Lovers & Players

by Jackie Collins

  ‘What’s your mom do?’

  ‘She was a singer,’ Liberty said, and hesitated. Then she continued, ‘Uh…now she’s a housekeeper to some crappy old billionaire.’

  ‘A billionaire, huh? The kinda dude I might know?’

  ‘Red Diamond. His son’s ex-wife was found stabbed to death this week.’

  ‘Jeez! That story’s everywhere. There’s a panic run on hirin’ security guards.’

  ‘There is?’

  ‘What’s the real scam?’

  Liberty shrugged. ‘Beats me.’

  ‘You mean your mom don’t got no inside?’

  ‘I haven’t asked her.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Too many principles t’ go diggin’ for dirt, right?’

  ‘Something wrong with that?’

  ‘Don’t sweat it. You’re an original, babe, an’ I’m into originals.’

  The limo pulled into the driveway of the hotel and Damon helped her out. ‘Here’s the plan,’ he said. ‘We’re gonna take a romantic stroll along the beach.’

  ‘First of all, you and I are not romantic, it’s late, I have to be up early, and—’

  ‘How many excuses you gonna come up with?’ he asked, looking amused. ‘Relax, LL, it’s not often you get t’ do this kinda thing.’

  ‘Well…’ she said unsurely.

  ‘C’mon, babe,’ he said, guiding her through a side gate. ‘Live dangerously or you’re not livin’ at all.’

  As they hit the vast expanse of sand that led down to the ocean, he bent down and started taking his Nikes off.

  She slipped out of the silver sandals Uma had given her that morning, and rolled up her cargo pants. When she was done, Damon grabbed her hand and began running with her down the beach towards the ocean. The sand felt smooth and cool beneath her bare feet, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore was quite hypnotizing. She felt invigorated and alive, realizing that this was a night to savour.

  When they were almost at the ocean, he stopped, pulled her to him and, without saying a word, began to kiss her.

  She found herself powerless to say no. What did it really matter that he was married? She wasn’t planning a long love affair with him. Anyway, he’d told her that he and his wife had an arrangement, so why not?

  No! She knew enough about men and their desires to realize that he was only offering to help her with her career because she was playing hard to get. A man like Damon could probably sleep with any woman he chose. He had it all–looks, power, money, not to mention a fleet of Ferraris, and, to top it all off, his own plane.

  Damon P. Donnell had everything most women wanted. But he didn’t have her. And that’s what made her different.

  She was thinking all this while they kissed, his tongue exciting her senses, but not enough that she was about to succumb to his advances.

  ‘You’re a great kisser,’ she said breathlessly, breaking apart from him. ‘But my call tomorrow is six a.m., so I’m heading back to the hotel.’

  ‘You are?’ he said, surprised. She was right, turn-downs were not an everyday occurrence in Damon’s life.

  She started walking, then turned and called out, ‘Coming?’

  ‘Yeah, in my pants,’ he muttered, chasing after her, once more grabbing her hand. ‘You are somethin’, LL.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘You do that.’

  They made it to the lobby, windswept and out of breath. And there stood Tony A, in all his white-suited and streaked-spiky-hair glory, an uptight Hector hovering by his side.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Tony asked, stepping forward with a proprietary air about him. ‘I thought we’d arranged to get together.’

  ‘She’s been with me,’ Damon said, jumping aggressively into the picture. ‘So…you got somethin’ to say, then say it to me, dude.’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  First thing Wednesday morning Mrs Conner appeared in the kitchen. Max had already been up for a couple of hours unable to sleep. Try as he might, he couldn’t forget the vivid image of Mariska sprawled on her bed in a pool of blood.

  For a while he’d attempted to work on his computer, but there was too much on his mind for him to concentrate on business. So many questions, and how was he supposed to find the answers?

  In a way it would be a relief if Vladimir turned up at his office, but he had a feeling the man would lie low for a while, stay out of sight.

  He’d made up his mind that today he would contact Irena, go see her and listen to what she had to say. If she was Mariska’s mother, then she might be the one with the answers to all his questions.

