Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos, son of the infamous Lucky Santangelo and the late Greek shipping tycoon Dimitri Stanislopoulos. Drop-dead handsome with longish dark hair, intense eyes, and olive skin—all inherited from the Santangelo side of the family. Six feet three, with his father’s strong features and steely business acumen, plus Lucky’s street smarts. An interesting mix of skills.
Without touching his massive inheritance, Bobby had gone into business for himself. Along with his partner M.J., they’d opened a chain of highly successful nightclubs called Mood. From New York to Las Vegas Mood was the place to see and be seen.
Currently they were in the process of opening Mood in Chicago and later in the year, Miami, which meant Bobby had a full agenda.
Pacing up and down in his Chicago hotel room, he missed Denver, although at the same time he was also kind of mad at her. In the course of pursuing a notorious drug cartel, she’d been part of a sting operation that had ended with the arrest of Frankie Romano. Poor old Frankie—who happened to be a long-time pal of Bobby’s. Unfortunately, Frankie had gotten himself caught up in the so-called glamor of the Hollywood high life. A druggie, who’d once been Annabelle Maestro’s boyfriend, Frankie had ended up partnering in a sleazy Hollywood club with the son of a Colombian drug lord, then gotten himself taken down for illegally peddling drugs. The charges against him were distribution and possession—charges that could get him a twenty-year prison sentence. It seemed his operation was connected to a notorious Colombian drug cartel—and Denver was making it her business to find out exactly how. She was relentless in her pursuit.
MAX
“More?” Athena Hyton-Smythe inquired, leaning over to her friend, Max Golden Santangelo. Athena was tall and ultra-skinny—six feet without her five-inch Louboutins. She had flame-colored, frizzed-out hair, cut-glass cheekbones, cat-eyes, and a permanent but super-sexy scowl. At twenty Athena was the current “It” girl of the modeling world, and Max was her sidekick, and on the way to making a name for herself as well. The London gossip columns had nicknamed them “The Terrible Two.” They had a reputation for all-night partying and always being the leaders of the pack.
“More what?” Max replied, sucking a long, tall Mojito through a straw.
“Whatever turns you on,” Athena said with a casual shrug of her glistening bare shoulders randomly scattered with gold glitter. “Coke, grass, tequila shots, Molly, pills, you name it.” She indicated a heavyset man sitting in their booth downing shots of straight vodka. “This Russian dude is like a freakin’ pharmacy. He’s offering, so we should take advantage while we can. You know I don’t get off on paying for my drugs.”
Max leaned back on the plush leather banquette in the London club and considered her options. She was a very pretty girl with full pouty lips, emerald green eyes, and long dark hair. Tonight she wore a cut-off top, multiple gold chains, ridiculous heels, and tight black leather pants.
Max was eighteen, almost nineteen, and delighted that in London she could get away with drinking in clubs. Her brother, Bobby, who owned a string of successful nightclubs around the world, wouldn’t allow her to drink in his Vegas and New York clubs. “You’re underage,” he’d informed her. “Go get someone else’s license pulled.”
“Screw you, Bobby,” she’d always responded.
The truth was that since moving to London, she really missed Bobby—along with the rest of her family. Mom, Lucky. Dad, Lennie. Little bro, Gino Junior, half brother Leonardo, and Grandpa Gino. What a family. What a close-knit group. She loved them all, but she’d had to get away after everything that had taken place.
Athena was pushing her for an answer. Drake was pounding it over the sound system.
“What?” Max said irritably. “You go for it, ’cause I’m not in the mood for getting high.”
Athena widened her eyes like she couldn’t quite believe anyone would be dumb enough to turn down free drugs. “Oh, please,” she said impatiently. “Make a decision.”
“Actually, I’m about to head out,” Max announced, reaching for her phone and texting for an Uber cab to pick her up.
“You’re leaving me?” Athena said with a put-upon frown.
