Lovers & Players

by Jackie Collins

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What did you tell her when she said this?’

  ‘That there was no way I was breaking up with you.’

  ‘Thank God! Because I couldn’t go through this without you, Amy. We both know I’m not the best at expressing my feelings but, believe me, you mean everything to me.’

  ‘I never wanted a big wedding anyway,’ she said, attempting to lighten the conversation. ‘Did you?’

  ‘We were doing it for her,’ he acknowledged.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she agreed.

  ‘Then this could work to our advantage.’

  ‘It could?’

  ‘Of course. Just think, we won’t have to endure a huge rigamarole with all the trimmings. We can fly off to Bali or somewhere remote and have a simple ceremony.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Okay, sweetie. I’ll be there to fetch Lulu within the hour.’

  He hung up the phone and wondered what he could do with Lulu to keep her safe and happy. He had things to take care of and, much as he wanted to be with his daughter, now was not the time.

  His housekeeper, Mrs Conner, entered the kitchen. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr Diamond,’ she said, in a hushed tone, her Scottish burr quite soothing. ‘I wasn’t certain if you’d want me to come in today. If you like I can—’

  ‘No, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I do want you here. I was hoping you could keep Lulu company. I don’t think I should send her back to school yet, and I know she enjoys spending time with you. It’s difficult, and what with Nanny Reece deserting me…’

  ‘Of course I’ll spend time with the wee girl, Mr Diamond. Where is the little lassie?’

  ‘She slept over at my fiancée’s. I’m on my way to get her now.’

  ‘I’ll make her those tasty buttermilk pancakes she gobbles up. Not to worry, Mr Diamond, she’ll be happy and well looked after with me. I raised three wee ones of my own.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Conner,’ he said gratefully.

  Chris wandered into the kitchen. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘I could hear you pacing around all night. Those hardwood floors are a bitch.’

  ‘I discovered a few things,’ Max said grimly.

  ‘Anything interesting?’ Chris asked, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ Max said. Then, glancing at Mrs Conner, he added, ‘Why don’t you come with me to collect Lulu, and I’ll fill you in?’

  Amy put down the phone and went to find Lulu. The little girl was sitting in the middle of the bed, sobbing.

  ‘I want my mommy,’ Lulu cried, in a tear-soaked voice. ‘Where’s my mommy?’

  ‘Daddy’s coming to get you,’ Amy promised, feeling depressed and out of her depth. ‘He’ll be here soon, so while we’re waiting, why don’t you let me help you get dressed?’

  ‘Don’t wanna get dressed,’ Lulu shouted.

  With everything that was going on, Amy did not feel at all equipped to deal with a recalcitrant five-year-old, but she was doing her best. ‘Why not?’ she asked patiently.

  ‘Don’t have my clothes here,’ Lulu muttered.

  ‘Yes, you do, you’ve got the pretty dress you had on yesterday.’

  ‘Don’t wanna wear that again.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I WANT MY MOMMY!’ Lulu yelled.

  ‘I know,’ Amy said sympathetically. ‘And if you get dressed, you’ll be all ready for Daddy when he gets here.’

  ‘But I want Mommy, not Daddy,’ Lulu said, lower lip quivering.

  ‘Mommy can’t come right now, but Daddy’s in his car, and he’s racing to get you. I know he’ll want to see you all dressed and pretty,’ she said, handing Lulu her dress.

  ‘Wore that yesterday,’ Lulu said, flinging the dress back at Amy. ‘Want other clothes.’

  ‘You don’t have any other clothes here.’

  ‘Want my jeans,’ Lulu whined.

  ‘I just told you,’ Amy said patiently. ‘We don’t have your clothes here. Daddy will take you to get them.’

  Lulu threw her a furious glare.

  ‘I’ve got an excellent idea,’ Amy said brightly. ‘Let’s go eat breakfast.’

  ‘Don’t want breakfast,’ Lulu said, sulking.

  ‘Is there anything you do want?’

  ‘Yes, I want my mommy,’ Lulu mumbled, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Where’s my mommy?’