  Finally he’d abandoned doing any work and gone into the kitchen to make coffee, which was where Mrs Conner found him.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Diamond,’ Mrs Conner said, bustling in and taking over the coffee-making duty.

  ‘You’re up early,’ he remarked, glancing at his watch, noting it was a few minutes before seven.

  ‘I’ve always been an early riser,’ Mrs Conner said, filling the coffee-maker with water. ‘In my home town of Glasgow, seven o’clock was considered far too late for a person to be getting their lazy selfs out of bed.’

  ‘Where’s Lulu?’ he asked, suppressing a yawn.

  ‘The wee girly is still asleep,’ Mrs Conner responded. ‘The two of us had quite an afternoon yesterday. I took her to the park, then we stopped for ice-cream, and after that she came to the market with me and picked out all her favourite cereals and cookies.’

  ‘She enjoys spending time with you,’ Max commented.

  ‘And me with her,’ Mrs Conner answered. ‘She’s a bonny little girl. This tragedy is such a shame—’

  ‘Let’s not discuss it, Mrs Conner,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘I think it’s a subject we should consider closed as far as Lulu is concerned.’

  ‘I hate to say this, Mr Diamond, but she’s bound to find out as soon as she goes back to school. When we arrived home yesterday there were reporters and camera crews outside the building. I shielded the wee babe as best I could, but they were yelling things at her.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said furiously. ‘Can’t they leave anyone alone?’

  ‘I have a suggestion, Mr Diamond. My sister works for a family in Montauk. They live in a lovely house right on the beach, and they’ve gone off to Europe for a month. They told my sister I could stay with her, and I thought–if you approve–I might take Lulu there for a few days. It will be quiet and it would certainly get the little one away from all this fuss and bother.’

  ‘That sounds good, Mrs Conner. How does Lulu feel about it?’

  ‘I waited to ask you first, but I think she’d have quite a time. My sister has twins, two wee ones only a few months younger than Lulu.’

  ‘If she wants to go, then take her,’ Max said, quite relieved. ‘I haven’t even started interviewing nannies yet. I was hoping you’d stay with her until things settle down.’

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure, Mr Diamond. Excuse me now. I must go see if our little princess is stirring.’ She bustled off.

  A few minutes later, Chris came into the kitchen. ‘I’m packed and ready to go,’ he announced.

  ‘Back to your non-existent house?’ Max asked.

  ‘It’s not as bad as I thought,’ Chris said, pouring himself a mug of coffee. ‘Andy tells me the rain has finally stopped and they’re dredging the mud from my house, so as soon as everything’s been cleaned–if it’s not dangerous–I can move back in.’

  ‘Listen,’ Max said, ‘that was no idle promise when I said I’d loan you the money to get you out of trouble with that guy in Vegas.’

  ‘Really?’ Chris said, taking a couple of gulps of hot coffee. ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. How much do you need?’

  ‘Well, Andy recovered my safe,’ Chris said, ‘and there’s two hundred and fifty thousand in there, so another t
hree hundred and fifty will do it.’

  ‘Consider it taken care of.’

  ‘Thanks, Max. I’m planning to be in Vegas at the weekend for Birdy’s wedding. Man, you don’t know what a freakin’ pleasure it’ll be to get Roth off my case.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Max said.

  ‘So,’ Chris said, pouring himself more coffee, ‘the Japanese are on board. Your project’s going ahead, everything’s cool.’

  ‘It’s all good,’ Max agreed. ‘Back to business as usual.’

  ‘Don’t forget what we talked about last night. Hand the box over, tell them Mariska left it with you for safe-keeping and you forgot about it. If they think you took it out of her apartment you’ll be in deep shit. Trust me on this.’

  Max nodded. He was aware that Chris was right, but at the same time he had to talk to Irena before he did anything.

  Lulu bounded into the kitchen. ‘Can I go to the beach with Mrs Conner, Daddy? Can I? Can I? Can I?’ she asked excitedly, hopping up and down.