“You’re a big girl, you’ll manage,” Max said, sliding out of the booth past the heavyset man and several other rich men only too happy to pick up the check for two delectable young females.
DENVER
“Long-distance relationships suck,” Denver Jones complained to her friend, Carolyn Henderson, as they sat on the back patio of Carolyn’s small house in West Hollywood eating breakfast, while Carolyn’s infant son, Andy, slept nearby in a wicker carry-cot.
“Then maybe you should break up with him,” Carolyn responded with a casual shrug, tearing at a warm croissant and smothering it with butter.
“I didn’t say I wanted to break up with him,” Denver said, throwing her a stony look, wondering why Carolyn was always so negative. “I’m merely bitching about Bobby traveling all over the place while I’m stuck in L.A. ’cause of my job.”
“Ah, but it’s a job that you live, breathe, and totally love,” Carolyn pointed out.
“Oh, yeah,” Denver drawled sarcastically. “I so love trying to nail sleazebags who sell drugs to children and murder people when they get in their way. It’s so rewarding, not to mention major exciting.”
“Although, as a very competent assistant D.A., you do love it when you hear the magic word—guilty,” Carolyn said matter-of-factly. “You’re the one who gets to lock the bad guys away.”
“And how often does that happen?” Denver said, reflecting on how screwed up the justice system could be. Nothing was ever a sure thing. “These guys hire the most expensive and canny lawyers, men in five-thousand-dollar suits who are paid fortunes to get those criminal assholes off the hook. And most times they succeed.”
“Unfortunately that’s the system,” Carolyn said, adding jam to her croissant.
“Yeah,” Denver said glumly. “The system blows, and I should know since I was once part of it. I am so much happier being on the other side.”
“I can tell,” Carolyn said. “And you did get Frankie Romano arrested and thrown into jail.”
“True,” Denver said thoughtfully. “In spite of Bobby urging me to go easy on him.”
“Bobby gave you a hard time, right?”
“He certainly did, Frankie being an old friend of his. I mean, what did he expect me to do? It’s my job, for God’s sake, there’s no way I can call in favors. Frankie’s apartment was drug city. And he was dealing big-time.”
Since leaving the law firm of Saunders, Fields, Simmons, and Johnson, where she had been one of their youngest defense attorneys, Denver was thrilled that she no longer had to defend scuzzy celebrities who were obviously guilty—including action movie star Ralph Maestro. It was all a big relief, she was so glad she’d switched sides to become an assistant D.A. Now she was currently part of a drug task force—a tight-knit group of people, all with the same endgame in mind—valiantly attempting to stop the endless flow of illegal drugs into America. The stories that she saw and heard devastated her. Babies born addicted to crack; teenagers overdosing at parties; young girls forced into addiction and prostitution. And who profited from all this misery? The dealers, of course. From the kids on the street who peddled pot and pills, to the drug lords like Pablo Fernandez Diego—an unprincipled Colombian drug lord who funneled drugs from his country into the U.S. at an alarming rate. The Diego cartel was notorious for supplying large shipments of cocaine, marijuana, heroin, methamphetamine. It seemed his drug operation was unstoppable, and although it would be more or less impossible to nail Pablo in Colombia, if they could nab his lowlife son, Alejandro, it would be a major coup. Alejandro owned Club Luna, a Hollywood hangout which everyone knew was a front for drug running—but so far nothing could be proved. Arresting Frankie Romano was a positive, and Denver had high hopes that eventually Frankie would start hemorrhaging information, for as Alejandro’s former close frie
nd he had to know plenty.
Leon, one of Denver’s colleagues, had been working undercover, which was how they’d managed to nail Frankie. Now, getting him to talk was the key to maybe indicting Alejandro, but so far Frankie was refusing to cooperate.
“Have you ever thought that Bobby might fool around on you?” Carolyn asked.
“Are you kidding me?” Denver said, surprised that Carolyn would even suggest it. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s never crossed your mind that he could cheat?”
“No, it never has.”
