should be at home with her husband? This was a big fat drag.

  “We’ve ordered lobster,” Michael said. “Would you like some?”

  “Actually, I haven’t eaten,” Dani said. “So that would be very nice. Lobster is my favorite.”

  Oh crap! She’s staying for dinner.

  “Are you a friend of my mom’s?” Madison asked rudely, suddenly feeling a little protective of Stella.

  “No, actually we’ve never met.”

  “Dani’s husband is a business associate of mine in Vegas,” Michael explained.

  “Have you ever been to Vegas?” Dani asked, all sweetness and big blue eyes.

  “Nope,” Madison said, shaking her head. “I never go anywhere except school, and summer camp, and home. Daddy and I came here for a weekend together, just the two of us. Didn’t we, Daddy?”

  Michael raised an eyebrow. Madison never called him Daddy, it was always Michael. Suddenly he was Daddy. He had a feeling she was marking her territory.

  “That’s right, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll take you to Vegas one of these days. It’s quite a place.”

  “I gotta go to the john,” Madison announced, abruptly standing up. “See ya.”

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Dani said, “I don’t think she likes me.”

  “What do you mean?” Michael replied. “She doesn’t know you. If she knew the real you, she’d love you.”

  “No, I mean I don’t think she likes me being here,” Dani said, sipping her wine. “Wasn’t this weekend supposed to be just you and her?”

  “It is me and her. I’m spending the whole weekend with her. I can see you once, can’t I?”

  “Is this the only time I get to see you?” she asked, leaning forward.

  “God! I love being with you,” he said, studying her face. “Right now I wish we were lying in bed, eating hamburgers, making love.”

  “In that order?” she asked, smiling.

  “No.” He grinned. “We’d make love first, then we’d order hamburgers.”

  “You’re funny, Michael,” she said warmly. “I love you so much.”

  “It’s the greatest when we’re together,” he said contentedly. “I feel no pressure. When I’m around Stella there’s always pressure. She’s got so much going on, what with her social events and all
that shit. She’s working on a hundred different agendas.”

  “You don’t have to stay with her, Michael,” Dani reminded him gently. “Madison is sixteen.”

  “I can’t tell Madison the truth,” he said, his tone hardening. “It’s not going to happen, Dani.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, instantly backing off. “No pressure from me.”

  “How’s Vincent doing?”

  “Surrounded by girls—as usual. They won’t leave him alone.”

  “That’s good.”

  “No, it’s not. I don’t want him knocking up some little bimbo.”

  “I knocked you up, didn’t I?”

  “That was different.”

  “Yeah, when it’s you and me it’s always different. Right?”

  She smiled. “Can I hold your hand under the table, Michael? Is that allowed?”

  “As long as it’s only my hand.”

  “Oooh—naughty, naughty.”

  “Hey—maybe when Madison’s asleep, I’ll slip out and come by your hotel.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. I definitely think so.”

  Madison made her way to the ladies’ room, where she studied her reflection in the mirror. Tall blond women always made her feel inadequate. Her mother was tall and blond. In fact, there was a slight resemblance between this Dani woman and her mom. Except Stella was more refined looking, not as glamorous as Dani Castle.

  Madison knew she looked like her father, with her dark skin, green eyes, and black hair. It didn’t thrill her. Why couldn’t she be more like Jamie? Jamie was quite gorgeous—boys always took notice of her.

  Madison had not experienced much success with boys. She was too smart. Besides, the boarding school she attended was girls only. So were the summer camps she went to. Therefore, she didn’t know much about boys—unlike Jamie, who, according to her, was constantly fighting them off.

  I’m sixteen, she thought. It’s about time I did something wild and exciting. I’m a woman, I should be fighting off gorgeous guys. Or not fighting them off—depending how I feel. I’m a writer, I need the experience.

  She splashed cold water on her face and applied a dab of lip gloss.

  I still look gawky and awkward, she thought. I look about fourteen. Fourteen and an inexperienced jerk.

  Maybe I should dye my hair blond, that would make boys notice me.

  She walked out of the ladies’ room and bumped straight into a man in a white suit, a man who closely resembled Michael Douglas. Only, unfortunately it wasn’t Michael Douglas, whom she’d just seen in Fatal Attraction and fallen madly in love with.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Not looking where you’re going, young lady?” the man said. He had sandy-colored hair and a deep suntan. Maybe there was a bit of Robert Redford mixed in with Michael Douglas.

  “I was thinking.”

  “And what would a beautiful young lady like you be thinking about that made you appear so earnest?”

  Wow! Is this older man actually coming on to me? This man, who is probably the same age as my dad. Wow!

  “Uh . . . I was thinking how nice it is here, and how I’m going to write about it.”

  “Are you a writer?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “I sometimes write for Rolling Stone. Bits and pieces, you know.”

  “I’m very impressed.”

  They stared at each other. This older man and this young, exotic-looking girl.

  “Is this your first trip to Miami?”

  “It certainly is, and I love it—well, what I’ve seen so far.”

  “I live in the penthouse,” he said. “It’s my permanent home.”

  “Cool.”

  “If I can show you around at all, just let me know. My name’s Frankie.”

  “Frankie,” she repeated.

  “Frankie Medina. And you are?”

  “Madison Castelli.”

