‘Tell us about Russia,’ Ginee said, sprawling on the bed, legs spread. ‘You ever get fucked in the good ole mother country? You ever taken it up the ass?’
Price was lying on the bed snorting, smoking, mainlining. He was not really listening to any of this. It was Ginee’s idea to torment her.
‘I’m sorry?’ Irena said, staring at the woman with loathing in her eyes.
‘Cut the crap, Irena, we’re all girls together,’ Ginee said. ‘You ever get laid? You look like you never get any. You look real uptight.’
Price surfaced from his drug haze long enough to say, ‘Hey, babe, what’s goin’ on here? Thought we was gettin’ another girl for tonight. You promised me.’
‘Irena was supposed t’ arrange it,’ Ginee slurred, ‘but seems she got a soft spot for you herself, Pricey hon. She wants your fine black body. An’ your fine black ass. Oh, yeah, an’ that fine oversized black cock.’
Irena backed towards the door, immediately realizing that she couldn’t get out because Ginee had taken the key.
‘Step outta your clothes, honey,’ Ginee instructed. ‘An’ stop bein’ so goddamn uptight. You know you’re creamin’ for some action.’
Irena glanced over at Price to see what he wanted her to do.
‘Yeah, yeah, go ahead,’ he mumbled, his eyes glazing over. ‘Chill out.’
‘Mebbe she needs a drink,’ Ginee suggested. ‘Loosen up, for Chrissakes, you’re not a bad-lookin’ fox. Take it all off an’ chug a little drinkie.’
Irena shook her head, which infuriated Ginee. ‘Whassa-matta? You too good for us? You come over from freakin’ Moscow or wherever, an’ now you’re too freakin’ good for us? You wanna work for this guy, you better get with it. Anyway, ’s too late to find us another girl. You’re it, hon.’
And with that, Ginee pounced, pulling at Irena’s clothes like a madwoman.
Irena didn’t know whether to fight back or not. She needed to keep her job, losing it was unthinkable. Would it be such a terrible hardship to sleep with Price? Not if Ginee wasn’t around.
Ginee had already ripped off her bra and sweater, now she was dragging on her skirt. Irena did nothing to stop her.
Price attempted to sit up. ‘Hey, babe; nice tits,’ he said, reaching for them. ‘Real nice.’
She decided that if she was going to do it, she may as well make it memorable. She reached up, removing the pin that held her hair in a tight bun. It came tumbling down around her shoulders. Long brown wavy hair complementing her thin face and porcelain skin – a complete contrast to Ginee, whose skin had a dark black sheen.
Then she picked up the vodka bottle beside the bed and took a long swig, thinking, Why not? Why shouldn’t I have some fun? It isn’t like I haven’t done this before.
Then she was into it. And Ginee was pawing her, hungry hands everywhere, and Price was watching them, cheering the two women on.
As the night continued, she allowed herself to be used by both of them, soon realizing that the thrill of making love to Price was something she’d dreamed about since coming to work for him.
Later, when Ginee and Price fell into a drug-induced sleep, she’d found the key, let herself out, gone back to her room, and hugged herself to sleep, comforting herself because she knew that nobody would remember except her. Tomorrow she’d be just the housekeeper again, someone for Ginee to boss around.
Six weeks later she discovered she was pregnant. She didn’t tell anyone because she wanted to have his baby. If she had his baby, he’d have to take notice of her.
While she waited to give birth, she made up a story, told him she was pregnant by an old boyfriend, and Price allowed her to stay on. ‘You wanna have a kid, go ahead,’ he said, in spite of Ginee’s extremely vocal objections. Ginee kept insisting that he fire her. Price refused.
When she gave birth, the baby was white, which shocked her, because since arriving in America, Price was the only man she’d slept with.
Because of the baby’s skin colour, she knew there was no way she could convince Price he was the father, and yet she also knew that, without a doubt, he was.
She had no choice but to keep her silence. If she said anything, nobody would believe her, and Ginee would force him to get rid of her.
Eighteen months later Ginee became pregnant, and because of this she managed to nag Price into marrying her. A few months after that Ginee gave birth to Teddy. It took four tumultuous years for Price to decide he’d had enough. He divorced Ginee, which as far as Irena was concerned was a good thing: she was convinced that if Price didn’t clean up his excessive drugging and drinking, he’d be finished.
She’d never told anyone the identity of Mila’s real father.
Today there were DNA tests that were extremely accurate. If Mila and Price were tested, they’d be able to tell without a doubt whose daughter she was.
But how could she reveal the truth to him now? How could she tell him, when she suspected that Teddy had been sleeping with his own half-sister?
Oh, God, what was she going to do?
For a brief moment she thought about confiding in Price’s lawyer, but instinctively she knew Howard Greenspan would be no help.
There must be somebody out there who could advise her. But until she found them, the only thing she could do was keep her silence.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Brigette tossed and turned in her sleep before waking with a start, her cheeks flushed.
She was experiencing the same old nightmare – the nightmare that had haunted her for years.
Tim Wealth.
Smiling.
Happy.
Saying, ‘How ya doin’, little girl?’
His dead body lying in his apartment, while Santino Bonnatti stripped off her clothes and did his degrading deeds, abusing her and Bobby.
The gun.
Santino’s gun.
Lying on the table.
Santino, molesting Bobby, his filthy face a smirking mask.
It was up to her to stop him . . .
