“But Alex—”
“Ling. I am perfectly capable of going to the suite by myself.”
“Very well,” she said, giving him the pissy look he couldn’t stand.
“Where’s Lucky?” he asked.
“Why?” Ling sniped. “You wish her to go with you?”
“Oh, for chrissakes!” he snapped. “Get over this thing you have against Lucky. I merely need to ask her how the fuck I get out of here without doing that red-carpet press shit.”
“I’m sure someone else can help you with that,” Ling said. “It doesn’t always have to be Lucky.” She paused, glared at him, then added, “Or maybe it does.”
“Piss off, Ling,” he said, stalking away from her.
* * *
“Gino Santangelo,” Francesca crowed, wrinkling her forehead. “So many years, so much time. Surely you remember me?”
Peering at the old woman, Gino realized there was something vaguely familiar about her. “Sorry…” he muttered. “You’re gonna havta remind me.”
“Francesca Bonnatti,” she said, tilting her chin. “And this my grandson Anthony Bonar.”
Gino felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Of course, Enzio’s wife, and now widow. What the hell was she doing at the opening of Lucky’s hotel? And he’d never heard of Enzio having a grandson named Anthony.
Why was Francesca here? And even more important—what did she want?
“Long time, Gino,” she said, her eyes vindictive and glittering with hate. “Long time—much water under the bridge, sí?”
He had nothing to say to her.
“And your daughter, Lucky, she the one built this hotel, sí?”
Gino’s mind started racing. His onetime partner and Lucky’s godfather, Enzio Bonnatti, had arranged for the murder of his wife and son, and in retaliation Lucky had shot Enzio.
Francesca and he were both well aware of these past events. They were two families pitched against each other forever. Two endless vendettas. The Santangelos and the Bonnattis. They hated each other.
Now Francesca was standing in front of him as if nothing had happened in their dark and ominous past.
“You and me,” Francesca mused. “We go back molti years, Gino.”
“What do you want?” he said guardedly. “What are you doing here?”
“I come to see.”
“See what?”
“To see the end of the Santangelos,” Francesca said with a hoarse cackle. “You and your family are cursed—maledetto. This hotel is maledetto. May the ghost of—”
“Grandma, we gotta go,” Anthony interrupted, pulling her by the arm, refusing to even look at Gino.
Gino’s black eyes checked out Anthony Bonar. The man was not good news, he sensed it immediately. Gino had always possessed dead-on instincts when it came to summing people up, and this one was a bad human being, he had no doubt of it.
What the hell are the two of them doing here? he thought for the second time.
Whatever the reason, it wasn’t good.
He should warn Lucky. Francesca Bonnatti and Anthony Bonar were unwelcome guests. It was obvious that as far as the Bonnattis were concerned, the Bonnatti/Santangelo vendetta was still very much alive.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
“Hi,” Ace said as Cookie opened the door to their room.
“Hey,” Cookie responded.
“Uh, is she around?” Ace asked, hovering in the doorway.
“Is who around?” Cookie asked, thinking that Max had found herself a real hottie, this dude was majorly handsome.
“The queen of England,” Ace deadpanned.
“Oh, you must mean Max.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly who I mean. I was supposed to pick her up and here I am. I put on a white shirt for the occasion. I feel like an idiot. Does it look okay?”
“It’s totally happenin’, dude, but I thought you were meeting her outside the spa.”
“Why would I be meeting her there? I arranged to pick her up here.”
“You left a message half an hour ago that she should meet you outside the spa,” Cookie said, wondering how he liked the skimpy purple dress she’d decided to wear.
“I didn’t leave a message,” Ace said.
“Yeah, the guy at the desk called and said her cousin wanted her to meet him.”
“Did you say ‘cousin’?” he said, getting concerned.
“Yeah. Max explained that you were playing some game pretending to be her cousin.”
“Fuck!”
“Wassamatter?”
“This is bad,” he said. “It could be that maniac.”
“What maniac?” Cookie asked, her eyes widening.
“The dude who kidnapped her in Big Bear.”
“Whaaat?”
“Yeah,” he said urgently. “Let’s go. We gotta find her before he does.”
* * *
“I have to talk to you,” Venus said, cornering Lucky. “Alone. Now.”
Excusing herself from Cole and his rock star boyfriend, Lucky concentrated on Venus. “What’s on your mind?” she asked. “What’s with the ‘alone’ and ‘now’ bit?”
“We’re getting married,” Venus confided, somewhat breathlessly.
“Excuse me?” Lucky responded with a look of surprise. “Did I just hear you say the M word? I mean, isn’t that the word you swore you’d never use again after Cooper?”
“Yup,” Venus confessed. “You’re right. But Billy finally asked me.”
“I don’t believe this!” Lucky exclaimed.
“Believe it,” Venus responded.
“Is it what you want?” Lucky asked.
“I think so.”
“You think so?” Lucky said, shaking her head. “You’d better be sure.”
“Well, I’ve said yes, so it’s too late to not be sure.”
