The Santangelos

by Jackie Collins

  What was Billy Melina’s romantic crap all about? A tour of Rome at night. Throwing a coin in the fountain and making a wish. Long, lingering looks.

  I’ll call you tomorrow, Green Eyes.

  Sure. And I can sell you a condo in Alaska!

  She wasn’t mad at him for not calling or texting. She was mad at herself for believing he would.

  How naive. If Athena had taught her one thing, it was not to believe a word any man said. They’re all liars, Athena had assured her. The trick is to out-lie them.

  Or have fun with someone else, Max thought. And that’s exactly what she was doing, until Dante turned up on the yacht and ruined everything.

  Dante arrived on the second day of shooting the campaign. He immediately attempted to take control, ordering a change of outfits, demanding new locations, claiming he didn’t like her hair and that the photos weren’t sexy enough.

  Carlo argued that the photos were supposed to picture the Dolcezza girl as young and fresh. Dante retaliated by saying that she looked too innocent. They fought bitterly. Eventually Carlo got on the phone and summoned Natalia—who arrived hours later with six pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage and a superior smirk.

  Shooting stopped for the day, and Max seized the opportunity to take off with Ross. He got one of the stewards to fill in for him, then they ran from the yacht without anyone seeing them go. She was determined to push Billy out of her mind for once, and Ross was just the man to help out. He was a true Australian hunk with hard abs and a great body. She was definitely into his arresting accent and his stubbled chin. What was not to like? He was a Chris Hemsworth clone.

  “You wanna hit the beach?” he suggested. “Get a beer, chill out. You’ve been workin’ hard. Couldn’t stop eyeballin’ you.”

  “Really?” she said, flattered.

  “Yeah, really.”

  “So the beach it is,” she said, taking a deep breath.

  They headed for a nearby beach, where Ross suggested that they rent a pedal boat and take it out to sea.

  “I’m not a great swimmer,” she murmured.

  “No worries,” Ross said, grinning. “Promise I’ll save you.”

  “Promise?” she said, feeling the excitement that something was about to happen.

  The sea was calm, and Ross was doing all the pedaling, taking them a good distance from the shore.

  After a while he stopped pedaling and they rocked gently on the surface of the sea.

  “You do know you’re a beaut,” Ross said, leaning in for a kiss.

  She responded, playing tongue twisters, lost in the moment.

  Suddenly he was all hands, unclipping her bikini top, caressing her breasts with his manly hands, tweaking her nipples until she began gasping with pleasure. Then he took her hand and guided it to his very impressive hard-on.

  The moment of truth was upon her. Did she want to go all the way?

  Maybe. Billy was out there somewhere, no doubt screwing his movie-star ass off.

  Ross was busy maneuvering himself out of his shorts.

  Oh God! What was she supposed to do? She liked Ross, but just liking someone wasn’t enough to do the deed. And she doubted Ross had a condom stashed away.

  It was decision time.

  Without giving it any more thought, she began stroking his erect penis until he came with a long satisfied groan.

  “Jesus Christ!” he mumbled. “Bloody hell, where’d you learn to do that?”

  “Was it good?”

  “Bloody ace.”

  “We should get back,” she said, reaching for her bikini top.

  “Not until I’ve done somethin’ for you,” he said. “How about I go down on you?”

  “How about you owe me one?”

  “You’re somethin’ else.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  They grinned at each other, perfectly at ease. Then they headed for the shore, stopping for an ice cream on their way back to the yacht.

  Dante was waiting on deck with his usual dour expression. He promptly fired Ross on the spot, whereupon Max threw a fit. She couldn’t believe Dante could be so mean and nasty. She locked herself in her cabin and refused to come out.

  This was not turning out to be the spectacular job she’d envisioned.

  * * *

  Denver jumped out of the shower and grabbed her buzzing phone. It was Leon, telling her to get to the office as fast as possible. Apparently, Eric, the chief deputy, was ready to make a decision about Frankie Romano, and he wanted to see them both immediately.