  ‘Yes, sweetie, if that’s what you’d like.’

  ‘Yes, Daddy, that’s what Lulu wants. No school! No! No! No! Mrs Conner is my favourite.’

  ‘When am I gonna be your favourite?’ Chris asked, bending down to give her a hug.

  ‘Let me see,’ Lulu said, with a cheeky smile, ‘you can be my favourite tomorrow.’

  ‘Can’t wait!’ Chris replied, winking at Max. ‘I always dreamed of meeting a girl like you.’

  Lulu dissolved into a fit of childish giggles.

  Amy stirred in her sleep and threw out her arm. She was startled to hit another body. Then it all came rushing back. She was in bed with Jett. Somehow or other he’d ended up spending the night.

  Oh, God! What had she done now? Wasn’t the first time bad enough?

  He was still asleep, snoring lightly. She stared down at his face. He was so handsome, and it wasn’t just his looks that got her, it was the way he was with her. Last night they’d talked for hours. Other than Tina, he was the first person she’d confided in about her kidnapping ordeal, and it had been such a relief sharing the experience that she’d ended up telling him everything.

  ‘Didn’t you ever see a shrink about it?’ he’d asked.

  ‘No, my mother told me I had to forget it ever happened.’

  ‘The woman’s freakin’ crazy,’ Jett had said. ‘She should’ve immediately gotten you some help.’

  ‘Unfortunately, she didn’t.’

  ‘That’s why you’ve always been repressed sexually.’

  ‘You think I’m repressed?’

  ‘Until we got together you were a twenty-one-year-old virgin living in New York. You consider that normal?’

  ‘I–I don’t know.’

  ‘Believe me, it’s not. You were sexually molested at fourteen, Amy, and that made you terrified of sex.’

  ‘Then why aren’t I terrified with you?’

  ‘Cause we have this amazing chemistry thing going.’

  ‘We do?’ she’d said shyly.

  ‘That, or you were totally wasted,’ he’d teased. ‘It’s certainly the reason you’ve held Max off.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘It’s a sure thing. It fits right into his hang-up.’

  ‘What’s his hang-up?’

  ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  ‘I only know the story from Chris, but apparently when Max was in high school, he had a steady girlfriend. The night of the junior prom he brought her back to the house. Red walked in on them just as they were about to do it.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Red started yelling and screaming, sent Max to his room, then the old pervert proceeded to rape the girl. She was sixteen.’

  ‘What?’ Amy had gasped. ‘That’s so awful.’

  ‘And that is why he’s so not into sex. So, you see, the two of you made the perfect pair.’

  ‘He never told me about it.’

  ‘Hey, if you and Max had any kind of connection, you’d both know everything about each other, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I feel so bad for him now.’

  ‘Cut it out, Amy. Max isn’t right for you and you’ve got to break it off.’

  ‘I can’t tell him about us, Jett, I can’t.’

  ‘You’ll do it–eventually. Or he’ll find out by himself. We’ll sneak around for a while, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t want to sneak around.’

  ‘Not forever,’ Jett had assured her. ‘One day we’ll bring it out into the open. By that time, Max will have found someone else so it won’t break his heart.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she’d said plaintively. ‘Max loves me, he really loves me.’

  ‘He loves you because you’re Miss Pure. Don’t you get it? Nobody can touch you except him. That’s what he loves about you, Amy.’

  Eventually they’d fallen asleep on top of the tangled sheets, and now it was morning.

  ‘Jett,’ Amy murmured softly, catching a glimpse of the bedside clock, ‘it’s almost eight, we slept right through.’

  He struggled to open his eyes. ‘Oh, shit,’ he mumbled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Gianna’s gonna be pissed. I should’ve let her know I wasn’t coming home last night.’

  ‘I thought you told me you had an open relationship.’

  ‘We do, but ever since she’s been in New York she’s been kind of clingy. It’s…difficult.’

