“Lorenzo tells me your mama says you should not return home until the funeral,” Carlo continued. “We work around that. I speak with Gabriella, she understands.”
“I … I don’t know what to do,” Max said, thinking about how Lucky had told her to stay where she was until the funeral. When would that be? Days? Weeks? No, it couldn’t be weeks; it had to be soon.
She thought about Gino, her macho grandfather. What would he want her to do? Hey, kid, she could imagine him saying. You got yourself a job—an’ you’d better damn well do it. You’re a Santangelo—an’ Santangelos don’t quit.
Suddenly she could picture Gino—old, but still dynamic with his wicked grin and amazing zest for life. Yes. He would want her to carry on; he wouldn’t expect her to sit around with a sad face.
“I guess I’ll stay until the funeral,” she informed Carlo. “Will you talk to Gabriella and explain?”
“Sì, bella. Carlo takes care of everything.”
“And I don’t want to do any more photos today. It’s too much.”
“I understand,” Carlo said. “We already have what we need. You go to your hotel, you rest, and later, as you know, there is a dinner.”
“I’m not sure I can manage that.”
“Whatever pleases you, mio dolce. Although, as you know, this dinner is in your honor. Now I go discuss with Gabriella.”
“Thanks,” she murmured gratefully, thinking how weird it was that this cocky Italian photographer whom she initially couldn’t stand had turned out to be her savior.
“Lorenzo will take you to your hotel,” Carlo said. “I call you soon.”
“What about Dante?” she asked anxiously.
Carlo shrugged and made a face. “Do not worry about him. He is of no consequence.”
And that was that. Crisis solved.
Or so she thought.
* * *
Beverly Villiers was no slouch when it came to getting things done. She had important contacts and a team of underlings that she put to work obtaining signed statements from the doctor who had treated Bobby at the hospital; his business partner, M.J.; the doorman at the hotel; the desk clerk; the manager; and anyone else she could think of.
It was quite apparent that Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos had been drugged and set up, and simply because he was handsome and rich and came from a well-known family, there was no reason for him to be treated as if he were guilty of a heinous crime and refused bail.
With friends in the right places, Beverly was able to arrange an emergency bail hearing with a judge who was always available to do her a favor. Not that getting Bobby bail was a favor, although getting a fast hearing was.
Bail was set at three million dollars.
No problem. The bail money was only a phone call away.
Beverly was confident that she could get Bobby out of jail before the end of the day.
She placed a call to Lucky, and waited for the money transfer.
CHAPTER FORTY
After giving it some thought, Rafael came up with a plan that would involve both him and Alejandro making the trip to Colombia. Maybe when he got Alejandro there, he could tell Pablo what was going on, and Pablo would force his precious son to stay. Unfortunately, Alejandro did not warm to the idea at all. “You will go by yourself,” he informed Rafael. “Pablo will listen to you. He always does. And do not forget that if you fail to convince him—”
“If I fail to convince him—what?” Rafael said, stifling his desire to fight back, yet at the same time knowing that the smart move was to smother his fury about the sex tape.
“You know what,” Alejandro said, a malevolent gleam in his eyes.
Yes. Rafael knew only too well. Alejandro would relish sending the incriminating evidence to his beloved Elizabetta in Colombia. And Elizabetta would never forgive him, he knew that for sure. She would take his son and disappear, for although she was a caring and kind woman who loved him very much, she was also an unforgiving one. He would be screwed.
“What am I supposed to say to Pablo?” Rafael questioned. “How am I to get him to agree to such an investment?”
“I don’t care what you say—as long as you come back with his commitment. Plus a couple of million dollars in cash.”
“What?” Rafael said, quivering with anger.
“You heard. I will need start-up money.”
“Even if Pablo agrees, it is not legal to bring that amount of cash into the U.S. If it was discovered, I could be deported.”
With a malevolent smirk, Alejandro said, “Then you had better make sure it is not discovered, my friend. Shove it up your uptight ass. Nobody will ever suspect.”
* * *
By the time Willow got home, she was feeling the need for some alone time. After she’d lured Eddie with her proposition, he’d gotten so excited that he’d said to hell with his dinner plans—then he was all up for another blow job. Naturally, she’d obliged, because Eddie was full of ideas. “Get me the cash, and I’ll get your movie made,” he’d promised.
Cash was the magic word. Everyone loved it.
She’d sensed it was too early to tell him that she planned on starring in it. Timing was everything. Having his attention was the most important thing.
Back at her house, she was annoyed to discover that Sam’s puppy had crapped and peed in her bedroom to its heart’s content. Picking up dog poop was not on her agenda, so instead she gave Lady Gaga a dish of water, petted her for a few minutes, then fell onto her couch and called Alejandro.
He sounded stoned, as usual. What else was new?
“Come on over. We’ll go to the club and celebrate,” he offered.
“Not tonight,” she replied. “I’m dogsitting.”
“You’re what?” he snorted, as if he didn’t believe her.
“When can you come up with the start-up money?” she asked, determined to keep Alejandro on track while she had Eddie’s interest.