  “I’m on my way,” she assured Leon, quickly throwing on her clothes, then tying her long wet hair back into a ponytail.

  No time for primping; this was too exciting.

  Racing downstairs, she immediately spotted Bobby at the kitchen table. “Damn it!” she muttered under her breath, for much as she was anxious to see him, the timing couldn’t be worse.

  “You’re home,” she gasped.

  “Yeah,” Bobby said, not getting up. “Looks like I am, and we need to talk.”

  “I know we do,” she said, hovering in the doorway. “Unfortunately, my job calls. It’ll have to wait until later.”

  Bobby stared at his girlfriend, his smart, beautiful, hardworking girlfriend—who apparently didn’t give a rat’s ass that he was back.

  “What do you mean, ‘later’?” he said abruptly.

  “I’ve been summoned to an emergency meeting at the office,” she explained. “They need me to be there like ten minutes ago.”

  “How about if I need you?” Bobby said, watching her closely. “Does that make any difference?”

  “Of course it does,” she said quickly. “And I dropped everything to fly to Chicago.”

  “Did you now?”

  “Yes, Bobby, I did. And I know we have to talk, which we will—only later.”

  “Jesus, Denver,” he said, not even angry anymore, merely disappointed. “Do you care at all about what I’ve been going through?”

  “Yes, Bobby,” she said, attempting to curb her impatience. “And I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  “That might not be soon enough,” he said, his tone tinged with a wry bitterness.

  “Please understand,” she begged, thinking that this conversation was going nowhere. “We’ll straighten everything out, I promise.”

  “It’s already straightened out, thanks to the people who actually care about me,” he said shortly.

  She had no idea what he was talking about, and right now the clock was ticking.

  She turned to leave.

  He didn’t try to stop her.

  It’ll all work out, she assured herself as she hurried out the front door. He’s angry now, but later I can get him to understand. I know he will.

  Bobby waited until he heard her car leave. His mind was buzzing with so many thoughts. He had things to take care of, and a girlfriend who was more interested in her job than in him. After his harrowing ordeal, it didn’t seem right. The doubts he’d been feeling about Denver were multiplying. She didn’t care about him. He’d seen it in Chicago when she’d accused him of wanting to get laid, and now he’d seen it again when she put her job first. He’d gotten nothing from her. No What’s happening? Are you all right? I’m so sorry about Gino. What can I do?

  This was not the girl he’d fallen in love with. This was not his Denver.

  He went upstairs, grabbed a suitcase, opened his closet, and began throwing his clothes into the open case.

  She could have the house. It was all hers. A good-bye present. He’d had enough.

  Lucky was right: if Denver didn’t believe him, there was no future for them.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Eddie was in a questioning mood. He required details about everything sexual that had taken place between Willow and Ralph Maestro. He wanted size, shape, technique, length of time.

  “You’re such a filthy old pervert,” Willow teased, secretly thrilled that he cared enough to be jealous. “What’s it t
o you anyway?”

  “Didja blow him?” Eddie asked, pacing around his office. “’Cause I dunno if I wanna put my cock someplace where Ralph Maestro’s been.”

  “Then don’t,” Willow responded, wondering what it would be like to be married to a man like Eddie, a powerful man with all the right contacts.

  “Whaddya mean, don’t?” Eddie said. He was already sporting a serious hard-on—quite obvious through his tailored custom-made pants.

  “I’m here on business,” Willow said, giving him her best serious expression. “Did you find us someone to rewrite Sam’s script?”

  “Did you come up with my money?”

  “You know I will. Alejandro’s promised I’ll get it tomorrow.”

  “Alejandro this, Alejandro that,” Eddie complained. “The dude’s a sleazy drug dealer. How d’you know you can trust him?”

  “I trust him because he wants this as much as I do,” she said tartly. “And for your information, he’s not a sleazy drug dealer. He runs a legitimate nightclub, and he’s always treated me like a princess.”

  “Yeah, that’s so he can be photographed with you,” Eddie sneered. “Don’t you get it? The dude’s a fame whore.”