“Then you’re more naïve than I thought,” Carolyn said, taking a gulp of hot coffee. “All men cheat.”
ALEJANDRO
“That fuckin’ D.A. is a fuckin’ bitch cunt,” Alejandro Diego fumed, pacing up and down the polished white marble floor of his luxury penthouse located on the Wilshire Corridor in L.A. “I got people telling me she’s trying to get Frankie fucking Romano to spill on me. You know what my father would say? That they both got to be dealt with, an’ my papi is always right.”
“Pablo’s not here,” Rafael, Alejandro’s right-hand man, pointed out. “Pablo’s in Colombia.”
Alejandro’s nostrils flared, indicating his sour anger. “You think I don’t know that?” he steamed. “You think I’m a fool?”
“You should never have become involved with Frankie,” Rafael said in his best I-told-you-so voice. “I tried to warn you he was bad news. The problem is that you never listen.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Alejandro spat. “How come you’re always the voice of doom? What is it with you?”
“Your lawyer says you’re safe for now,” Rafael said, remaining calm, even though he had an urge to smash Alejandro in his dumbass face.
“My lawyer doesn’t know shit,” Alejandro muttered. “It’s my opinion that matters, and I say that Frankie needs taking care of before he opens his big mouth. As for that attorney bitch, take care of her, too. You know she’s trying to get me indicted, so why aren’t you doing something?”
“I am,” Rafael said quietly.
“What?” Alejandro demanded.
“You’ll see. There is a plan in motion.”
Alejandro turned on Rafael with a vicious expression. “It better be good,” he threatened.
“It will be.”
Alejandro was the privileged son of Pablo Fernandez Diego, a feared Columbian drug lord, who ruled an empire. And Rafael was the lowly son of Eugenia, Pablo’s housekeeper. The two men had grown up together.
Eugenia, a comely woman, had cared for both boys as if they were brothers, and many people suspected that they were, for Eugenia had no husband or significant other. The only man in her life was Pablo, whom she doted upon.
Pablo Fernandez Diego was not only a major drug lord, he was also a notorious womanizer. Married three times to a trio of beauty queens, he entertained an endless parade of mistresses. After business, sex was his favorite pastime.
Alejandro’s mother had died in a tragic car accident when he was a baby, so the only mother figure he’d known was Eugenia. He had no siblings—maybe Rafael, although neither Eugenia nor Pablo would admit that Rafael was his actual brother, which suited him fine. Alejandro took pride in the fact that he was the chosen one who would eventually inherit Pablo’s huge drug empire. Rafael had no inheritance rights.
At twenty-nine the two of them were a month apart in age—Rafael being the oldest. They’d attended school together, hung out together, screwed the same girls, and finally completed their education at UCLA in California, where Rafael had spent most of his time clearing up Alejandro’s messes. Over time there were many—from several girls Alejandro had gotten pregnant to a major cheating scandal.
Alejandro had fallen in love with the American way of life, and after returning to Pablo’s ranch in Bogotá for a couple of years, working in the family business, he’d persuaded his father that there was more money to be made if Pablo appointed him in charge of trafficking cocaine and other illegal shipments to California.
“I already have people in place who are taking care of that,” Pablo had informed him. “Everything’s running smoothly.”
“I know,” Alejandro had replied, working on Pablo as only he could. “But do not forget, Papi, that I am family, so who better to trust?”
After a while Pablo had agreed that it wasn’t such a terrible idea. If his son wanted power, perhaps it would be prudent to give him a small taste. Eventually he’d arranged for Alejandro to make the move to the U.S.—as long as Rafael accompanied him, and the two of them worked with the people Pablo already had in place.
Rafael had balked at the thought of leaving. He now had a young girlfriend, Elizabetta, who’d recently given birth to a baby boy, and he had no wish to leave them. However, Pablo insisted—and when Pablo insisted, nobody dared to argue, not if they valued their life.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
There have been many imitators, but only Jackie Collins can tell you what really goes on in the fastest lane of all. From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of power brokers—Jackie Collins chronicles the real truth from the inside looking out.
