She stood in front of trays of lavish jewelry, finally picking out a modest gold bracelet.
“Nah,” Anthony said, vigorously shaking his head. “You wanna get somethin’ with diamonds. You’re my wife—you gotta have the best.”
The jeweler produced another tray, this time filled with diamond jewelry.
“Did I mention I’m thinkin’ of taking you to Vegas?” Anthony said.
“You are?” she said, startled.
“Yeah, there’s a big hotel opening. You might get a kick outta bein’ there. It ain’t healthy you bein’ by yourself all the time. Go ahead, choose somethin’ flashy, ’cause I wanna show you off.” He picked up a pair of flawless yellow diamond drop earrings. “How ’bout these?” he suggested.
“They’re very expensive,” she demurred.
“My wife deserves expensive,” he said expansively. “Try ’em on.”
She did so. They were quite incredible.
“You like ’em, they’re yours,” he said.
Anthony was like a changed man. Irma was perplexed, but at the same time secretly pleased because this was the man she’d always hoped he was. Attentive, generous, kind.
She settled on the earrings. The jeweler had them gift wrapped, then Anthony escorted her to the car and instructed the driver to take her home.
“I’m leavin’ for Vegas now,” he said. “If I think you’ll like it, I’ll send for you. Okay, sugar?”
Sugar? He was calling her sugar? Wasn’t that a term of endearment strictly reserved for his mistresses? She was confused.
“Take good care of this little lady,” Anthony said, speaking to his driver. “She’s precious cargo. She’s my wife.”
Once he’d put Irma in the car, Anthony returned to his office. The Grill was waiting for him.
“You do it?” Anthony asked, his expression stony.
“All taken care of, boss.”
“Give it twenty-four hours, then get it outta there.”
“Yes, boss.”
Irma arrived back at the house clutching her gift-wrapped earrings, which she knew had cost over a hundred thousand dollars. She felt quite light-headed.
When they were first married, Anthony had bought her a few pieces of jewelry, but over the past several years he’d not given her so much as a birthday present. Was he trying to make up for it now?
She went up to her room, immediately heading over to the window to see what Luis was doing. He was present; the old gardener was not.
Maybe she should see him one more time. And after that she could be the faithful wife, because if Anthony was changing, she could do the same and allow him one more chance.
But still … Luis was a big temptation, and she didn’t like that he’d rejected her. She craved one more opportunity to be in his arms. Just one more time….
She hurried downstairs and out to the garden. “Luis,” she said, walking right up to him, “come with me.”
He shook his head, wary eyes darting this way and that.
“Now!” she said firmly. “I’m your boss, come with me.”
He didn’t understand her words, but he certainly understood her tone of voice. Putting down his rake, he followed her into the house and up the staircase to her bedroom.
She locked the door and turned to face him. “Luis,” she said, “what is going on with you?”
“‘Scuse, señora?” he muttered, wishing he was somewhere else.
“Do not call me señora,” she said sharply. “My name is Irma, you know that.”
“Sí … Irma.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were married and your wife is pregnant?”
He shrugged. He understood two words—pregnant and wife. The American woman knew, but still she’d invited him into her bedroom, so she must not care. The sex with her was so different from the sex with his wife, and Cesar had not mentioned a word lately, so perhaps it was safe to make love to her one last time. It was obviously what she wanted, and even though she was pretending to be angry, her eyes were filled with anticipation and her cheeks were flushed.
He could not resist. If they did it one more time, how would Cesar ever find out? Besides, Cesar was not on duty today, and the señora was looking extremely beautiful, unlike his wife who was so big with child that she refused to allow him anywhere near her.
He reached forward and placed his hand on her breast. She did not object. Immediately he felt himself becoming hard.
Next he began undoing the buttons on her blouse, before unhooking the clip at the front of her bra, exposing her small but perfect breasts with the extended nipples.
“Oh, Luis,” she sighed, throwing her head back as his fingers lightly brushed the tips of her nipples, before bringing his lips down to slowly suck on them.
“Luis,” she sighed again.
Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed and proceeded to make tender love to her, promising himself that it would be the last time.
And while she lay back on the bed enjoying his steady kisses and soft caresses, Irma promised herself that this would be the very last time.
Chapter 69
“I have to make a trip, Mother,” Henry said to Penelope, not interested in explaining himself, but realizing that at the present time he had no choice. “I might be gone for quite some time, and I will be needing a substantial amount of money.”
“I gave you two hundred dollars last week,” Penelope said, arching an imperious eyebrow. “Why would you need more?”
“I know, Mother, but that is not enough.”
“Enough for what, Henry?” Penelope said, brushing an imaginary speck off her pristine linen skirt. “We are not a family who fritters money away.”
“One day I’ll inherit everything,” Henry pointed out. “Therefore I do not understand why I cannot have some of it now?”
“Because you are not a responsible person,” Penelope snapped. “No, you are not responsible at all.”
“Responsible for what, Mother?” he asked, controlling the rage he felt toward this woman who would not give him what was rightfully his—or at least it would be when she was dead.
Dead. The word had a satisfying ring to it….
“You are not responsible for anything, Henry,” Penelope said, sniffing her disapproval. “Look at you—you’ve made nothing of yourself. You sit in your room in front of your computer all day long. It pains me that you have never shown any interest in joining your father’s business. We’re both on the board of directors and you’ve never so much as bothered to attend one meeting.”
“Father’s business doesn’t interest me,” he muttered.
“What does interest you, Henry? I would be intrigued to know.”
“Acting, Mother. I wanted to be an actor, but neither you nor Father encouraged me to follow my dream.”
“Your dream!” Penelope scoffed. “How ridiculous! Actors have to be handsome with a personality. Look in the mirror, Henry—with your face you had no chance of succeeding, none at all. That’s the reason we discouraged you.”
“I am talented, Mother,” he said, knowing full well it was impossible to convince her.
“At what, Henry? Sitting alone in your room? You’ve never brought a girl home, you are not involved in any social or charity activities.” She paused, giving him a penetrating stare. “Are you gay, Henry?”
He found the word gay coming out of his mother’s pursed lips quite disturbing.
“No, Mother,” he answered, swallowing his rage at the way she spoke to him. “I am not gay. And you will be pleased to know that recently I met a girl I like.”
“Well, that’s news,” Penelope said, her long thin face expressing surprise. “Do I know her? Is she from a good family?”
“She’s from an … interesting family.”
“Affluent?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Of our stature and social standing?”
“Yes, Mother. Therefore I wish to treat her in a proper fashion.”
He paused for a long moment, allowing her to digest the information. “She has an event coming up I need to attend.”
“What kind of event?”
“She’s an architect, she’s designed an apartment building in Nevada, and I wish to go there for the opening. I cannot make the trip unless I have money, otherwise her father will conclude that I am not a suitable match for her.”
“How much money are you requesting, Henry?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Surely you jest?” Penelope said, unamused.
“I do not jest, Mother. One day it will all be mine, as I keep on reminding you.”
“Unless I decide to change my will,” Penelope said.
Henry experienced a cold chill. Why would his mother say such a thing? Why would she even think it?
“It is imperative I impress this girl,” he said, choking back a response to her comment.
“Impress her?”
“I’m considering buying her an engagement ring.”
“Nonsense!”
“Excuse me?”
“An engagement is out of the question until I have met this girl and her family. You must bring them here before I even think about granting my approval.”
“Very well, Mother,” he said, his voice constricted. “You’ll arrange for the money?”
“No, Henry, I’ll arrange for five thousand dollars, which is a great deal of money. One stipulation: you cannot buy this girl a ring, not until I have met and approved of her. Only then will we discuss the purchase of a ring.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said, thinking that five thousand was a paltry amount, and he needed more to look after Maria, to take her away where nobody could find them. What he needed was his entire inheritance.
He stared at his mother, loathing her. Penelope Whitfield-Simmons was a tightfisted, mean woman, and he hated her with a deep and lasting passion. She’d never shown him any motherly love, never cared about him like a mother should. All she’d ever done was deride him in front of her friends and told him how useless and untalented and ugly he was.
It occurred to him that if she wasn’t around, everything would be his and his days of begging would be over.
Now she was talking about changing her will, and that wasn’t right.
He had to do something about it. And he had to do something about it fast.
Dead … The word had an interesting ring to it.
Chapter 70
Apart from Philippe, who spent most of his days cleaning silver and taking care of the house, and Greta, Leonardo’s nanny, Max had the Bel-Air house to herself. Greta, who’d been summoned back from her vacation to keep an eye on Max, was a certified TV addict who spent her days glued to daytime soaps and her nights glued to prime time. Max considered neither of them a problem, and since she figured she wasn’t grounded anymore, she acted accordingly. It was great when both her parents were too busy to notice what she was up to. She wished it was always this way.
After talking her dad into allowing her to invite Ace, then getting Lucky to agree, she’d been told by Lennie that there were rooms booked for her and her friends at the Keys. “Your mom says you and Cookie can share a room, while Harry can bunk in with your new friend.”