  “Pretty name. Pretty girl.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Michael Douglas?” she blurted out.

  “Only better looking, I hope,” he said, smiling. He had nice teeth, capped probably, but nice all the same.

  “Of course,” she said quickly.

  “Yeah, I’ve been told that,” he said with a lazy grin. “Only, I’m not looking for a fatal attraction.”

  She laughed, having just seen the movie too. Glenn Close was a blond in it. She definitely had to change her hair color.

  “If you get lonely later,” Frankie Medina said, “give me a call.” And he handed her a little gold card with his name embossed in black and a phone number.

  “I might do that,” she said boldly.

  “You are very pretty,” he said.

  Oh my God! He is coming on to me. “I just washed my hair,” she said. Like, what a stupid thing to say.

  “What did you use—a magic shampoo that makes you even prettier?” She giggled. “Call me,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride in my Porsche.”

  Hmm. A penthouse and a Porsche. How very sexy.

  “What do you do?” she asked.

  “What do I do?” he repeated with a big smile. “I’m a playboy—what else?”

  At which point a gorgeous blond emerged from the ladies’ room—yes, another blond—and immediately clung possessively to his arm.

  “See ya,” Madison said, and quickly took off.

  Back at the table, Michael and Dani Castle seemed to be getting more than friendly. Madison could almost feel them move apart as she approached.

  “Where were you?” Michael asked. “I was gonna send out a hunting party.”

  “Guess what?” she said. “I bumped into an old friend, too.”

  “You did?” Michael said.

  “Yes,” she said, surreptitiously sliding Frankie Medina’s card into her purse.

  To Madison’s annoyance, Dani Castle hung around all through dinner. She ate lobster, she drank wine, she talked to Michael. Too bad! What could have been a wonderful dinner was ruined.

  As soon as they were finished, Madison excused herself. “I’m kind of tired,” she said. “Do you mind if I go upstairs?”

  “You sure, sweetheart?” Michael said.

  “I really am. I want to wake up early and hit the beach,” she said, getting up from the table. “ ’Night, Mrs. Castle.”

  “Good night, Madison,” Dani said warmly. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  Yeah, well, Madison thought, the pleasure is all yours.

  She walked away from the table and wandered outside. She was not tired at all, she was just tired of watching her father cozy up to the tall blond.

  The beach beckoned, so she decided to take a long walk, which she did, enjoying every second of the roaring ocean and the feel of the sand on her bare feet.

  When she arrived back at the hotel, it was quite late. Frankie Medina was standing in the lobby, resplendent in his white suit and deep suntan.

  “Hey—here comes that beautiful girl again,” he said. “The one with the lonely eyes.”

  “Do you think I have lonely eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  Hmm . . . Poetic too. A poetic playboy. Just what I feel like.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked.

  “I took a walk along the beach. It was great.”

  “I used to do that when I first moved here.”

  “Where did you move here from?”

  “You don’t wanna know.”

  “About that Porsche you were telling me about . . .”

  “Would you care to take a ride?”

  “Why not?”

  Now this was an adventure.

  His Porsche was low slung, black, and very sexy. It also featured a great sound system. He put on Frank Sinatra’s In the Wee Small Hours.

  “Don’t you have any Bon Jovi or Janet Jackson?” she asked, disappointed by his choice of music.

  “Listen and learn. Sinatra is the greatest.”

  He was rather sweet. Old, but swee
t.

  He zipped her around town in his Porsche, pointing out the sights, Sinatra crooning away.

  “You’re a regular tour guide,” she said, enjoying every moment.

  “How old are you, Madison?”

  “Eighteen,” she lied, like her father before her.

  “You’re a baby.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said indignantly. “Eighteen is hardly a baby. How old are you?”

  “Forty,” he lied, shaving off five years. “You want to come up and see my penthouse?”

  “Do I need my passport to get up there?”

  “Just bring your luscious self.”

  Luscious self. Wow!

  “What happened to that blond you were with earlier?” she asked.

  “They come and they go,” he said vaguely. “Interchangeable blond babes—I got a dozen of ’em.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you’re a playboy.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I am.”

  “Then maybe I should write about you,” she said archly. “ ‘Profile of a Playboy.’ What do you think?”

  “I think you’re cute.”

  “Thanks!”

  His penthouse was the most beautiful apartment she’d ever been in, far nicer than their place in New York, which she considered overdecorated and too antiquey—Stella’s taste. The penthouse featured an enormous living room furnished in white, modern, minimalist style. Vast walls of windows overlooking the ocean. And a fantasy bedroom with an oversized water bed covered in rose petals. It was the most glamorous place she’d ever seen.

  “What’s with the rose petals?” she asked as he gave her the tour.

  “They’re an aphrodisiac.”

  “Right,” she said, reminding herself to look up “aphrodisiac” in the dictionary, although she had a vague idea that it had something to do with sex.

  After sipping a glass of cold champagne with peaches floating in it, she turned to him and said, “When are you going to make a move on me?”

  “Eighteen’s a little young for me,” he answered, adjusting the sound on his stereo by remote.

  “Oh, c’mon,” she challenged. “You’re a playboy with a Porsche and a penthouse. You can make a move on me.”

  “I’d feel like a dirty old man.”