Dangerous Kiss

by Jackie Collins

  Another corny line. Didn’t he have anything original to say?

  They clinked glasses, and he twisted his arm through hers as they drank.

  Better make sure he doesn’t slip another pill in my drink. Got to watch him every moment.

  ‘You must miss Italy,’ she said, taking a small sip of champagne.

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘Only it seems that when I am with you, I do not miss anything.’

  Oh, God, his lines were getting cornier all the time.

  He moved in to kiss her again. Over his shoulder she glanced at her watch, this had to be timed perfectly. ‘Shall we go in the other room?’ she suggested.

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ he said, delighted that the evening was progressing so well.

  ‘Come,’ she said, taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom, where – very slowly – she stepped out of her silver dress, revealing that all she had on underneath was a flesh-coloured thong.

  ‘Bellissima!’ he murmured, thinking this was moving faster than he’d anticipated. ‘So beautiful!’

  ‘Take off your clothes, Carlo,’ she said invitingly.

  He didn’t need asking twice. Without further ado he quickly threw everything off until he stood before her in his black briefs, erection bulging.

  She lay back on the bed, and he got on top of her. Even though she felt incredibly vulnerable, she knew that any moment now she was going to feel triumphant, because any moment now revenge would be hers.

  As he started to kiss her again, the doorbell rang.

  Saved by the bell! Timing was everything.

  ‘Ignore it,’ he commanded.

  ‘It’ll be the maid to arrange the flowers,’ she said, struggling to sit up.

  ‘She’ll come back later.’

  ‘No, get it – please, darling. Those roses are so beautiful, let’s have them in here while we make love.’

  Hey, if he can be corny, so can I.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, reluctantly getting up. Clad only in his underwear, he went to the door and opened it.

  It wasn’t the maid, it was Fiona.

  ‘Carlo?’ she said, her eyes widening with shock and surprise as she took in his lack of clothes and saw past him to the bed. ‘Carlo. I don’t understand . . .’

  Next to her stood her father. ‘Carlo!’ Leopold bellowed, immediately understanding. ‘What the bloody hell is going on here?’

  Brigette knelt on the bed, holding up the sheet to cover herself. ‘I . . . I’m so sorry, Fiona,’ she said, meaning it, because she had nothing against the poor girl. ‘I . . . I thought Carlo had told you about us.’

  Fiona was in shock. ‘You cow!’ she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You unbearable little cow!’ And with that she turned and ran off down the corridor.

  Leopold glared at Carlo. ‘I will ruin you in this town,’ he roared, before turning and chasing after his distressed daughter.

  Carlo shook his head, obviously stunned. ‘This is impossible,’ he said, a dull red flush covering his face. ‘How could they possibly know I was here?’

  ‘Maybe they had you followed,’ Brigette said, surprised that her feeling of triumph was so hollow. ‘You were breaking it off anyway, you shouldn’t feel too bad.’

  ‘I never expected her to find out like this,’ he said. ‘Never.’

  ‘You have to go,’ Brigette said, getting off the bed and slipping on her dress.

  ‘Why would I go?’ he said, puzzled.

  ‘Because I’m too upset for you to stay.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I have feelings, Carlo. What happened is very disturbing.’

  ‘We will sit quietly and talk about this,’ he said, taking her arm.

  ‘No,’ she said, shaking free and going into the living room.

  ‘Brigette,’ he said, right behind her, ‘you are leaving tomorrow, we must talk.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, finally turning to face him.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Here’s the deal, Carlo,’ she said, savouring every word because this was the moment she’d been waiting for and standing up to him felt good. ‘You just got yourself set up.’

  His ice-blue eyes clouded over. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I invited Fiona and her father here,’ she announced triumphantly. ‘I know what you did to me in New York. You drugged me so you could sleep with me. And, if you thought I was going to sit back and take that kind of behaviour, then you picked the wrong girl.’

  His face darkened with fury as her words sank in. ‘You set me up?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You set me, Carlo Vittorio Vitti, up?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes, Carlo, I did,’ she said. ‘Now kindly put your clothes on and get out. And never try to contact me again. This game is over.’

  ‘You fucking American bitch!’ he snarled, and without warning swung his arm back and hit her so hard across the face that she stumbled and almost fell.

  She could not believe that he’d struck her. It was totally unexpected.

  He went to hit her again.

  ‘Stop it!’ she yelled. She hadn’t reckoned on his violent temper. ‘You’d better get out of here before I call Security.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up, American bitch!’ he screamed, his handsome face a twisted mask of fury.

  She backed away, suddenly scared.

  He went after her, grabbed her in a lock from behind, placed his hand over her mouth and slapped her again. Then he dragged her into the bedroom and threw her down on the bed.

  ‘One word out of your mouth and I’ll kill you,’ he threatened, a wild look in his eyes. ‘Nobody treats Carlo this way and gets away with it. Do you hear me, bitch? Nobody. DO YOU HEAR ME?’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Price did not go for conventional, he preferred his look to be more cutting edge: for Venus and Cooper’s party he chose a black tuxedo with a black shirt, and instead of a satin stripe down the sides of his pants, the stripe was black leather. With his bald head and smooth, dark-chocolate skin, he knew that he looked pretty damn hot. And he felt good too, for that afternoon his agent had sent over the final contracts for his first starring role in a movie. Price Washington: soon to add movie star to his long list of achievements.

  He was psyched.

  His date for the evening, whom he’d be picking up shortly, was Krissie, the no-brain model. He’d decided to take her because she was the best-looking armpiece of all, and as long as she kept her mouth shut he’d be the envy of every man there.

  He checked himself out in the mirror one more time, rubbed a touch of oil on his head to make it gleam, and doused himself in Christian Dior’s Eau Sauvage. Finally ready, he went downstairs.

  As usual, Irena was busy in the kitchen. ‘I’m leaving now,’ he said.

  She didn’t turn around, which irritated him. The woman had spent the night in his bed, the least she could do was pay him some attention and tell him how fine he looked. But no. She was too goddamn busy polishing a silver coffee jug.

  ‘I said, I’m leaving now,’ he repeated.

  This time she turned her head. He threw out his arms expecting a compliment. ‘Like the outfit?’

  ‘You look nice, Mr Washington,’ she said, her face impassive as usual.

  Nice? Fuck that shit. ‘Yeah, well, a man’s gotta try,’ he said.

  You smell like a whorehouse, she wanted to say, but she bit her lip. It wouldn’t do to be truthful, there were certain boundaries she never dared cross.

  Mila wandered into the kitchen and let forth a low wolf whistle. ‘Wow, Mr W – lookin’ good!’

  He nodded in her direction. Truth was he couldn’t stand the girl: everything she said was insincere. He reminded himself to tell Teddy he didn’t want him hanging with her now that they were back in LA. Lately he’d noticed Teddy sniffing around the girl again, and it was best to discourage him before it went any further. Now that Mila had a job, there was no reason for him to s
pend any more time with her.

  Mila threw him a cold hint of a smile. ‘Going somewhere special, Mr W?’

  Irena shot her daughter a look. She did not approve of her talking to the boss.

  ‘A party,’ Price said.

  ‘Someone famous?’ Mila persisted.

  Irena shot her another furious look.

  ‘Venus Maria and Cooper Turner’s,’ Price said, annoyed with himself for bothering to reply.

  ‘Oooh, big stars,’ Mila said, a faintly mocking tone in her voice. ‘Maybe I should give you my autograph book.’

  Maybe I should give you a sharp slap across the face, he thought. And what was with the badly dyed blonde hair? ‘Where’s Teddy?’ he asked abruptly.

  Mila shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘In his room,’ Irena said.

  Price went to the bottom of the stairs and called his son. ‘Teddy!’

  Teddy appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘Whass up, Dad?’

  ‘I’m leavin’ now. You home tonight?’

