Her fear was mixed with a mounting anger. Carolyn was no fool – she was beginning to understand that perhaps love had blinded her to the man Gregory Stoneman really was.
Questions kept running through her head. Why had he asked her to meet him in such a deserted spot?
What was his obsession with the fact that she should tell no one of her pregnancy?
And the worst thought of all – had Gregory arranged to have her taken because she was pregnant with his child?
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that Gregory could be involved. It sickened her. What a disgusting human being he must be, to have come up with this plan. And what exactly did he expect the result to be?
Were these people supposed to kill her and the baby she was carrying? Was that it?
Systematically she continued to work on freeing herself.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Bobby & Denver
Seeing Zeena at the Cavendish hotel bar had done nothing for Bobby. In fact, he was pleased to note that observing Zeena in the harsh light of day was quite a shocker. She came across as hard-looking, with her heavy dramatic make-up and long sweep of coal-black hair. Truth was, she might be athletic in bed, but out of bed her famous toned body was downright masculine. She had muscles like a man, and long sinewy arms. There was nothing feminine about her.
And here he was, sitting with a normal, extremely attractive girl, with soft curves, full natural lips, and the most inviting hazel eyes. Denver. Pretty, smart and he was rapidly falling in like.
After he left her, he returned to his suite feeling quite elated. Maybe this could be the start of something. She’d mentioned she was unattached, and since he was too – who knew what could happen?
Zeena. An adventure. An experience. Been there, done that.
With a sudden flash of insight he realized he was over his infatuation.
A shower seemed like a plan. Stripping off his clothes, he padded into the bathroom and switched the ceiling TV to a sports channel. Then he stood under the six powerful shower-heads, giving himself up to the cascades of water beating down on him.
He wondered how his wild and wonderful mom would get along with Denver. Lucky would like her because Denver was smart and independent – Lucky’s kind of woman. Max would hate her, because Little Sis was insanely jealous of any female he dated. In Max’s eyes he was her big brother, and woe betide any woman who came before her in his affections.
The cold water was invigorating. The volume on the TV was so loud that Bobby didn’t hear the bathroom door open. When someone slid into the shower beside him it took him completely by surprise.
“Hi, Bobby,” a totally naked Zeena drawled in her lowdown husky voice. Then cupping his balls, she added, “Have you missed me?”
This surprising him in the shower move was pure Zeena.
“How the hell did you get in here?” he asked, dumbfounded as he attempted to back away – which was impossible as she had his balls in a disturbingly firm grip.
A throaty laugh. “Surely you know that Zeena can go anywhere she wants? And Zeena can get anything she wants. And right this moment, Zeena wants your cock in her mouth. So do not fight it, simply enjoy.”
And before he could move or do anything, the superstar was on her knees sucking his dick – which had a mind of its own – because out of nowhere it was ramrod hard. He had no say in the matter.
Zeena did nothing half-heartedly. She was what the guys would describe as a Master Cocksucker – although Mistress of the Blow-Job might be a more apt title.
She sucked him dry and then some, and he put up no defense, or rather his dick didn’t. When she was finished she announced she had a show to prepare for, and leaving him dripping in the shower, she was gone as stealthily as she’d appeared.
Holy shit! Thank God he didn’t have to explain what just happened to a girlfriend, because if he did have a girlfriend – she’d never believe him.
Feeling used and angry at himself, he made it out of the shower and quickly dressed.
Basically Zeena had molested him, and his dick had happily gone along with it.
Goddamn it! Why hadn’t he locked the hotel door? Or at least the bathroom door?
But then again – knowing Zeena, locks would present no deterrent. Miz Superstar could probably spring a lock with her snatch!
Still pissed, he left the suite and went downstairs.
* * *
So here I was, stranded in Vegas with nowhere to hang out until my date (yes, I’m calling it a date) with Bobby.
It was almost five, so I had two hours to kill before meeting him. When Ralph and entourage departed, the luxury suite became unavailable, so I was on my own. I quickly made up my mind that a change of clothes was in order, and maybe a comb-out at a hair salon. Plus I’d better book myself a room for the night, unless . . . No! Too soon! Bobby isn’t just another guy. He’s special.
I hit the shopping mall, searching for something suitable. Nothing too sexy – that would be obvious. More subtle sexy.
Hmm . . . I was in Vegas – subtle sexy was a whole world away.
After traipsing through several stores, I finally came across the perfect dress. A one-shouldered Donna Karan number in soft red silk jersey. Too expensive by far, but hey – I was in a reckless mood. So what if it cost almost two weeks’ salary!
The problem was that, once I had the dress, I knew I had to buy shoes to go with it.
Here’s the deal. I am not usually an extravagant person, but for tonight’s adventure I am planning – obviously – to go all out. And yet . . . I don’t understand why.
Yes, actually I do understand. This so-called date with Bobby is taking me back to my awkward teenage years. It’s validating the fact that the boy everyone craved back in the day was paying attention to me!
This entire episode was so juvenile. I have actually blown off my boss, not to mention an important client of the firm, to indulge myself for once. Crazy behavior! What happened to work always comes first?
I’m beginning to get mad at myself. This was so totally unlike me.
Then I spotted the perfect shoes – strappy gold sandals with ultra-high heels and an ultra-high price tag.
Should I? Shouldn’t I?
Oh, man! I am turning into a Sex and the City kind of girl, and that’s not like me at all.
I purchased the shoes, then headed for the beauty salon where they washed and blow-dried my hair into soft curls, then talked me into having a professional make-up. More crazy behavior!
After the make-up artist and hair stylist were done, I changed into my new dress in the ladies room and inspected my image in a full-length mirror. It was the super-glam version of me. Quite a radical change.
Did I like the way I looked? I wasn’t certain. But I was certain that with the mini-makeover I was sure to be more Bobby’s type, false eyelashes and all.
* * *
M.J. and Cassie both had dizzy smiles on their faces when Bobby met them in the bar downstairs.
“You look happy,” he remarked, ordering a beer.
“Yeah, we do,” M.J. responded, exchanging an intimate grin with his young girlfriend.
“What?” Bobby said. “You won at blackjack?”
“Better than that,” M.J. responded, his grin getting wider by the minute.
“Spill,” Bobby said.
“We got married!” Cassie squeaked, her pretty little face all aglow. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“You did what?”
“Married, dude,” M.J. said excitedly. “Would’ve liked you as a witness, but it was an off the wall kinda let’s go ahead an’ do it deal.”
“Holy shit, M.J.,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “Your mom’s gonna kill you.”
“Not when she meets Cassie she won’t,” M.J. said confidently. “She’s gonna love her.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yeah, man. Can you try to look happy for us?”
“I can’t wai
t to see Zeena,” Cassie piped up. “Will we get to see her after the show?”
“Sure,” Bobby said, mourning the loss of his best friend, for he had no doubt that after M.J.’s announcement there was no chance of a one-on-one conversation.
“Where’s Annabelle and Frankie?” M.J. asked. “They need to hear our news. We got some major celebrating to do later.”
“An emergency came up,” Bobby explained. “The two of them had to turn around an’ fly back to L.A.”
“Too bad,” M.J. said. “They never got to meet my bride.”
Bobby wasn’t prepared to deal with M.J.’s craziness right now. Getting married in Vegas indeed. What a cliché! No pre-nup. No proper wedding. M.J.’s parents were going to flip out.
Soon Brigette and Kris appeared, and they too were all smiles.
It seemed everyone was having a great time except him. Bobby knew that he’d be having fun too if it wasn’t for the Zeena incident. In retrospect he should’ve pushed her out of the shower and told her to get the hell away from him.
But no, he hadn’t done that, because his goddamn dick had been too busy getting off on the attention.
Damn! A little control would have been nice.
* * *
Maneuvering my way through the casino in heels much higher than I was used to, I realized that with the clinging red dress, the new hairstyle and the super-slick make-up, I had totally taken myself out of my comfort zone.
Men were paying me a lot of attention, and I didn’t like it. The attention was making me feel exposed and vulnerable. And speaking of feeling vulnerable, the red dress did not allow for a bra, so the girls were out there for all to see.
What was wrong with me? Why this sudden need to get all glammed-up?
Because obviously I was competing with the legions of women who I imagined were constantly chasing after Bobby.
Irrationally I started to feel angry. At him! It was all his fault. Why had I put myself in this position? It was quite ridiculous. I should’ve flown back to L.A. with Mister Shark Teeth and Ralph the movie star. I’m a professional lawyer, not some lovesick girl attempting to get noticed.
By the time I reached the bar where we’d arranged to meet, I was ready to tell Bobby that unfortunately I couldn’t stay, so sorry.
But all bets were off the moment he stood up to greet me. He had on a blue shirt, open at the neck, dark jeans, a thin leather belt, and his black hair was slightly damp and curling over his collar.
Mario, with his dimples and fine abs, was not even close to looking this good.
“Wow!” Bobby said, pulling me in for a small but intimate hug. “Look at you!”
Was that a compliment? Please let it be a compliment.
“Wow!” I retaliated. “And look at you.”
“I guess we both clean up pretty good,” he said with a wide and quite irresistible grin on his face.
“I guess so,” I replied, slightly breathless.
He introduced me to his friends, and after that I was lost in his dark sexy eyes.
I knew, without a doubt, that it was destined to be a memorable evening.
Chapter Fifty
Annabelle
Not only were they flying back to L.A. before Ralph was able to find and confront them, they were suffering the indignity of making the trip back on a commercial flight.
Annabelle was apocalyptic with fury. Frankie had ruined her life! Her well-thought-out plans for a delightfully uncomplicated future with Bobby were totally shattered.
The problem was that her drug-addict boyfriend had screwed them both by hiring his asinine cousin and her dimwit-ted son. What a pathetic pair! She’d warned Frankie time and time again that the two of them were useless, but he’d refused to listen. Now their story was splashed across the front page of the cheapest tabloid around, and she was being painted as a madam! A madam – how ridiculous was that?
When Frankie had appeared in the suite earlier, she’d been all ready to blast him for taking his time getting there. But before she could say a word he’d handed her a tastefully gift-wrapped package and urged her to open it.
Annabelle needed no encouragement when it came to opening presents. She’d ripped off the wrapping paper, revealing a black leather box. In the box nestled a pair of sparkling diamond earrings.
Hmm, she’d thought. Maybe Frankie isn’t such a loser, after all.
The earrings were expensive and quite exquisite. For once Annabelle was impressed.
After putting them on and admiring herself in the bathroom mirror, she’d wandered back into the bedroom where Frankie was in a lustful mood. She’d responded, because when Frankie was on his best behavior the sex could be quite outstanding, and lately they’d not been connecting.
He’d slowly undressed her until all she had on were the diamond earrings and her strappy Jimmy Choos. Then he’d sat her on the side of the jacuzzi tub, spread her legs, gotten on his knees and gone down on her.
Giving oral was not Frankie’s thing at all, so she’d been quite delighted. The result was an amazing orgasm.
But then, in true Frankie fashion, he’d ruined everything by telling her about their headline story in Truth & Fact. And on top of that, he’d informed her that Ralph was in Vegas, intent on splitting them up and dragging her back to L.A. with him, locking her up and probably throwing away the key for ever.
Frankie was exaggerating, but Annabelle did not know that.
When he’d finally gotten up the nerve to show her a copy of Truth & Fact, she’d gone berserk. To see herself depicted as a madam and sometime call-girl was quite shocking. She was appalled.
“We gotta get outta here,” Frankie had said, sweating and agitated. “Pack up an’ let’s hit the road.”