  “And you’re not?” she said, throwing him a knowing look. “As far as I can tell, your whole agenting deal depends on kissing clients’ asses.”

  “I’ll be running a studio soon,” Eddie assured her. “When that happens, they’ll all be kissing my ass.”

  “And I’ll be starring in all your movies,” she said with a gleeful grin.

  “Let’s see what kinda talent you got before I make any promises,” Eddie said.

  “You know I’m talented,” Willow insisted. “You’ve seen me act. I’ve been in movies ever since I was a kid. I just gotta get another chance to show everyone in Hollywood what I can do.”

  “Yeah, babe,” Eddie said, unzipping his pants. “In the meantime, how about showing me what you can do?”

  “I’m not sure I should indulge you now that I’ve met your wife,” Willow said with a prim shrug. “She seems so … perfect.”

  “Perfect my ass,” Eddie snorted, dropping his pants around his ankles. “She’d have my balls for breakfast if she ever caught me. Anyway, she’s not going to, is she, sweet tits? ’Cause you an’ I, we got an understanding, right?”

  “We do?” Willow said, not sure what he meant.

  “Y’know we do,” Eddie responded, thrusting his penis toward her mouth. She dropped to her knees and took it in, deep-throating him the way she knew he liked.

  He groaned his pleasure, pressing both hands down hard on the top of her head, forcing himself even deeper into her mouth.

  Willow experienced a surge of power, something she felt whenever she had a man’s precious member in her mouth. Whoever the poor guy was, he imagined he was in control, but no, she was the one in control—she was the one with the sharp teeth who might easily ruin his life forever. One bite and it could all be over.

  Unable to hold back, Eddie came almost immediately. Hearing about Ralph and the things his wife’s movie-star father had done to Willow in bed had turned him on big-time, besides he had a meeting to get to, then dinner at Craig’s Restaurant with Annabelle and another power couple. No time to waste. Eddie was a big believer in getting things done fast.

  As soon as Eddie was finished, Willow hurried into his private bathroom, rinsed her mouth, fluffed out her hair, applied fresh lipstick, and returned to Eddie’s office, only to discover that he was already dressed. He was standing there with an impatient look on his face, which didn’t suit her at all. She was tired of Eddie making a run for it as soon as she’d finished blowing him. It was major dick behavior.

  “I gotta take off, sugar tits,” he said, adjusting his shirt collar. “Business calls.”

  “I’m sure it does,” she answered evenly. “That’s why we should discuss our project and what’s happening.”

  “Nothing to discuss until I see the cash,” Eddie responded, determined to make a fast getaway.

  “I’ve told you, the money will be here tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll talk. Same time. Same place.”

  Willow considered his attitude to be crap, but since he was her only real option, she couldn’t argue.

  On the way out of his office, she checked her phone. There was a voice mail from Ralph Maestro, her new admirer.

  Where’d you run off to, little lady? his voice boomed. Wanna take you to the premiere of my latest movie tomorrow night. Call me.

  Oh yes, she would call him, all right. Appearing on Ralph Maestro’s arm at a big important star-studded premiere would ensure maximum publicity. And right now she was soaking in all she could get.

  * * *

  By the time Rafael arrived back in L.A., he was exhausted. His flight had been bumpy and crowded, filled with crying babies and harassed flight attendants. He drank too much—something he didn’t usually do—and after downing several shots of vodka, he slept badly. Later he awoke with a massive hangover and a sour taste in his mouth.

  He was not the same Rafael who’d left L.A. twenty-four hours earlier. This Rafael was a bitter and disillusioned man whose thoughts of a future with Elizabetta and Rafael Junior had been well and truly shattered. Angrily, he kept on imagining Elizabetta in bed with one of Pablo’s hired men, experiencing all the things she should’ve been doing with him.

  Whore!

  Puta!

  He hated her.

  And yet … he had to control his hate, for she was in possession of his precious son, and the most important thing on his mind was getting the boy away from her.