  ‘I have to get to work,’ Amy said, climbing out of bed. ‘And you should go do what you have to do.’

  ‘I’ll come over later.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because this is all happening too fast,’ she said, feeling confused. ‘I don’t want to sneak around like you said. As it is, Chris knows, and how do you think that makes me feel?’

  ‘Chris doesn’t know.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Jett.’

  ‘Uh…well, maybe I mentioned that I like you.’

  ‘I’m not an idiot. You told him, didn’t you?’ she said accusingly.

  ‘It was a mistake,’ he admitted. ‘I was so shocked when I saw you at the rehearsal dinner. I’d been talking about you non-stop. Chris knew I was looking for a girl–and then she turned out to be you.’

  ‘You were talking about me?’ she asked softly. ‘Looking for me?’

  ‘From the moment you ran out of my apartment,’ he said, pulling her back to bed.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You bet.’

  ‘Oh, Jett.’ She sighed. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘We’re going to be very, very happy, and that, my sweet girl, is a promise.’

  Max made the trek to Brighton Beach, where Irena lived in a run-down apartment building surrounded by shops, Russian restaurants and seedy-looking nightclubs.

  Since he hadn’t wanted his driver knowing where he was going, he’d driven himself in his usual erratic style.

  He’d discovered Irena’s address in Mariska’s phone book and next to it a phone number. He’d tried the number several times, but nobody had answered, so he’d taken a chance and driven out to see her.

  Now he stood outside the crumbling old apartment house, wishing he could’ve persuaded Chris to come with him. There was something surreal about being in this place, it was as though he’d stepped out of Manhattan into a completely different world–a world of grey skies, stormy ocean breezes drifting in from the nearby beach, drizzling rain, and run-down store-fronts.

  Chris was right. Why hadn’t he handed everything over to Detective Rodriguez and backed away? He was a businessman, not a goddamn detective.

  A line of grimy mailboxes informed him that Irena’s apartment was on the fifth floor. The elevator bore a NOT WORKING cardboard sign, so he took the concrete stairs. A strong stink of cat piss, stale beer and old cooking smells pervaded the air. If Irena was Mariska’s mother, then Mariska sure as hell hadn’t cared much about her living conditions.


  When he reached the apartment he could hear music playing, loud, strident sounds that were unfamiliar to his ears. There was no doorbell, so he knocked. Once. Twice. Louder.

  Nobody came.

  An old man in grey pyjamas, with a matching beard and a workman’s cap perched jauntily on his head, opened the door of the apartment across the hall, and muttered something in Russian–at least Max presumed it was Russian.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Max said.

  ‘Not so much noise,’ the old man grumbled, in thickly accented English.

  ‘Is the woman who lives in this apartment home?’ Max asked, speaking slowly in a louder-than-usual voice.

  ‘No English,’ the old man shouted, retreating back into his place as Irena opened the door to hers.

  She stood for a moment, her face frozen with shock. She was a stout, homely-looking woman, with frizzed greyish hair and a florid complexion. ‘Mr Diamond,’ she said at last, her mouth popping open in surprise. ‘What you do here?’

  ‘Came to see you, Irena. Can I come in?’

  Reluctantly she allowed him into her one cramped room with an unmade bed in the corner, a hot-plate and an old-fashioned ice-box. An ancient black and white TV blared loudly, while a mangy cat lay sleeping contentedly on its back.

  Irena switched off the TV and flapped her hands in the air. ‘Mrs Diamond,’ she lamented. ‘Such a terrible thing. So terrible…’

  As he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, he noticed a sudden sparkle on Irena’s pinky finger. It emanated from a very large diamond ring. The ring he had presented Mariska with on the day they got engaged.

  When Jett burst into Sam’s apartment, Gianna was busy packing. ‘Hey!’ he said.

  She barely glanced in his direction.

  ‘Uh, sorry about last night,’ he began. ‘It was—’

  ‘Nothing,’ she interrupted, bestowing an ice-cold look on him.

  ‘Nothing?’ he said, taking a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket.