Just thinking about his little girl made him break out in a sweat. What if she wasn’t his? What if Vladimir or Alex or who the fuck else Mariska had slept with was Lulu’s real father?
Christ! He couldn’t bear it. It simply wasn’t possible.
And yet…it was.
So what was he supposed to do? Arrange a DNA test?
No! He wasn’t about to do that. Lulu was his. There was no doubt in his mind.
Or was there?
Because Red was so rich, people always got it into their stupid heads that he was the perfect person to blackmail. Surely they understood that to become the man he was today, he had not suffered fools easily? He was a destroyer, and those who were foolish enough to get in his way were duly destroyed.
Yesterday some low-down Russian hooker had made her move. It infuriated him when people made the mistake of treating him as if he was an easy mark. Especially women. Especially whores.
The truth according to Red Diamond was that, at sometime or another, all women behaved like whores. They all had a price. It was a question of finding out how much. And he should know–he’d married four.
Four wives, and not a winner among them.
As for Lady Jane Bentley…she’d turned out to be the most expensive whore of all. And she couldn’t even suck a cock properly, so what good was she?
He would pay her off and good riddance. But she would not get as much as she was asking for, no damn way.
He was Red Diamond. A self-made man to be reckoned with. Nobody ever got the better of him, although many had tried. In business he was a killer. He conducted his personal life the same way. Only the strongest survived in Red Diamond’s world.
He thought about the red-headed call-girl for a moment. Spectacular-looking. Zaftig and Russian–the kind of woman he got off on. Spewing crap about Mariska. What did he care? Mariska was dead, and he wasn’t the fool who’d married her. Max was. His eldest son. His eldest idiot.
Why couldn’t his sons have been more like him? They all took after their useless mothers, and that was a real shame. None of them had the kind of balls he possessed. Brass balls. Solid brass.
Red looked forward to the meeting that lay ahead, it should be quite an event. His three sons, Lady Jane and Diahann. Some combination.
They were probably all stressing over why he’d called the meeting.
Well…soon they would find out.
It was time.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Lady Jane Bentley was the first to arrive in the library. It was a magnificent room with its dark wood floor-to-ceiling bookcases, stiff leather couches and rare Persian rugs.
She ran her fingers across the mantel, picking up a residue of dust. Damned maids, they did nothing. During her time with Red he’d never allowed her to fire any of them, claiming that terminating staff was his privilege. He hired and fired on a whim, savouring every moment.
Now she knew why he’d kept that insolent housekeeper around. Diahann. Mother of his illegitimate child–a child she’d never even heard of until she’d discovered the revealing letter tucked into his safe.
It was a lawyer’s letter, very clear and to the point. It stated that although Red Diamond had fathered Diahann’s daughter, Diahann would never reveal this publicly or tell her daughter, Liberty, who her father was. Diahann also relinquished any claims on his estate, and in return she would receive a one-time payment of five hundred and fifty thousand dollars–paid out after he died–plus a lifetime job in his employ with her own apartment in the basement of his house. The letter was signed by Diahann and two independent witnesses.
Now why, Lady Jane thought, would anyone sign a letter like that? The woman had given birth to Red Diamond’s baby–with a good lawyer she could probably have had anything she wanted. It was inexplicable. Was Diahann that dense?
Probably. Dense and uneducated with no self-respect, otherwise she would never have signed such a letter. Anyway, it was about time the boys knew the truth, and today Lady Jane decided she would take great pleasure in telling them that they had a sister.
Red would be livid. She didn’t care. As soon as her attorney informed her that her settlement was agreed, she was out of there. Only why not cause a little trouble first? Since Red had invited her to attend this meeting, she may as well make the most of it.
Her attorney had warned her not to go. ‘The less you have to do with him, the stronger our position,’ he’d said. ‘You have nothing to gain.’
But how could she resist seeing Red’s crusty old face when she told his sons something she knew he never wanted them to find out?
She had dressed appropriately for the occasion. Hair swept up. Chanel suit. Gucci shoes. Two rows of perfect pearls. Discreet diamond and pearl earrings. Cartier diamond watch.
She’d spent the early part of the morning thumbing through some brochures of available properties. There was a Park Avenue penthouse that sounded perfect for entertaining–she’d made up her mind that, once she’d got out of this mausoleum, she was giving plenty of chic, exclusive dinner parties. Then again, there was a pre-war masterpiece on Sutton Place that reeked of elegant charm.
She had plenty of time to decide, and in the meantime she’d take a suite at the St Regis until she made up her mind. After all, she was destined to be a rich woman. Very rich indeed.
‘Why are you going to a meeting with your father–a man who has never done anything for you?’ Amy had asked Jett early in the morning. ‘Isn’t it time you gave up hoping for any kind of relationship?’
He’d shrugged. She couldn’t possibly understand. Nobody could. It was complicated.
‘I’m going ’cause my brothers want me to,’ he’d replied, sitting at the breakfast counter, staring at Amy, who was probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. And it wasn’t just her physical attributes, there was something else about her, a sweetness, a sense of goodness. He was crazy in love–and this was a first.
‘I doubt that Max does,’ she’d said.
‘This’ll be the last time I go there.’
She’d nodded. He’d known she’d want to talk about it later, that was Amy’s way.
In the meantime he’d showered, dressed, and set off for the meeting that should’ve taken place the previous week.
Why was he going? That was a good question. Max probably wasn’t speaking to him–and he couldn’t blame his brother for that. Chris, a true Libra, would refuse to take sides.
Still…it was a family meeting, and Jett knew he was entitled to be there.
Later he’d made up his mind to call Beverly and ask her to set him up with a New York modelling agency. Even though he was a star in Italy, he didn’t care to walk in anywhere cold. And since Beverly knew everyone, she could easily arrange an introduction and steer him to the best.
He considered this to be of the utmost importance. There was no way he was living off Amy so it was essential that he got his career off the ground in America. The Courtenelli campaign was a brilliant start. Once the ads started appearing in all the American magazines, everything should fall into place.
And when he started making money, he was already thinking of asking Amy to marry him.
Kind of a scary thought, but at the same time he knew it was what he wanted. Finally. A settled life.
After Jett had left her apartment, Amy ran around cleaning up. She was singing, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she tackled her bed, shaking out the duvet and plumping up the pillows. Jett was it for her. Somehow or other they just clicked. In bed. Out of bed. She was in love, no doubt about it.
Then she remembered her mother’s phone call, and figured she’d better take a look at the tabloids that had so upset Nancy. Best to get that little task dealt with before she went to work.
She slipped on jeans and a T-shirt, then ran downstairs to the news vendor on the corner, where she picked up all the offending magazines.
Once home, she set them out on the kitchen counter and studied the coverage. Her mo
ther was right: it was awful–scurrilous gossip of the worst kind. And the photos were horrendous–especially the ones of Jett stoned out of his head with various girls in major states of undress.
She found it hard to understand why they were dragging Jett into this. He had had nothing to do with his brother’s murdered wife. It simply wasn’t fair.
Oh, God! Wait until Nancy found out that she’d switched brothers and was now with Jett. Oh, Lordy, there’d be raised voices in the Scott-Simon household.
Too bad. It was about time she stood up to her mother, and in the future that was exactly what she intended to do.
The traffic was backed up, so Chris decided to walk to Red’s house from the hotel. He’d thought about calling Jett on his cell, then reconsidered. Do I really want to get in the middle of my two brothers? he’d thought. It’s their fight. Let them work it out.
On the way he made a few calls. First, Lola Sanchez, his Latina diva–whom he talked out of suing, explaining that going after a cheap-shot paparazzo was a big waste of time and money. Next he called Gregory Dark and assured him he would do his best to secure him another couple of points on his studio deal. He didn’t call Birdy Marvel because it was too early in L.A. But he did call Jonathan Goode, who was in Paris with his new girlfriend/fiancée–an ingénue actress of eighteen.
