Deadly Embrace

  “Holy shit!” Michael said. “This I gotta read!”

  “And,” she said, “I’d like you to note that my picture is included at the beginning of the magazine.”

  Two years ago, fresh out of college, she’d been discovered by Victor Simons, the editor of Manhattan Style. He’d seen a small piece she’d had published in Esquire about the still-rampant double standard between men and women. Victor had read it, liked it, and taken her out to lunch, where he’d encouraged her to get more experience and then come back to see him.

  “Why don’t you hire me now?” she’d asked boldly. “Grab me while you can.”

  “No, but one of these days I will,” he’d said.

  And true to his word, he had. She’d been working at Manhattan Style for several months, and this was her first big assignment with her own byline.

  “Sweetheart, this is great,” Michael said, studying the piece, a big smile spreading across his face. “Has Stella seen it?”

  “I haven’t shown her yet.”

  “Call and tell her. She’ll be excited.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Michael—when have you ever seen Stella excited?”

  Stella and Madison did not enjoy the warm and wonderful mother-daughter relationship he’d hoped for. Instead, things were somewhat strained between them.

  “You’re her daughter, Madison,” he said. “I’m telling you—she’ll be very happy for you.”

  “You show her. Take this copy home.”

  “How about we go out to dinner tonight and celebrate?” he suggested.

  “Can’t. I’ve got plans with the girls.”

  “What girls?”

  “Natalie’s in town from L.A. Jamie’s set something up, so I can’t let them down.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “One of the clubs. Why? You want to join us?”

  “I’ve had my club days,” he said ruefully.

  “Really? Well, I still think you’re the most handsome man around.”

  “And out of the mouths of daughters . . .”

  “Anyway,” she said happily, “I couldn’t wait to show you.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m glad you dropped by. I’m very proud.”

  As soon as Madison left his office, he instructed Marcie to call Vito Giovanni.

  “I’ve left messages for Mr. Giovanni three days in a row,” Marcie stated.

  “I know that, Marcie,” he said patiently. “That’s why we’ve got to keep trying.”

  “Perhaps he’s out of town.”

  “Who answers anyway?”

  “An answering machine,” Marcie said.

  “Okay, give it another shot.”

  He needed to talk to Vito about the two million dollars he’d invested for the old man. Over the years the money had almost doubled, and Vito had expressed no interest in how he was supposed to get it back.

  Michael didn’t feel comfortable holding the investments in his name. Even though he’d buried it and nobody could ever trace it to Vito, the fact remained that it was Vito’s money.

  Marcie tried again, once more getting the answering machine.

  “I’m going over there,” Michael decided, grabbing Manhattan Style and heading out the door. “Call my driver. Have him meet me outside.”

  Traveling down in the elevator, he began reading Madison’s profile on Henry Kissinger. Un-fucking-believable! His daughter, a published writer. A journalist, interviewing an important statesman in a big shot magazine. Jesus! What a thrill.

  Once he hit the street he called Dani in Vegas on his cell phone. He wanted to tell her to go out and buy the magazine.

  Sofia answered. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, chicken. Is your mom around?”

  “She’s out. When are you coming home, Daddy?”

  “Soon.”

  His other family. His secret family. Stella and Madison knew nothing about his second life in Las Vegas. And for now, that’s the way it had to be.

  Sometimes, even though he was married to Stella, he never really felt he knew her. Half the time she was suffering from migraine headaches, the other half she was out socializing, buying clothes and jewelry at an alarming rate. They rarely had any interaction together. In fact, they didn’t even make love anymore. He’d sold their New York apartment and bought a house in Connecticut to please her and maybe bring them closer together. It hadn’t worked.

  Every month he managed to spend a week in Vegas. Things were different with Dani. He always wanted to make love to Dani. If it hadn’t been for Madison he would have moved to Vegas a long time ago. However, Madison truly believed Stella was her mother, and even though he’d promised Dani that when the time came he’d leave Stella, he found it impossible to do so.

  He often imagined what Madison’s reaction would be if she ever discovered that she had a half brother and sister. She’d either be furious or delighted. There was no in-between with his feisty daughter.

  Lately he’d realized that Dani was becoming disillusioned with their arrangement. “You told me that when Madison went to college, you’d leave Stella,” she’d said the last time he’d seen her. “Then you told me that as soon as she got out of college, you’d leave. And now Madison’s graduated, has a job, and still you’re with Stella. I don’t understand it.”

  “I can’t explain it to you,” he’d said, trying his best to say the right thing. “It’s . . . difficult.”

  “What’s so difficult, Michael?” she’d answered heatedly. “I’ve been waiting for you all these years. I raised your family. We should be together.”

  “Why ruin something so good, sweetheart?”

  She’d glared at him. Wrong use of words.

  A housekeeper at the Giovanni house informed him that Mr. and Mrs. Giovanni were away on vacation in the Bahamas. He had to admire the old guy—nothing slowed Vito down, he was always up to something.

  It was becoming increasingly obvious that Vito didn’t care about his money. He must be so rich that it didn’t matter to him.

  “Tell Mr. G. I’ll be in contact when he returns.”