  Amy leaned over and attempted to hug her, but Lulu shoved her away. ‘You know, Lulu,’ Amy said softly, refusing to get upset. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if you and I were friends? We could do fun things together. I could buy you that Hello Kitty stuff you like, and maybe we could take a trip to Disneyland.’

  ‘No stupid Disneyland,’ Lulu said stubbornly. ‘I want my mommy!’

  ‘Well,’ Amy said. ‘I’ll leave your dress here, and if you put it on and come into the kitchen, I’ll make us some waffles. How’s that?’

  ‘No waffles.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen if you change your mind.’

  With Jett around it hadn’t been so difficult dealing with Lulu. He’d joked and laughed with the little girl, who was obviously fond of him. But as soon as Lulu had fallen asleep watching her movie, and he’d carried her into Amy’s bed, Amy had asked him to leave.

  ‘I thought we could talk now,’ he’d said.

  ‘This isn’t the right time,’ she’d replied.

  ‘We have to talk sometime,’ he’d said, trying to get her to look him in the eye, which she’d refused to do.

  ‘Not now. I’m feeling very fragile. It’s been an unbelievable day, and with Lulu here I can’t get into what happened between us.’

  ‘So you’re saying you don’t want to talk about it?’ he’d said, refusing to give up.

  ‘What is there to say?’ she’d murmured, shrugging helplessly. ‘Neither of us knew the consequences of what we did. You obviously didn’t know who I was, and I certainly didn’t know who you were. I’m embarrassed and kind of…confused. So please go, Jett.’

  Reluctantly he’d left.

  After he’d gone she’d regretted sending him away. And then she’d been overcome with guilt for feeling that way. It wasn’t fair to Max, especially in view of what was going on.

  It was quite a situation to find herself in, and now she had her mother on her case, telling her she had to break up with Max and go away on a trip. What did the woman think? That she would simply give up her job and take off? It was so typical of Nancy–imagining she was doing the right thing to save the precious family name.

  For as long as she could remember her mother had blackmailed her with the threat of her inheritance from Grandma Poppy, but Grandma Poppy would never cut her off. Her grandma was a kind, generous, and very smart old lady. There was no way she’d listen to Nancy.

  Besides, Amy didn’t care whether she inherited the money or not. Life wasn’t about how much money you had, and there was no way she was letting Max down at this time. He was hurting and so was she.

  Eventually she’d taken a blanket and curled up on the couch, sleeping fitfully.

  Now she was in the kitchen toasting frozen waffles for a child who couldn’t stand her.

  On Tuesday morning Gianna was intent on dragging Jett into the famous photographer Antonio’s studio, when all he wanted was to go over to Max’s and see if there was anything he could do to help.

  Gianna was having none of it. ‘They pay you bene money,’ she announced. ‘Is nice, no?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, but—’

  ‘You have reputation, Jett,’ Gianna said sternly, all glamorous and business-like in tight-fitting Seven jeans, a Valentino masculine-style jacket, and Jimmy Choo boots. ‘You cannot bail from job at last minute. You missed fittings yesterday. Fortunately I know your body. I found man same size, they do the fittings anyway.’ Then she decided that she’d better lighten up before he got really pissed. ‘You’ll love the clothes, carino, so sexy,’ she purred affectionately. ‘You sexy
boy, sì?’

  He hated it when she called him ‘boy’. She was only five years older than him, so what was with that?

  ‘I shouldn’t be doing this gig,’ he complained, running his hand through his hair. ‘It doesn’t feel right with everything my brother’s going through.’

  ‘You spent yesterday with him,’ Gianna pointed out. ‘Today you work, is not your problem, carino.’

  ‘That’s cold, Gianna,’ he said restlessly. ‘Max’s wife was murdered.’

  ‘She not his wife–he was divorced.’

  ‘It’s still something he has to deal with. Mariska was Lulu’s mother.’

  ‘Jett,’ Gianna said, a touch icy. ‘I come to New York, we do photos together. Antonio shoot the photos. I insist they use you, you cannot disappoint.’

  So there he was in a cab with Gianna, passing the newsstands where the headlines screamed about the murder. It was all one big stinking mess.

  Last night he’d got nowhere with Amy. She’d behaved like a nervous racehorse, ready to back off if he so much as touched her arm. He’d finally left because he hadn’t wanted to upset her. Was he ever going to get a chance to tell her how he felt? Although he had to agree–the timing was bad.

  Gianna had been out when he’d got back to Sam’s apartment the night before. She and Sofia Courtenelli had apparently hit the town, clubbing until two a.m. when she’d finally come home and attempted to wake him.

  He’d pretended to be asleep as she’d tried to work her sexual magic. The problem was that his cock had not been in agreement with his mind. Taking advantage, Gianna had climbed aboard and ridden him for a fast five minutes before he came. Then, unfazed, she’d rolled away and finished herself off.

  All the while he’d pretended to be asleep.

  Apparently nothing bothered Gianna. She was a self-contained ball of fire. A girl who took what she wanted whenever it suited her.

  For the first time in his life he’d felt like a piece of meat. Not a pleasant feeling, although he guessed that during his stoned-out-of-his-mind years, he’d left a lot of girls feeling the same way. At least he wasn’t that person anymore. Now he was together and caring.

  Yeah, so freaking caring that all he could think about was getting back with his brother’s fiancée.

  Nice. Very nice.

  And, hopelessly, he realized there was nothing he could do about it.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Red Diamond did not take kindly to being dragged into the headlines. Mariska’s murder and the subsequent publicity were nothing but an inconvenience, he was livid that his name was being connected to the killing of the Russian floozy Max had been foolish enough to marry. He’d warned him the first time he’d met Mariska. ‘She’s a Russian prostitute,’ he’d informed his eldest son. ‘She’s marrying you for your money and a green card. That’s what those Russian prostitutes do.’

  ‘How dare you speak about my future wife like that?’ Max had said. ‘For your information she has a green card, and she’s a very intelligent and lovely woman with a job. She doesn’t need my money.’

  ‘You’ll learn,’ Red had muttered. ‘Just like you learned about that little tramp you took to your prom. Remember her? She couldn’t wait for a good fucking from her boyfriend’s old man.’

  ‘You raped her,’ Max accused.

  ‘Is that what you think?’ Red had sneered, cracking a nasty smile. ‘She was begging for it, son. Begging for some hard cock you weren’t capable of giving her.’

  It was the closest Max had ever come to smashing his father in the face. Instead he’d stopped speaking to him for several months, until Lady Jane Bentley had intervened. She’d needed some support for one of her charities so she’d invited Mariska and Max to dinner. Why he’d allowed Mariska to accept still puzzled him. But, like his brothers, deep down he was hoping the old man would change and they could forge some kind of relationship. How nice it would be to have a father who gave a shit.

  Mariska had loved being in the company of such an important billionaire mogul and his titled girlfriend. She had been all over Red. But Red hadn’t changed–he was as appalling as ever, and Max had hated every minute, refusing to socialize with them again, in spite of Mariska’s pleas.

  With the headlines informing New York of Mariska’s brutal murder, Red stomped around his house, yelling at anyone who got in his way. He was furious with Lady Jane–the bitch had invaded his safe and read his Will. She’d also snooped through his private papers and found out things nobody knew about. Now she was threatening to make certain things public unless he paid out an exorbitant amount of money.

  Her lawyer–no slouch in the working-fast department–was requesting a settlement in the neighbourhood of thirty-five million dollars. Five million a year for the six years they’d lived together. And this was only the beginning.

  ‘Considering how much you’re worth, you’re getting off easy,’ she’d informed him.

  Bitch. Whore. They were all whores. They all had a price. And he should know, he’d married enough of them.

  Max drove erratically, jamming on the brakes at every red light causing his Mercedes to jolt to an abrupt stop. He’d dismissed his driver so that he and Chris could talk privately.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Chris asked, making sure his seatbelt was tightly fastened. ‘Did you go over to Mariska’s apartment last night?’