“Soon. I’m sending Rafael to Colombia. He’s leaving tonight.”
“Tonight?” she questioned as the puppy jumped on top of her.
“He will come back with what we require.”
Willow pushed the puppy off her, while wondering if Alejandro had shown Rafael the sex tape. If so, what had Rafael’s reaction been?
The way Rafael had made love to her was memorable, even if he’d imagined she was his damn girlfriend. How come she’d never taken note of him before? Now he was definitely on her radar, and as far as she was concerned, another sex session was certainly a possibility. He’d come up with moves Alejandro had never mastered. Best of all, he’d brought her to an awesome climax, something she’d only ever faked with Alejandro and most men.
Hmm … it occurred to her that maybe she should make a list of all the men she’d slept with. That way when she wrote her autobiography, she’d have it down.
No time for lists now, though. The only list she should be thinking of was the A-list. Getting back on it was of paramount importance.
Willow Price was making a comeback. And not a moment too soon.
* * *
With no Willow to play with, Alejandro surveyed the available talent at Club Luna. He already had two blondes sitting at his table, but they were hardly a challenge. They’d give him head under the table if that’s what he told them to do. Sometimes easy was too damn easy.
A girl on the dance floor weaving around to Beyoncé was catching his attention. He’d noticed her undulating around the night before. He’d been with Willow, so he’d done nothing about her. Licking his lips, he continued to observe the girl. She had a dirty-sexy vibe going for her, a vibe he couldn’t get enough of. After watching her for a while, he had Matias, his driver/bodyguard, summon her to his table.
She took her time sauntering over—all Puerto Rican ass and long curly hair. Alejandro took a closer look. She was not as pretty as J. Lo, his personal favorite, but she had major attitude. He liked what he saw. “You got a name, foxy girl?” he asked, pouring her a glass of champagne.
Alejandro raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You don’t know me?” he questioned, like it was impossible that she wasn’t aware that he owned the club.
“If I knew who you was, why’d I ask?” she said, running a finger suggestively around the rim of her champagne glass.
The two blondes giggled nervously. Was Alejandro going to fly into a fury? They’d both experienced his short fuse, and when he lost his temper, it wasn’t pretty.
But Alejandro wasn’t annoyed at all. In fact, he was enjoying himself. “You got panties on under that dress?” he said, leering at Sonia.
“Whyn’t you ask my boyfriend?” she responded tartly.
“You got a boyfriend?”
“No,” she said scathingly, taking a gulp of champagne. “I’m makin’ him up. An’ for your info, this girl don’t wear no panties. Not ever.”
Alejandro was intrigued. “Get lost,” he said, gesturing toward the blondes.
Obediently, they both rose to their feet and tottered off.
“You got a boyfriend or not?” he said, once again licking his fleshy lips as his eyes lingered on Sonia’s muscled legs.
“Yeah, I got me a big macho boyfriend,” Sonia said. “Only he ain’t here. He sent me to do his business.”
“Business?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “I gotta take care of some things, but that don’t mean I can’t have myself a party.”
“What things you supposed to take care of?”
“I’m on a buyin’ spree. You got connections?”
Alejandro laughed out loud. Did he have connections? Was she shitting him? Who was this woman who seemed to have no idea who he was?
“What’re you looking for?” he asked.
“The usual shit.”
“Bring your boyfriend in. Maybe I can help.”
“I got fifty big ones burnin’ a hole in my bag.”
Alejandro’s eyes shifted to take in the large purse she was carrying over her shoulder. Fifty thousand dollars. And no Rafael around to warn him that this might be a trap.
Fifty thousand.
For a second or two he was tempted.
Then he thought—what would Rafael do?
Rafael would say no. He was always warning Alejandro to be ultra careful.
“Can’t help you, foxy lady,” he said, reminding himself that since he didn’t know her, maybe he shouldn’t risk it.
Sonia gave a casual shrug. “Didn’t think you could,” she said, downing the rest of her champagne. “Guess I’ll see ya around, big boy,” she added, getting to her feet.
Then she was gone, vanishing into a sea of writhing bodies on the dance floor.
Alejandro was pissed at himself. He’d turned down a deal that a month ago he would’ve gone for. The problem was that since Frankie’s arrest, he understood—reluctantly—that he had to be more careful. The bitch DA was out to get him, and no way was he allowing that to happen.
The two blondes were hovering nearby. He gestured for them to return to his table.
They did so, giggling and nudging each other.
Two blondes were better than a hot Puerto Rican. Or were they?
Alejandro decided it was time to find out.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Secrets. So many of them. Too many to absorb. Papers, multiple contracts, a shiny black Glock, numerous family photos, jewelry, watches, stacks of cash, letters, deeds, stock certificates. Also in the box were the photographs Lucky had expected to find. The pornographic photos of Marabelle Blue. Incriminating photos of the sexy blond movie star in compromising positions with several high-powered politicians—including Peter Richmond, Lucky’s ex-father-in-law, a man who had recently announced his aspirations to run for president.