“But what about Zeena’s concert?” she’d asked. And Bobby, she’d wanted to add, but didn’t.
“Fuck the concert. You want Ralph to find us? We gotta split like half an hour ago.”
Annabelle had done as she was told, but not without a litany of objections along the way.
They were now at the airport, and horror of all horrors, they were boarding a commercial jet that didn’t have first-class! Even worse, their seats were located in the back of the plane.
Annabelle voiced her objections to the African-American flight attendant who couldn’t give a rat’s ass.
“Sorry,” the flight attendant said, not sorry at all. “This flight is completely booked out. You’re lucky to get seats at all.”
“Lucky?” Annabelle sneered. “I think not.”
The flight attendant moved away. She’d had a tough day and was in no mood to deal with a difficult passenger.
“I hate this!” Annabelle complained in a loud voice. “Who are all these ugly people dragging so much crap aboard?”
“It’s called hand-luggage,” Frankie said, wishing she’d be quiet. He was trying to figure out their next move, and it wasn’t easy. Should they run back to New York? Or should they stick it out and stay around for the funeral?
“Hand-luggage!” Annabelle sniffed. “More like the entire contents of their miserable houses.”
“Excuse me,” said a middle-aged woman with a bad perm sitting across the aisle. “Aren’t you that movie star’s daughter turned hooker?”
Annabelle visibly blanched. Was some fat old hag calling her a hooker! How could that possibly be?
“You got the wrong person, lady,” Frankie said quickly, leaning forward to shield Annabelle from the woman’s prying gaze.
“No,” the woman insisted in a shrill voice. “I haven’t. I was reading about you two this morning in the hotel coffee shop.” She wagged her finger at them. “Naughty! Naughty!”
“You got it wrong,” Frankie said gruffly, willing her to butt out.
Their annoying fellow passenger had no intention of doing so. “It’s you. I know it’s you,” she said, nudging her husband who was slumped in the seat next to her trying to pretend he had no idea what was happening. “It’s them, Fred,”
she shrieked. “I told you so! Should I get their autograph?”
“Leave it be, Gladys,” Fred said irritably.
“Why should I?” the woman argued. “Their autograph could be worth a few bucks on eBay, you never know.”
“I doubt it,” Fred said, burying his head in the airline magazine.
“Oh,” she said dismissively, “you doubt everything I say. But I’m telling you, it’s them, and I should get them to sign something.”
Frankie tuned the couple out. He had too much going on to care about the likes of a loud-mouthed old bag who wouldn’t quit bothering them.
Annabelle hunkered down in her seat and ordered Frankie to get her a glass of champagne.
“Not on this flight,” he said, thinking that she lived in a dream world. “You’ll have to wait until we get to the hotel.”
In his mind he was formulating a plan. What if he was able to use this story to their advantage? Milk it for free publicity. Turn up at Gemma Summer Maestro’s funeral and brazen it out. Annabelle would be the one garnering all the attention. Annabelle would be the star, making Ralph an also-ran. The media got off on big juicy scandals, and this was a huge one. Beautiful daughter of two mega-famous parents – one of them recently murdered – caught peddling the flesh of New York’s most elite women.
If Annabelle was the star, then there had to be a villain. He could play the villain, why not? It hadn’t gone too badly for the couple from The Hills reality show. Heidi and Spencer – or Speidi, as the press had christened them.
Yeah. This story could launch them into the fame stratosphere he’d always dreamed of. So what if it was a fame based on scandal? They’d still be famous.
What they needed to point them in the right direction was a smart manager, a savvy person who would guide and protect them. A person who would get them out there in the right way.
No Howard Stern Show or Access Hollywood for Annabelle. Her first interview should be with Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer. After that exclusive, the couch on The View, Annabelle explaining her story to the women. Her story would be all about poor little rich girl – or, in Annabelle’s case – poor little bitch girl! The women of The View would eat it up.
Poor Little Bitch Girl Page 27