  He had no more worries about Elizabetta seeing the sex tape Alejandro was holding over his head. Let Alejandro send it to her. What did he care? Elizabetta could watch him make love to a real woman. An American woman. A famous American woman.

  He got in his car, which he’d left in a parking structure at the airport, and checked his phone. There was a voice mail from Alejandro’s lawyer, Horace Bendon. It was short and to the point. “Your client fired me. You’d better get on it. I think Frankie’s about to make a deal.”

  Normally, Rafael would’ve panicked. Today he couldn’t have cared less.

  A plan was forming in his head. An excellent plan.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Finally, the call came that Lucky had been waiting for. “We’re releasing your father’s body,” Detective Allan informed her.

  She was overcome with a feeling of enormous relief mixed with a rush of pure sadness. “I’ll make immediate arrangements to send a plane,” she said.

  “You’d better do it fast,” Detective Allan warned. “Mrs. Santangelo is making noises that the body is hers. And since she’s his legal spouse—or was—”

  “I get it,” Lucky said, her sadness turning to anger that Paige would have the balls to try to take control. How dare she. Didn’t the bitch understand who she was dealing with?

  Apparently not.

  The moment she hung up on Detective Allan, she instructed Danny to get her a plane and to fast-track the funeral, which she’d quickly decided would take place in three days. Then she called Paige. They had not spoken since Lucky had left Palm Springs; there’d been no need to.

  “Paige,” she said, determined to keep her cool.

  “Hello, dear,” Paige said, sounding sassy and full of herself.

  “Just to let you know, I will be flying in to collect my father’s body later today.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Although I am aware that you were thinking of having the funeral in Vegas, I have decided that a funeral in Palm Springs is far more appropriate. All of Gino’s friends are here. I am making arrangements now. Naturally, you’ll be welcome to attend.”

  Was she kidding? “Welcome to attend.” What the fuck?

  “Uh, Paige,” Lucky said, attempting to remain calm, “I’m not quite sure that you understood me when I told you t
hat Gino will be put to rest and celebrated in Las Vegas. The family mausoleum is there, and that’s where he will end his days.”

  “Yes, I understood,” Paige said airily, as if anything Lucky had to say didn’t matter. “However, things change, and as Gino’s widow, I am the one who has the final decision about where he is laid to rest.”

  “Is that so?” Lucky said, her tone icy.

  “I should also inform you,” Paige continued, sounding even more sure of herself, “that my lawyer has told me that I have every legal right to do whatever I wish with my husband’s body.”

  Her lawyer. The bitch was bringing her lawyer to the table. Tough shit, because Lucky didn’t give a damn about her fucking lawyer.

  “I have a strong suspicion you’re not hearing me, Paige,” Lucky said. “So I do suggest that you listen carefully, because although I didn’t plan on bringing this up, sadly you leave me no choice.”

  “I knew you’d be upset, dear. It’s just that you simply have to realize that I—”

  “Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and listen,” Lucky interrupted.

  “No need for language,” Paige said with a testy sigh.

  “Jesus!” Lucky exclaimed. “Coming from you that’s a laugh.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Here’s the deal,” Lucky said. “How would you like me to post an extremely intimate series of photos of you online? How do you think that’ll go down with your friends at the country club? Gino Santangelo’s widow, naked, having sex with men and women. What do you think that’ll do to your reputation?”

  “You’re bluffing,” Paige said, her voice faltering. “There are no photos.”

  “Bluffing?” Lucky questioned. “You think? I’m a Santangelo, a true Santangelo. And we don’t bluff.”

  There was a long silence before Paige said in a low voice, “I cannot believe that you would actually stoop to blackmailing me. Gino always said that you had no morals, that—”

  “Don’t you dare talk about what Gino said about me,” Lucky exploded. “You got what you wanted out of your marriage to him, but now he’s gone, and as far as I’m concerned, so are you. Although naturally,” she added sarcastically, “you’ll be welcome to attend the funeral.”