  Max nodded.

  ‘You got in?’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Mariska had plenty of secrets. I found the box she kept them locked up in,’ Max said, swerving to avoid a jay-walking pedestrian.

  ‘You took the box out of the apartment?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Which means you removed property that does not belong to you from a crime scene. That’s not smart, Max.’

  ‘I did it for my daughter. I have to protect Lulu.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘Try half a million bucks in cash.’

  ‘Cash. From you?’

  ‘Not from me. Mariska received a very large divorce settlement, plus the apartment. The only money I pay her is child support, and that goes directly into her bank account.’

  ‘Then where’s this cash from?’ Chris asked.

  ‘Who the fuck knows? And not only cash, but several loose gemstones in plastic holders. Diamonds and emeralds, large ones, probably worth a couple of mill. It doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘This is a good one. Her original birth certificate. She was ten years older than she claimed, which would make her forty-nine instead of thirty-nine. And a copy of her marriage certificate to Vladimir,’ he said, almost rear-ending a cab. ‘She certainly took me for a ride. What a lying bitch!’

  ‘She’s dead, Max,’ Chris reminded him. ‘There’s nothing you can do now.’

  ‘I know,’ Max said bitterly. ‘But how could she do this to Lulu? Everything about her was fraudulent.’

  ‘I’m sure she never imagined it would end this way.’

  ‘There was also a phone book filled with names I never heard her mention, mostly Russian.’

  ‘Could be from when she lived in Moscow?’

  ‘No. These names are attached to American phone numbers. Mariska had a secret life nobody knew about. I certainly didn’t.’

  ‘Have you thought of handing everything over to the detectives and letting them get into it?’

  ‘It’s not an option,’ Max said, blasting his horn at a blonde in a Volvo, who was intent on cutting him up.

  ‘It’s not, huh?’ Chris said, bracing his feet against the floor in front of his seat.

  ‘No, Chris. I’m protecting my daughter.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Max. Are you planning on hunting Vladimir down? ’Cause I never figured you as the vigilante Bruce Willis type.’

  ‘I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’m sure if I wait, Vladimir will come back with more blackmail threats, and that’s the
time I’ll call in the police or the FBI.’

  ‘Y’ know,’ Chris said thoughtfully. ‘I’m kind of not getting this. Maybe you can help me out.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘You can’t tell them what you know now, but if he comes back asking for more money, you can tell them then.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What’s the difference? The headlines will read the same.’

  ‘I know. But I need a couple of days to clear my head.’

  Chris shrugged. Max was playing a dangerous game, and he didn’t want any part of it. ‘As long as you know what you’re doing,’ he said, thinking how much he didn’t want to be here. He’d prefer to be back in L.A. dealing with his house and all his other problems.

  ‘I don’t,’ Max said, ‘but I’ll figure it out.’

  Antonio was a legend among photographers. He was up there with Richard Avedon, David Bailey and Helmut Newton. Seventy-five years old, Italian and crotchety, he greeted Gianna like a long-lost lover, plying her with compliments, words of praise and suggestive remarks. A diminutive man, small and neat, groomed to perfection, he was very demanding of his many assistants. He only worked when the feeling took him, his early photographs were gallery treasures and sold for thousands of dollars.

  Ignoring Jett, he escorted Gianna into the make-up room, raving in Italian about how her beauty blossomed more each year.

  Naturally Gianna was in compliment heaven.

  ‘Did you fuck him?’ Jett asked, as they sat near each other, having their make-up applied.

  Gianna gave a secret smile, which signalled a big fat yes.

  ‘You gotta be shittin’ me,’ Jett said, throwing her a disgusted look. ‘He’s old enough to be your freakin’ grandfather.’

  ‘I was fifteen,’ Gianna said coyly. ‘My first cover for Italian Vogue. Antonio was so famous and so adorable, I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘Adorable, my ass,’ Jett muttered.

  ‘He is brilliant, carino. You will see.’

  ‘Yeah, well, all I’m gonna see is the two of you creamin’ all over each other. Great way to spend the day.’