‘This is crazy,’ Chris informed him. ‘Too fast.’
‘I’m in love, man,’ Jonathan enthused. ‘This girl is amazing!’
‘Does this mean I’m to get to work on the pre-nup?’
‘I don’t want to insult her.’
Sure, Chris thought. When she discovers you’re gay, she won’t be at all insulted. ‘Hold off until she signs,’ he advised. ‘I’ll have the papers to you first thing tomorrow.’
Verona was next on his list. She was cool and crisp as he explained why he hadn’t called, blaming it on family problems, which was basically true. ‘How about meeting me at the airport? Then we’ll stop by Koi’s and grab a bite,’ he suggested, the old Chris Diamond charm going full force.
‘I met a friend of yours,’ Verona said, her tone quite icy.
‘You did? Who was it?’
‘Inez Fallon.’
Oh, shit! Inez. The actress from the plane with whom he’d shared one night of energetic sex. ‘Ah, yes, Inez,’ he said, hoping Inez hadn’t shot her mouth off. ‘Nice girl.’
‘She liked you too,’ Verona said, her tone getting even colder. ‘Informed me you were a stud in bed, and she’s expecting you to call her soon.’
Busted! What kind of luck was that? ‘Look,’ he explained. ‘You and I, we were kind of on the outs, right?’
‘Wrong.’ A long meaningful beat. ‘So, Chris, here’s what I suggest. Go fuck yourself.’ And Verona clicked off, leaving him without a girlfriend.
Damn. He’d been quite looking forward to Verona’s professional back-rubs and somewhat Zen blow-jobs. Plus he’d had her pegged to organize the redecorating of his house. Too bad.
Finally, standing outside Red’s house, he called his assistant, Andy, at home.
‘Should I give you yesterday’s phone list?’ Andy asked. ‘It’s long.’
‘E-mail me. I’ll go over it on the plane.’
‘A woman called Gianna phoned from Italy. She said she’s coming to L.A. and wants to get together.’
‘Gianna, huh?’ Chris said, flashing onto the extremely beautiful Gianna. Hmm…Things were looking up. He wasn’t usually into sloppy seconds, but since Jett had definitely moved on…‘Did she leave a number?’ he asked.
‘She did.’
‘E-mail it to me first.’
‘Right away.’
‘How’s my house?’
‘They’ve started work on it.’
‘Thanks, Andy.’ He glanced up. Jett was approaching ‘Gotta go. See you later.’
Sonja was lurking in the underground parking garage of Max’s apartment building when he emerged from the basement elevator on his way to Red’s house.
Earlier she’d observed all the press and camera crews outside the front, and she’d figured that when he left his apartment it would be via the garage. So she’d made her way down there, charming her way past the security guard with a smile. Sonja had learned at a very early age that a seductive smile could get her anywhere she wanted.
She hung around somewhere between Max’s car and the elevator, waiting patiently. If Red Diamond didn’t want to pay, she was sure Max Diamond would. He had a child to protect. He would not relish the information she had about Mariska being made public.
When he emerged, she was ready. ‘Mr Diamond,’ she said, boldly approaching him.
‘Who are you?’ he said shortly. He’d just come off the phone with Elliott Minor, who’d informed him that Detective Rodriguez had new evidence concerning Mariska’s murder and was close to making an arrest. This was surprising and startling news. Although not that startling, because once he’d told the detective about Vladimir, he’d known something would happen.
‘He’d like to contact you when an arrest takes place,’ Elliott said. ‘Where will you be?’
‘I’m on my way to my father’s house.’
‘We’ll stay in touch,’ Elliott said.
‘That’s fine,’ Max said.
‘I’m sorry about the tabloids,’ Elliott added. ‘We can sue the bastards if you give me the word.’
Max had no idea what Elliott was talking about. He hadn’t seen the tabloids and he didn’t intend to.