Jackie Collins has been called a “raunchy moralist” by the late director Louis Malle and “Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust” by Vanity Fair magazine. With more than 500 million copies of her books sold in more than forty countries, and with some thirty New York Times bestsellers to her credit, Jackie Collins is one of the world’s top-selling novelists. She is known for giving her readers an unrivaled insider’s knowledge of Hollywood and the glamorous lives and loves of the rich, famous, and infamous. “I write about real people in disguise,” she says. “If anything, my characters are toned down-the truth is much more bizarre.” You can sign up for email updates here.
Also by Jackie Collins
Confessions of a Wild Child
The Power Trip
Poor Little Bitch Girl
Married Lovers
Lovers & Players
Deadly Embrace
Hollywood Wives—The New Generation
Lethal Seduction
Thrill!
L.A. Connections—Power, Obsession, Murder, Revenge
Hollywood Kids
American Star
Rock Star
Hollywood Husbands
Lovers & Gamblers
Hollywood Wives
The World Is Full of Divorced Women
The Love Killers
Sinners
The Bitch
The Stud
The World Is Full of Married Men
Hollywood Divorces
The Santangelo Novels
Goddess of Vengeance
Drop Dead Beautiful
Dangerous Kiss
Vendetta: Lucky’s Revenge
Lady Boss
Lucky
Chances
PRAISE FOR JACKIE COLLINS …
“No one paints a more delicious portrait of Hollywood than Jackie Collins.”
—New York Post
“Jackie Collins knows a thing or two about life in the fast lane … [with] her wry sense of humor and spitfire approach.”
—Bazaar
… AND HER BLOCKBUSTER BESTSELLERS
The Power Trip
“This sea of extravagant creatures, whose sexual tastes lie on the fringe of raunchy, is abashedly rousing, and what more could one hope for from Collins?”
—Publishers Weekly
Poor Little Bitch Girl
“If anyone knows Hollywood, it’s Jackie Collins … With Poor Little Bitch Girl the bestselling author proves she’s still got it.”
—New York Daily News
“Jackie Collins is at her seasoned best with this raunchy, retro hot-sheets romance.”
—Publishers
Weekly
Drop Dead Beautiful
“Delicious! This one is perfect for the beach!”
—Cosmopolitan
“Another Jackie Collins novel, overflowing with glittery possibilities and dropping more Hollywood names than Ivy’s maître d’. And Beautiful may be the best novel starring Lucky Santangelo yet.”
—Entertainment Weekly
“Collins’s classic can’t-put-it-down style and feisty drop-dead glamorous characters transport us to a beyond-fabulous world. Yet with Jackie as our guide, we feel right at home.”
—Glamour
“That goddess of vengeance, Lucky, strides again.”
—New York Daily News
Married Lovers
“The fabulous Married Lovers has plenty of Hollywood women kicking ass with a trio of new heroes.”
—New York Post
“Sexier, steamier, and more scandalous than ever. Love and lust, where the good get what they deserve and the bad get their comeuppance.”
—London Daily Express
“Nothing says summer like lathering on the sunblock, laying on a lounge chair, and pulling a very steamy novel from the queen of romance from your beach bag—Jackie Collins’s latest romance, Married Lovers.”
—NBC’s “The Today Show”
“A mood elevator comparable to anything her characters indulge in.”
—Heat magazine
“Literary icon Jackie Collins is cranking up the heat this summer with her latest, most seductive novel to date. A sexy page-turner guaranteed to be the steamiest read of the year.”
—New Orleans Living
Lovers and Players
“A fast-paced, glamour-heavy Collins extravaganza … another page-turning tale packed with intrigue, revenge, and romance.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A decadent concoction sure to appeal … a fast-lane take on the lives of the rich and fabulous.”
Double Lucky Page 83