  Madison met Jamie and her other best girlfriend from college—Natalie—at a downtown club. Jamie was even more wistfully beautiful than ever in a white linen suit and Manolo heels. Natalie, short, curvaceous, and glowingly pretty, was in a sexy red dress, while Madison wore a slinky, pale beige Ralph Lauren suit, clouds of dark hair framing her oval face.

  “Hey, look at you,” Natalie said as Madison walked in. “Dressed for success.”

  “Is this my celebration dinner?” Madison asked, sitting down and grinning. “ ’Cause I am now officially a great big deal.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jamie said dismissively. “You’re a star.”

  “I flew in for tonight,” Natalie interjected. “So it better be a celebration!”

  Jamie had organized everything with her usual style. She was studying interior design, and with her father to finance her she was hoping to eventually open her own place. She’d recently gotten engaged to Peter, a handsome blond man. Everyone referred to them as the golden couple.

  Natalie was living in L.A. with her brother, Cole, trying to get a TV celebrity journalist career off the ground.

  Madison was the first one to achieve her dream. She was a published writer at a very prestigious magazine—a magazine that consistently outsold Esquire and Vanity Fair.

  “So,” Natalie asked, grabbing a handful of potato chips, “did you tell Michael?”

  “I showed him the article.”

  “And?” they both asked.

  “He was kind of psyched.”

  “I bet he was,” Jamie said, laughing. “Is he still as handsome as ever?”

  “Hmm . . . ,” Madison said with a knowing smile. “You always had a crush on Michael, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Jamie admitted. “However, now that I’m getting married, my crush will have to be a thing of the past.”

  “Are you inviting him to your wedding,” Madison inquired, “s
o he can admire the bride?”

  “Of course,” Jamie said, refusing to be teased. “I’ve known both your parents forever.”

  “How is the lovely Stella?” Natalie asked.

  “She spends most of her time in Connecticut,” Madison said. “And when she comes into the city, she’s either shopping or sick. I hardly ever see her.”

  “Then I guess things are the same as ever,” Jamie said.

  “I get off listening to you privileged kids discuss family shit,” Natalie said. “Me—I’m the one who had to struggle through college, working as a waitress and all that crap.”

  “You never worked as a waitress,” Jamie said jokingly. “You did one week in a hamburger joint and ran screaming to the hills when you broke a nail. You had so many boyfriends there wasn’t time for work.”

  “Now you’re making me sound like a hooker,” Natalie objected.

  “They were lining up outside the dorm,” Jamie giggled. “Seven little hard-ons all in a row!”

  “Yeah—and that was for you,” Natalie said succinctly.

  In college the three of them had been nicknamed the Beauty (Jamie), the Brain (Madison), and the Sexpot (Natalie). They’d been inseparable.

  Jamie ordered a bottle of Cristal. As soon as their glasses were filled, she lifted hers and toasted Madison. “How does it feel to be famous and successful?” she asked, tucking a strand of wheat blond hair behind her ears.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” Madison said, using one of her father’s favorite words.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” Natalie repeated. “Girl! I like it!”

  “So how was Dr. Henry Kissinger?” Jamie asked.

  “Very charming. And extremely clever.”

  “Can you please interview Denzel Washington next?” Natalie pleaded. “Or Sidney Poitier, my hero!”

  “Too old,” Jamie said.

  “Don’t you mean too hot?” Natalie contradicted. “That man has got it goin’ on!”

  “I’ll try,” Madison said, sipping her champagne. “Apparently he’s a hard get, doesn’t like doing interviews.”

  “So I’ll settle for Denzel,” Natalie sighed. “That man is sweet as molasses.”

  Later, at home in the small apartment Michael had bought her the day she graduated college, Madison propped the magazine up against the mirror in her bathroom.

  “Profiles in Power by Madison Castelli.”

  Life couldn’t get any better.

  Dani and Vincent—1995

  You look great in a hard hat, Mom,” Vincent said, mildly teasing her.

  “Excuse me?” Dani replied.

  “No, really,” he said, taking her arm and steering her around a fenced-off area. “It suits you.”

  “I can assure you that it’s not going to be my mode of dress every day. Only when I visit my son’s construction site.”

  “Can you believe it?” Vincent said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Our own hotel.”

  “I must say, much as I disapprove of Nando, the two of you deserve it. You’ve both worked hard to achieve this.”

  “You’re telling me,” Vincent agreed. “It’s taken two years to build, and when it’s finished—man, it’ll be worth all the stress and hard work.”

  “How much longer?” Dani asked.

  “I reckon another six months.”

  “Incredible,” she said. “And you do know I’m ready to help you in any way I can.”

  “Good, Mom. ’Cause I’m depending on you to sit down with the interior designer, see he doesn’t get carried away. You have great taste.”

  “It’s all in the finishing touches,” she said modestly. “I can help choose the paint colors and the fabrics. I want the rooms to be stylish and comfortable.”

  Vincent nodded. He wasn’t really concentrating. He had too much on his mind—so many details, and everything had to be perfect, there could be no mistakes. Nando and he were risking everything on the success of their hotel, which Nando had generously suggested should be called the Castle Hotel and Casino. “That name’s got a lucky feel to it,” Nando had said, displaying a refreshing lack of ego. Vincent felt the same way.