‘I am an acquaintance of your father’s,’ Sonja said. ‘He suggested you might have interest in certain…information.’
Now why would Red be sending this woman to see him? ‘About what?’ Max said, frowning.
‘About your wife.’
‘My wife?’ he said, thinking how like Mariska this woman sounded.
‘Your wife that is deceased.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I am Sonja. I know your brother also.’
She looked vaguely familiar. Long, flaming-red hair, statuesque body. He’d seen her somewhere before. Then it came to him. The girl-on-girl show at his bachelor party. Jesus Christ! What the hell did she want?
‘We must talk,’ Sonja said.
‘Not now,’ he said brusquely. ‘I’m on my way to a meeting.’
‘It is urgent,’ Sonja said, licking her lips.
‘It’ll have to wait.’
‘Until when?’
Max’s patience was wearing thin. ‘Look, Miss,’ he said sharply, ‘what is it that you want?’
‘Five hundred thousand dollars for my silence regarding Mariska’s marriage to a Russian man. They were never divorced. I have proof of their marriage. Money for silence. Is good American business, yes?’
First Vladimir, now this woman. Well, she was too late because he didn’t care anymore. Soon Vladimir would be arrested, and the world would know how he’d been duped by Mariska. So be it. He’d protect Lulu as best he could. That was all he could do.
He headed for his car. She followed close behind.
He stopped for a moment, swung his head round. ‘Did Vladimir send you?’
She was startled that he knew Vladimir’s name.
‘Well,’ Max demanded, ‘did he?’
‘You–you know about Vladimir?’
‘Get out of here before I report you to the police,’ he said sharply. ‘Blackmail is a Federal offence. You could go to jail. So get the hell out of my way.’
Sonja was stunned. What was wrong with the Diamond family? They had plenty of money, why didn’t they pay?
Now it was her turn to frown. She would go to the newspapers, that was what she’d do. She would sell their dirty secrets for a lot more than five hundred thousand. And not only would she sell their secrets, but she’d embellish–add plenty of sex. After all, she’d fucked the father and the son. That should be worth plenty.
Red Diamond–billionaire sex pervert. Chris Diamond…Hmm, he’d not been into any freak scenes. She’d ha
ve to make something up.
Perhaps like father like son…
Yes, that was it. Who was there to refute her story?
Famka.
Ah, Famka. Perhaps it would be wise to bring Famka in on it. Not as a full partner–after all, it had not been Famka’s idea, it was hers. However, with Famka involved, her story would have back-up, making it worth all the more.
Big bucks, Sonja thought. That’s what America is all about–big bucks.
Detective Rodriguez had experienced a busy night. A high-profile murder always increased the pressure to get the case solved as fast as possible. As if it was easy. The way the jerks in the mayor’s office were screaming for action was no big help.
Solving a murder case was like assembling an intricate jigsaw puzzle. You put it together, piece by piece, until suddenly the picture is clear and everything else falls into place.
Max Diamond producing Mariska’s box at one a.m. was a big help–although Detective Rodriguez would have preferred to receive it at a more civilized hour, and certainly earlier in his investigation. Over the last several days he’d had very little sleep, so after hitting the sack at midnight, he had not appreciated being awoken at one a.m. on Thursday and summoned to Max Diamond’s apartment. Then there was the murder of Irena to consider. After listening to Max’s story, he’d dispatched a crime-squad team to Brighton Beach, then got himself there somewhere around three a.m.
Now it was nine in the morning and, after being up all night, he had Mariska Diamond’s killer in his sights.
Soon…very soon…he’d be the department’s hero.
And why not? He’d worked damn hard on this one.
‘Hey,’ Chris said.
‘Hey,’ Jett responded, as they exchanged an awkward hug. ‘Uh…thanks for last night,’ Jett continued. ‘Guess you kinda saved me from myself. Sorry I was such an asshole. Dunno what I was thinking. It was a big mistake–it won’t happen again.’
Lovers & Players Page 49