“Man!” Lucky grumbled. “Like I don’t have enough going on, now I’ve got a wedding to plan. When we get back we’ll—”
“No!” Venus interrupted. “You don’t understand. We’re doing it tonight, after the concert. So if you’re planning anything, you’d better do it fast!”
* * *
“Mr. Dollar,” Emmanuelle said, sidling close to the famous movie star, thrusting out her considerable assets. “I’m your biggest fan.”
Charlie Dollar checked the young blonde out. She was certainly succulent, and he was certainly into succulent. Young too. Yes, this one was just his type.
“Hi, there, chickadee,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Emmanuelle,” she answered, reaching up to touch one of her recently acquired diamond earrings.
“Oh,” Charlie said with a knowing chuckle. “Like one of those dirty movies from the seventies.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You wouldn’t. Too young. Are you even legal?”
“I’m twenty, and I’ve been on sixteen magazine covers,” she boasted.
“No shit?”
“Sixteen covers,” she said proudly. “But I bet you’ve been on more than that.”
“Well, little lady,” he drawled, “I’m mucho older than twenty.”
“I just wanted to say how much I admire you,” she gushed.
“That’s very smart, young lady,” he said, scratching his stubbled chin.
“I’m here with somebody tonight,” Emmanuelle continued. “But I was wondering if you’d give me your number so that when I come to L.A. I can call you.”
“You’re with somebody tonight, huh?” he said, peering at her over the tops of his tinted shades.
“That’s right.”
“A guy?”
“I’m not a lesbian, Mr. Dollar,” she said coyly.
“Shame.”
“Excuse me?” she said, toying with her necklace nestled cozily in her cleavage.
“Uh … nothin’. Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Somewhere around. I’m sure he’ll find me in a minute.”
; “Then what’s he gonna do, beat my ass?”
“He might,” she giggled. “He is kind of the jealous type.”
“Why is it that you jailbait little hussies always manage to target Charlie?” he complained. “You got any clue how many times I’ve had one of you poptarts come on to me, an’ then some asshole boyfriend or husband appears ready to beat the shit outta me?”
“No,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes.
“It happens, sugar-tits, so here’s my suggestion—take your pretty little ass an’ go peddle the goods elsewhere.”
He walked away, leaving Emmanuelle nonplussed.
Irma and The Grill standing nearby observed the entire scene.
Irma felt a tiny frisson of satisfaction. Anthony was going to get what he deserved from this one.
* * *
“I should leave,” Venus sighed, holding Billy’s hand. “I need time by myself before my show. I have kind of a ritual I put myself through.”
“I understand that you want to be alone,” Billy said, “but you’re not changing your mind, are you? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
“Now why would you think that?” she said softly. “I’m as excited as you are.”
“Just checking,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I know it’s sudden and all, but we’re doing the right thing—I’m sure of it.”
“So am I, baby, otherwise I wouldn’t’ve said yes.”
“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “After the show we’re gonna do it, an’ we’re not telling anyone except Lucky and Lennie, right?”
“Lucky’s promised to get it all organized. All she’s asked is that we wait until after the fireworks display. Then we show up at the chapel, and voilà!”
“Sounds perfect.”
“What about Kev?”
“What about him?”
“He’s your best friend. Surely he’ll be hurt if he’s not included.”
“Since when did you care about Kev’s feelings?” Billy said, thinking that the last person he planned on telling was Kev—who’d immediately share the news with Ali, and Ali was the kind of girl who would most likely alert the media and maybe even sell her story about her afternoon of sex in the pool with Billy Melina, movie star.
Oh shit! Why had he ever banged her? Shit! Shit! Shit!
“I don’t hate Kev,” Venus explained. “I think he always resented me for taking you away from him.”
“You’re wrong, babe.”
“No I’m not. So here’s what I think we should do.”
“What?”
“Make a new start and invite him.”
“No!” Billy said sharply. “He didn’t invite me to his wedding.”
“Don’t be so petty,” she chided. “That’s not like you, Billy.”
“I do not want him there, baby. Okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
“Hey, I kinda like it when you’re subservient.”
“And I like you,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I like you so much I’m even marrying you.”
“That’s right, we’re getting married, babe, so I think you can use the L word.”
* * *
The spa was located in a separate building near the main swimming pool at the back of the hotel. The setting was idyllic—fountains and exotic fish ponds surrounded by lush greenery and tall palms. Since the spa did not open until the following day, and with everyone’s attention focused on the reception and concert, the area around the spa was quite deserted.
Max, who’d thoroughly explored the hotel earlier with Ace, raced to meet him. She felt comfortable and excited in his company. Once again she marveled at how different he was from the kids she’d grown up with in Malibu and Beverly Hills, her so-called peers—all with rich, famous, or powerful parents. Cookie and Harry were the only two she’d bonded with. They were different, and so was Ace—he didn’t have that rich-kid vibe, he was genuine and nice and most of all HOT!
Just thinking about him made her shiver with the anticipation of seeing him. Was it possible to have a relationship with someone who didn’t live in L.A.?
Yes! Yes! Yes! They could drive to see each other on alternate weekends. One weekend she’d go to Big Bear, the next he’d drive to L.A. It was a workable situation.