“His name’s Ace, Dad,” she’d said, thinking what a bonus! She hadn’t been sure if Lucky would even want her at the opening considering her absence from Gino’s party. But not only was she invited, she could bring friends!
Ace was driving to L.A. in his brother’s truck, staying the night in Bel-Air, and the next day they’d head for Vegas.
Max warned Cookie and Harry that they had to be on their best behavior when they met him. “You can’t be like lying around totally stoned,” she said. “I have no clue if he’s into that, and since I’m not, don’t even mention getting high.”
“What’s the plan for later?” Cookie asked as they sat beside the pool.
“I was thinking dinner first,” Max said, “then maybe a club.”
“My I.D. is like so fake,” Cookie complained, rubbing suntan lotion on her stomach. “Besides, all the bouncers know me now, I can’t get in anywhere.”
“I know a club we can hit,” Harry said, sheltering his skinny white body under an umbrella. “Hundred bucks at the door an’ no problem—doesn’t matter how old we are.”
“Perfect,” Max said, thinking she couldn’t wait to show off L.A. to Ace. He’d told her he’d never been there before, which was kind of crazy.
“What’s he like?” Cookie wanted to know.
“A major babe,” Max said, thinking she couldn’t wait for her friends to meet him.
“As cute as Donny?” Cookie asked.
“Donny sucks,” Max said, dismissing her ex. “I’m so over that loser.”
“About time,” Cookie said, dangling her feet in the pool.
They decided on an Italian restaurant for dinner, then the underground club Harry knew about.
“Harry,” Max ordered. “You pick up the check at both places ’cause I’m not sure if Ace has much money. I’ll pay you back our share. And whatever you do, don’t let him split it with you. Okay?”
“How do I know you’ll pay me back?” Harry said, being difficult.
“Oh, pul-eaze!”
“She’s in love,” Cookie giggled. “Our girl’s got a major crush.”
“No way,” Max said, blushing.
“Yeah, way,” Cookie teased. “What you gonna wear?”
“Haven’t thought about it.”
“Liar!”
“I am so not!”
“Are you doin’ the deed?” Harry asked. “I mean, you’ll be all alone in your house.”
“Not alone. Greta’s here, and Philippe.”
“Your house is so big you can get away with anything,” Cookie said.
“Yeah,” Harry agreed.
“Is Mister New Dude gonna stay in your room tonight?” Cookie asked.
“His name is Ace, and he’s got a girlfriend.”
“Sure, but he’s leaving her and driving to L.A. to see you,” Cookie pointed out.
“He knows I’m only sixteen. I had to tell him.”
“I don’t get it,” Cookie said. “Is sixteen considered underage?”
“Dunno,” Max said, shrugging. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“He might not wanna do it if he thinks you’re underage,” Harry said, throwing in his opinion.
“I think fifteen’s underage,” Cookie said. “Sixteen’s a go.”
“You’re wrong,” Harry said. “The age of sexual consent is eighteen in California.”
“Whatever,” Max said, pretending she hadn’t really thought about it, although the truth was that’s all she could think about.
To have sex with Ace or not to have sex with Ace—that was the question.
They decided to drive up to Vegas in Harry’s new SUV early the next morning. It had a souped-up engine and he was desperate to take it on a long drive.
“I guess it’ll be okay with Ace,” Max said.
“Why are you so bothered by what he thinks?” Harry asked. “It’s totally unlike you to care. You should be telling him what we’re gonna do.”
“You don’t understand,” Max said. “He’s not the kind of guy I tell what to do.”
“What kind of guy is he?” Cookie questioned, adjusting her Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses.
“Cool,” Max replied with a dreamy smile. “Amazingly cool.”
Chapter 71
Waiting for Lennie to join her in Vegas, Lucky could hardly believe that in less than twenty-four hours she would be opening her third hotel in the shimmering city. The Keys was a more exciting project than any of the others. It was bigger and better and more extravagant—a true oasis of calm and beauty in a city known for its sometimes flashy showmanship. The Keys was not another theme hotel pretending to be Venice or Paris or Rome. It was simply there, making a statement. White and stylish—modern architecture combined with old-fashioned warmth and
luxury. Even the casino was different, lighter and more welcoming, with a friendly lineup of pit bosses, dealers, croupiers, and attractive casino hosts of both sexes. The grounds were lush and lovely, filled with exotic plants and flowers. There were three swimming pools—one for adults, one for children, and one for the in-betweens. All of them surrounded by swaying palm trees. The children’s pool backed up against a glass-enclosed aquarium where exotic fish proliferated. The adults’ pool featured a fully stocked bar. And the in-between pool supplied underwater iPods and a choice of sounds.
Drop Dead Beautiful Page 38