  Teddy nodded, noticing that Mila was downstairs. If they could only get rid of Irena, they’d have the house to themselves and maybe they could take up where they’d left off.

  ‘So . . . uh . . . behave yourself,’ Price said, waiting for a comment on how he looked. Teddy didn’t say a word. ‘See you later, then,’ Price said, walking out to the garage and getting into his black Ferrari – a recent purchase.

  Settling behind the wheel, he started the car and set off to pick up Miss No Brains.

  * * *

  ‘It’s rude to question Mr Washington about where he’s going,’ Irena said, glaring at her daughter. ‘You’re fortunate he allows you to stay here now that you’re grown.’

  ‘Aren’t I the lucky one?’ Mila said sarcastically. ‘Suppose I should learn to kiss his big black ass – like you.’

  Irena’s eyes signalled anger. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Mila murmured, beating a quick retreat. She never stopped hating her mother. Hating her for many reasons, the main one being that Irena had never been truthful about the identity of Mila’s father. She did not believe it was some old boyfriend from Russia. If that was the case, then why couldn’t she know his identity?

  Irena was full of lies and mystery about her life in Russia before coming to America. She’d informed Mila that her entire family had perished in a train wreck. According to Irena, there were just the two of them. Oh, yes, and Mr Big Star Price Washington and his wimpy son, the jerk with the pussy balls. Mila hated Teddy, too.

  For the last few days she’d been trying to figure out a way she could nail Teddy for the shooting and pick up the reward. One hundred thousand dollars. An astronomical amount. A fortune. The entrée to a new, much improved life. She’d called the cops to make sure the reward existed, now all she had to do was figure out a way to claim it.

  It was a tricky problem, of course, because she’d been the shooter and, apart from Teddy – who didn’t matter – there was only one other person who could finger her and that was Lennie Golden, the survivor. So even though she had Teddy’s prints on the gun, Lennie Golden would identify her, and that simply couldn’t happen.

  How to stop it? That was the question.

  She’d finally come up with an off-the-wall solution.

  Kill Lennie Golden.

  Oh, yes, and how was she supposed to do that?

  For one hundred thousand dollars, she’d come up with something.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The Hollywood Hills mansion of Venus Maria and Cooper Turner was alive with lights and hidden security as the guests began arriving. There was also plenty of security on show – guards at the gate holding clipboards with lists of invited guests, off-duty cops with dogs patrolling the enormous grounds, a few chosen detectives who mingled looking like guests.

  No press. Cooper had been adamant about that, and over the six years they’d been married, Venus had learned to go along with what he wanted. It made life so much easier. After all, she was married to a catch, a confirmed playboy bachelor whom everyone had assured her would never get married.

  Oh, yes? She’d soon changed that misconception. And, after a shaky start, they were now as happy as two people could be, living in the Hollywood fish-bowl. Because it was a fish-bowl. Everything Venus and Cooper did was scrutinized and written about. Once a month the tabloids came out with scandalous stories about how Cooper had fallen in love with his current co-star, or how Venus was sleeping with the latest stud around town. It made a change from the reports that she was supposedly suffering from anorexia, bulimia, or having a nervous breakdown. Or the stories that Cooper had been caught with three strippers in Tijuana – that is, when he wasn’t conducting a secret affair with Madonna, Venus’s biggest rival.

  All the outlandish headlines were pure fantasy, of course. They’d settled for laughing about them – suing cost too much and took too long.

  For their party, Venus had chosen to wear a gold strapless dress that skimmed her incredible body like a second skin. She worked hard at keeping the best body in town; it was a tough daily grind, but worth it.

  Cooper was in his bathroom putting the finishing touches to his bow-tie when she walked up behind him. He studied her reflection in the mirror. ‘You look great, baby,’ he said.

  ‘So do you,’ she answered, knowing that Cooper got off on compliments as much as any woman did. After all, he was an actor and, however famous, all actors were insecure and needed constant reassurance.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Are we ready to go downstairs?’

  ‘If you think it’s cool to be the first guests at our own party.’

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘Oh, and before we go, I’ve got a little something for you.’

  ‘Not now, Cooper,’ she said, with a dirty laugh. ‘Please. You’re insatiable. We’ll do it later.’

  ‘Get your mind out of my pants,’ he joked.

  ‘Why? I like it there!’

  He reached in his pocket and handed her a small leather jewellery box. She opened it. Inside nestled a perfect square-cut emerald and diamond ring.

  ‘Happy anniversary,’ he said.

  ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed, taking it out of the box. ‘It’s fantastic!’

  ‘Does it fit?’

  She slid the ring on her finger. ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘Then, my sweetheart,’ he said, taking her arm, ‘let us go downstairs and enjoy our party.’

  * * *

  ‘You’re late,’ Lucky said crisply, looking strikingly beautiful in a black Richard Tyler evening suit with nothing underneath.

  ‘I don’t even know why I’m here,’ Steven said.

  ‘You’re here because Carioca wants to go to the party, and therefore it’ll be fun for you. It also means you can leave early.’

  ‘Isn’t she staying the night with you?’

  ‘No, Steven. Tonight Carioca is going home with you. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this but your little girl lost her mother, and it would be tragic if she lost her father, too. By the way, you look extremely handsome.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said dourly. ‘I don’t feel it.’

  ‘Can I fix you a drink before we go?’ she asked, walking over to the bar.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Where are the girls?’

  ‘Upstairs, finishing getting dressed,’ she answered, pouring herself a shot of vodka. ‘You should see how excited they are. I’m so glad you changed your mind and decided to come.’

  ‘Venus sat in my office and changed it for me.’

  ‘You should be very flattered that she went to all that trouble.’

  ‘Yeah, it was nice of her to bother.’

  ‘Your friends all love you, Steven. Never forget that.’

  Before he could answer, Lennie entered the room. ‘Good to see you, Steven,’ he said.

  Steven nodded. ‘You too, Lennie.’

  Lucky knew how strained things had been between them, but she was hopeful that tonight
would change everything.

  A few minutes later, Maria and Carioca came running downstairs, all dressed up and extremely giggly.

  ‘You two little monkeys look fantastic!’ Lucky said, grabbing her Nikon camera. ‘Come on, get together. Photo time!’

  Maria threw an arm around Carioca’s shoulders, stuck out her leg and tilted her head, posing like a Vogue model.

  I’m going to have my hands full with this one, Lucky thought. She’s exactly like I was at her age. A true mind of her own.

  ‘Steven,’ she instructed, ‘get in the photo. Stand between the girls.’

  ‘No photos,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Come on, it’s an adorable picture.’

  ‘Yes, c’mon, Daddy,’ Carioca pleaded. ‘Please! Please! Please!’

  ‘Uncle Steven, do it!’ Maria commanded.

  Reluctantly Steven obliged. Lucky took the shot.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Enough. It’s time to party!’

  * * *

  ‘I’m overdressed, aren’t I?’ Lina said, sounding unsure for once.

  ‘You look sensational,’ Max answered, helping her into his Maserati.

  ‘No, I went too far,’ she said, wishing she’d chosen the sleek, black Versace instead of the shocking pink Betsey Johnson.

  ‘Lina, you’re gonna knock everybody on their ass!’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so,’ he said, throwing her a sideways glance. Personally he thought she’d gone over the top with her dress. It was a shocking pink number, with ruffles and frills, short in the front and long in the back. She resembled an overdressed bridesmaid. Fortunately he knew enough about women not to voice his opinion.

  ‘Can I tell people I’m in the new Charlie Dollar movie?’ she asked, extracting a pot of lip gloss from her purse.

  ‘No. Never mention anything until a deal is signed.’

  ‘Got it,’ she said, dabbing more gloss on her lips with her finger.

  ‘What do you care anyway?’ Max said. ‘Everybody knows who you are. It’s the year of the supermodel – and, baby, you’re it!’

  She grinned happily. ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I spoke to Charlie before he left,’ Max said, steering his Maserati into the fast lane.