Ah yes, Lucky thought—blackmail photos should Gino ever decide to use them.
Had he used the photos for his own gain? She didn’t know and she never would.
There were more photos—ones she had not seen before. Among them were a series of extremely graphic nude photos of Paige, plus several more of Paige cavorting with a mix of different women and men. The photos were compromising, to say the least.
Why had Gino wanted her to have these photos? It was puzzling. Was she supposed to destroy them? Or did he expect her to keep them should she ever need to use them? The ones of Paige she decided to keep, just in case. Everything else she returned to the boxes to be dealt with at another time.
It was all too much, and with everything going on, she didn’t care to think about it until things were calmer and she could concentrate. She had other matters to concern her. Beverly had asked her to arrange a money transfer for Bobby’s bail. Chris Warwick had texted to say he was on his way back from Palm Springs with information. At least she’d spoken to Max, and that was a relief.
She buzzed Mrs. Crisp, returned the boxes to the safe-deposit wall, then got in her Ferrari and headed home.
On the way she received a text from Danny telling her that Lennie, Gino Junior, and Leo were at the house. He also mentioned that he was busy securing accommodations for everyone, plus putting together funeral services at the Magiriano and organizing a huge celebratory party, which would take place after the funeral.
Who was coming?
The family first and foremost. And there were so many friends and acquaintances who would expect to be there.
Suddenly she was overcome with a wave of emotion. Pulling her Ferrari to a stop by the side of the road, she took a few moments to reflect on everything.
Gino … Gino … Gino. Was he now reunited with Maria, the love of his life? Was he peaceful and content? Was he watching over her and his grandchildren, protecting them all from harm?
She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. Once again, she knew that she had to be strong. Above all else, she had a job to do. And that job was to find Gino’s killer.
* * *
“Gotta get back to work,” Lennie was quick to tell her when she returned home. “Everyone’s in the editing bay except me, and it’s my movie.”
“How was lunch?”
“Those boys ate like a couple of cowboys coming off a weeklong fast,” he joked. “They sure got big appetites.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“The good news is they’re doing okay. They’re a couple of tough little shits.”
“Of course they are,” she said with a soft smile.
“And you, my beautiful wife—how about you?”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m surviving,” she replied, feeling the sadness envelop her like a heavy cloak.
“Always the survivor, right?”
“You got it,” she said with a wry smile. “I’ve decided that’s going to be my mantra from now on.”
“How come you didn’t tell me you were going out? Where’d you go?”
“I drove down the coast. Had to clear my head.”
“Listen, Lucky,” he said, giving her a long stern look. “Do me a favor and don’t go doing that again without security. We’re in a scary situation. Somebody’s out to get this family, and who knows—you could be their next target.”
“C’mon, Lennie,” she said, summoning her strength. “Stop being so dramatic.”
“Bullshit,” he shot back at her. “You know I’m right.”
“What you should do is get back to work,” she insisted. “Everything’s fine.”
“In your world it always is.”
“Okay,” she said, determined to change the subject. “Bringing you up to date, I should tell you that I posted bail for Bobby, and I spoke to Max.”
“About time. Is she on her way back?”
“I told her it was best if she flew home for the funeral. Right now she’s in Rome doing some big-deal mo
deling campaign that she’s all excited about.”
“That’s great. As long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”
“She sounds as if she is.”
“Okay, then, so she’ll come back for the funeral. When will that be?”
“As soon as they release Gino’s body I’ll set a firm date. So now—please—get your ass out of here and go edit your movie. You know you want to.”
“Only if you’re absolutely sure you don’t need me,” he said, putting his arms around her.
“I don’t,” she said, gently pushing him away. “I can assure you that everything’s under control.”
“You—my beautiful, stubborn wife—are something else,” he said, shaking his head as he turned to leave.
She gave a wan smile. “I know.”
By the time she went looking for the boys, they’d bonded with two of the security guards. One of the guards asked if they could take the boys surfing. She gave her permission and off they all went.
How resilient the young were. Whatever life threw at them, they bobbed right back. She remembered that at sixteen she’d been exactly the same.
She called Beverly to inform her that the wire transfer had been sent. Beverly promised that she’d have Bobby out of jail within the hour.
Danny was in his makeshift office. He handed her a long list of people who’d called offering their condolences. She studied the list for a moment before deciding that the only person she felt like calling back was Venus, although there were many others she knew she should talk to. Eventually. Not now. It was too soon.
She headed for her study. It was her favorite room, filled with books, DVDs of movies she’d enjoyed, and family photos. French doors opened onto a spacious balcony overlooking the ocean. The tide was in, and the waves were breaking close to the shore.
The Malibu house was a place filled with peacefulness and love. It was her special retreat away from the craziness of Vegas.
Taking out her phone, she was happy to reach Venus.
“You do know how much I loved Gino,” Venus whispered softly. “He was always my secret crush from the very first moment I met him.”
“I know,” Lucky replied, glad that Venus sounded like her old self. “I had to practically handcuff you to keep you away from him.”
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