  A group of investors had put up the money to build the hotel, including Michael, who’d insisted that he be involved. Reluctantly Vincent had agreed to his father’s participation. If the hotel was a flop he would simply kill himself. There was no way he could let Michael down.

  “It’s exciting, huh?” he said as he walked Dani back to his car.

  “It would be even more exciting if you found yourself a nice girl and settled down,” she remarked.

  “What’s with the settling down?” he said, knowing that was the one thing he had no intention of doing. “I’m perfectly happy the way I am.”

  “I know you are, Vincent,” she said, wishing he’d listen to her. “But wouldn’t it be nice if you had a baby?”

  “Oh, c’mon, Mom,” he said, laughing. “You’re not the grandma type.”

  “I’d be a sensational baby-sitter.”

  He grinned at his beautiful mother and wondered how she’d managed all these years by herself. Michael’s visits were becoming less frequent, and he knew it upset her. He felt like he was the man of the family now, because Michael had this whole other life in New York.

  It was weird knowing that he had a half sister out there somewhere, a sister who, if Michael had his way, he’d never get to meet.

  His other sister, Sofia, was twelve. She was into Madonna, makeup, and lots of girly clothes. She already looked like a teenager, so Vincent was very aware that he had to keep a strong watch over her, especially since Michael wasn’t around to do so.

  “Inspection over,” Dani said, removing her hard hat and getting in his car. “Can we go to lunch?”

  “I always like buying my mom lunch,” Vincent said, settling behind the wheel. “She’s the hottest date in town.”

  “I wish,” Dani said wryly.

  “I remember when I was growing up. God! Every boy in school had the hots for you.”

  “Vincent!”

  “They did. And then one night someone’s parents spotted you in the show. The next day I was so embarrassed. It was all over school that my mom took her clothes off.”

  “Sorry if I embarrassed you,” she said dryly. “Don’t forget that taking off my clothes paid all our bills.”

  “Listen, Mom,” he said sincerely, “I know better than anyone how hard you worked, and the sacrifices you made.”

  “It didn’t seem like making sacrifices at the time.”

  “How come you never married Dean?” Vincent asked curiously. “He was always around. Still is.”

  “Because I don’t love him,” she said patiently. “I love Michael and I always will.”

  “Then why didn’t you and Michael get married?”

  “You know why, Vincent. I don’t have to explain.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. He has a wife and daughter in New York.”

  “That’s right,” Dani said, reluctant to discuss it.

  “So why the hell doesn’t he divorce her?” Vincent demanded.

  “I’m not complaining,” she said quietly.

  “Perhaps if you complained, he’d do it.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s what I want anymore. Lately we’ve been drifting apart. Michael doesn’t come here as much as he used to. I’d like him to see more of Sofia, but what can I do? I can’t force him to spend time with her.”

  “Don’t worry about Sofia,” Vincent said. “She’s a tough little cookie.”

  “I realize that,” Dani said. “Both of you have lots of your father in you.”

  “We’re not alike at all,” Vincent said quickly. “I’d never string a woman along the way he’s done with you.”

  “Well, you look alike. And I might point out that Michael has never strung me along. We have an arrangement, and I’m perfectly happy the way things are.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes, Vince
nt,” she said firmly. “I’ve never wanted for a thing. Michael pays all my bills, he bought me a lovely house, I get a new car every year. What more could any woman ask for?”

  “How about a man beside you to protect you? You deserve that, Mom.”

  She turned away so that he couldn’t see the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. Vincent meant well, but his words upset her.

  “I’m very excited about your hotel,” she said, gazing out the car window. “And I’m sure your father is too.”

  The following week Michael flew in. “I can only stay for a couple of days,” were the first words out of his mouth.

  “Then you’d better spend all your time with Sofia and Vincent,” Dani said. “They both miss you.”

  “I miss them, too.”

  “Vincent is dying to show you his hotel. It’s almost finished.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

  “Take it any way you want,” she said, tossing back her long blond hair.

  He obviously took it to heart, because he spent every minute with his two children, and when he departed, Dani realized it was the first time he’d come to Vegas and they had not made love.

  After he left she was depressed. Perhaps Dean had been right all these years. Was it possible that Michael was using her?

  She decided it was time to make some changes. Sofia was growing up fast, Vincent was long gone from the house—living in his own apartment—and it was prudent to start thinking about her future. She needed a career, something to do with her time. She could hardly go back to being a showgirl; she was too old, and besides, the idea did not appeal to her.

  Vincent had asked her to help with the design concept of the hotel, and that was interesting and fun. Maybe when that job was completed she could get into the PR side. She knew plenty about publicity and how to present things.

  Yes, that was it. She decided she’d ask Vincent and Nando if she could handle special events at the hotel.

  At least it would take her mind off Michael.

  Michael and Madison—2000

  One day Michael came home and discovered that Stella was gone. Just like that. The house in Connecticut was empty. Her clothes were gone. She’d emptied the safe of her jewelry. And that was it. No note. Nothing.