Then it occurred to her that she was getting way ahead of herself, since Ace hadn’t even kissed her. Hmm … she definitely had to do something about that.
And just as she was thinking he was late, a figure began walking toward her, and to her utmost horror she realized it was the Internet Freak himself.
For a moment she froze. Then she turned to run.
“Wait!” he yelled, leaping toward her. “Maria, wait! It’s me. I’ve come back for you. Please wait!”
* * *
Reaching in her purse for a Kleenex, Irma discovered that she still had Oliver Stanton’s card. She stared at it for a moment, studying the numbers. What if she called him? And in exchange for information about Anthony’s drug dealings asked him to rescue her? It was a thought. A very welcome thought.
She had plenty of information about Anthony’s drug activities. He’d taken her to Colombia on more than one occasion, and she knew some of the names of the people he dealt with. She’d also witnessed many of his late-night business transactions in Acapulco.
Yes, she knew more than enough. But how to get to a phone, that was the problem.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she informed The Grill.
“You wait,” the big man said, glowering.
“I can’t wait,” she said sharply. “I need to go now.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Reluctantly The Grill escorted her to the ladies’ room, where he stationed himself outside.
The moment she got inside the restroom, she quickly looked around to see who else was in there.
A redheaded woman was standing at the sink washing her hands.
“Excuse me,” Irma said, approaching her. “Would you happen to have a cell phone I can use? I left mine at home and it’s kind of urgent.”
“I don’t, dear,” the woman said, drying her hands. “Damn thing wouldn’t fit in my purse. My friend might have one, though.”
“Where’s your friend?”
“Making a tinkle.”
Irma stared at the closed stall door, willing the woman’s friend to emerge.
“Are you all right?” the redheaded woman asked. “You look awfully pale.”
No, I am not all right. Earlier today I watched my husband cut off my lover’s balls in front of me. And now my insane husband is threatening to kill me and my parents.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she managed. “But I do need to make this call, it’s very urgent.”
“We should go outside,” the woman suggested. “I’m sure my husband has his phone.”
Before she could think of an excuse, the other woman, a petite brunette, emerged from one of the stalls.
“Ah, Doreen,” the redhead said. “Do you have your phone on you?”
“Yes, why?” Doreen asked.
“I promised this lady she could use it. She has to make a quick call.”
“The battery might be low,” Doreen said, reaching into her purse. “I’m always forgetting to charge it.” She handed Irma a pink sequined phone.
Irma pulled out Oliver’s card and squinted at the numbers again. Office. Home. Cell.
She chose cell and quickly punched out the number, moving away from the two women who were now chatting about the reception and how much they were enjoying it.
Her hands were trembling, any moment now Anthony might return and come busting in.
She misdialed, tried again, and finally the number rang.
Please God, let Oliver pick up.
Please God, let him answer.
“Hello?”
“Oliver,” she gasped. “It’s Irma. I need your help.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
The recep
tion was winding down. A series of assistant P.R.’s were attempting to usher the most famous guests to the red carpet pathway where they would be photographed and interviewed by the many photographers and TV crews as they made their way to the lingerie show.
Lucky was swamped, what with everyone attempting to speak to her, members of her staff giving her a series of updates, Gino trying to attract her attention, and now a wedding to get together in a matter of hours.
She elicited the help of Mooney, who knew everyone in Vegas, to arrange the wedding chapel and keep everything quiet. If the news of Venus and Billy’s impending nuptials got out to the press, it would be chaos.
Next she spoke to her catering and entertainment directors about organizing a small, extremely exclusive private reception in her penthouse later that night.
“A very close friend of mine is getting married,” she informed them, revealing no names. “It has to be special.”
They assured her it would be. Everyone who worked with Lucky loved her—she had a way of inspiring great loyalty and enthusiasm.
“Have you seen Max?” she asked Lennie when he appeared to accompany her down the red carpet.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “And I was looking forward to meeting the new boyfriend.”
“Don’t say ‘boyfriend’ around her, she’ll kill you.”
“Something wrong with ‘boyfriend’?”
“She wouldn’t like it.”
“Then I won’t say it.”
“That’s wise.”
“Gino’s waving at you.”
“I know. Let’s try to get over to him. I can’t seem to make a move without a dozen people attempting to stop me.”
“In that case, grab hold of my arm and hang on. Smile a lot, I’ll get you there.”
“You’re so macho.”
“And handsome, right?” he quipped. “Isn’t that why you married me?”
“Oh yes!” she said, laughing as he propelled her through the crowd until they reached Gino.
“What’s up?” she asked her father.
“Somethin’s not right,” Gino replied, rubbing the scar on his cheek.
“Not enough ice in your drink?” she said flippantly. “Music too loud? What?”
Gino’s face was serious. “Enzio Bonnatti’s widow is here with a supposed grandson,” he said. “I don’t like it, Lucky, they’re up to somethin’, an’ you’d better find out what it is. She had a crazy hostile look in her eyes. Kept on muttering about the hotel being cursed. They’re here for some kind of revenge—you can bet on it.”
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