She’d crawled across the bed, reaching the weapon, Bobby’s screams of terror spurring her on.
With shaking hands she’d picked up the gun.
Santino’s gun.
She’d pointed it at him. Squeezed the trigger.
Santino. Blood splattering everywhere. Surprise and fury spilling from every pore.
She’d pulled the trigger two more times, and he had fallen to the floor without another word.
The memories of that fateful day floated around her brain in vivid technicolour and terrifying detail. Now she had an extension to the nightmare.
Locked in a room.
Carlo and another man coming at her with a syringe.
Days.
Weeks.
Maybe even months.
The pure rush of heaven as the heroin hit her system.
Oh, God! What had happened to her? She was pregnant and desperate to get off heroin. But there was no way she could do it by herself. She needed help.
While they were in America she’d planned on telling Lucky, but Carlo had rushed her out of the country before she’d had a chance. She’d argued with him all the way to the airport to no avail. He’d hustled her on a plane to Europe, far away from anyone who could help her. And when they’d arrived in Rome, he’d taken her straight to his parents’ palace outside the city, where they’d moved into a suite of rooms at the back. He’d kept her away from everyone, although occasionally she bumped into his mother, a granite-faced woman who looked upon her with disapproval.
What a cruel and thoughtless son-of-a-bitch Carlo was. He’d raped her, forced a powerful addiction on her, and trapped her into marriage. Now he thought he had her exactly where he wanted her. And maybe he did.
She knew that, for the baby’s sake, she had to do something about her three-times-a-day habit.
She remembered the doctor in New York who’d told her he could help her, something about putting her on a methadone programme.
‘I have to quit,’ she told Carlo. ‘I know it’ll be tough, but I must do it for our baby’s sake. I need help. I’m not strong enough to do it on my own.’
‘I cannot send you to a clinic,’ Carlo grumbled. ‘People would know, and they would blame me. If this comes out you would be an embarrassment to the entire family.’
‘Carlo,’ she said, pleading with him, ‘you have to get me help. How about that doctor in New York? He can put me in a methadone programme like he said. Can we go back to him?’
It occurred to him that if Brigette was not hooked on heroin, she might try to leave him. But then he thought, How could she? They were married, she was pregnant. There was no way she could leave him now, so he might as well help her, because who needed a drug addict for a wife? Especially as one day she would be the mother of his child.
‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I will think of a plan.’
She nodded, relieved. She was prepared to go through anything to get straight.
A few days later he told her to pack a small suitcase and be ready to leave in an hour.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘To get the help you asked for,’ he said.
She was flooded with relief, hopeful that they were returning to New York.
Instead he drove her to the family hunting lodge several hours away in the middle of sparsely populated countryside.
It was a large, overgrown place, deserted and unused because the Vitti family did not have the money for its upkeep.
‘Where are we?’ Brigette asked, when they arrived. ‘This doesn’t look like a clinic.’
‘That’s because it isn’t,’ Carlo said, unloading canned foods and bottled water into the kitchen. ‘You will be fine here.’
‘Is there a nurse coming? A doctor?’
‘Of course,’ he said, his face expressionless. ‘I have everything arranged.’
‘When will they arrive?’
‘I have to meet them tomorrow, bring them here myself. This place is too isolated for them to find without me to guide them. There is no other house for thirty miles.’
She looked at him with hope in her eyes, anxious for the well-being of her baby. ‘Are you sure this will work?’
‘Yes, Brigette. You wanted help, and I am giving it to you.’
‘Thank you, Carlo,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you so very much.’
Chapter Sixty-Seven
The first day of the trial, Steven was up at five thirty a.m. After taking a shower he called Lina in the Caribbean where she was working on a modelling job.
‘Hello, you,’ she said affectionately, taking the call in her room. ‘This is telepathy. I was just about to pick up the phone, only I thought it was too early in LA and you’d be snoring.’
‘You know I don’t snore,’ he said, delighted to hear her quirky voice.
‘I’ve ’eard a peep or two,’ she said, laughing.
‘What were you going to say to me?’
‘Oh, y’ know, wish you good luck an’ all. An’ tell you I’m on a plane out of here and back to LA this afternoon.’
‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘Only you do know that you can’t come to court with me. The publicity on this trial is outrageous. If they even get a sniff that you and I are seeing each other . . .’
‘Right,’ she agreed. ‘I ’aven’t told a soul.’
‘Somebody showed me one of the tabloids last week,’ he said casually, trying not to sound as if he cared. ‘You and Charlie Dollar walking around the lake at the Bel Air Hotel smoking grass. How do they get those pictures?’
‘Some schmuck lurkin’ in the bushes with a telephoto lens,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘Anyway, that was before you. I’ve got a new motto now.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘BS. An’ I don’t mean bullshit.’ She giggled. ‘BS stands for Before Steven. Nothing mattered Before Steven.’
‘You’re a very impulsive woman.’ A beat. ‘When are you coming?’
‘Now, if I could,’ she said with a dirty laugh.
‘Don’t talk like that, Lina,’ he admonished.
‘Oh, yeah, right. That’s how I used to talk BS.’ She giggled again. ‘You’re really a big old handsome prude, aren’t you?’
‘Enough with the big.’
‘You should be flattered. I was referring to your dick!’
‘Have you got the key I gave you?’ he said, choosing to ignore her ribald comment.
‘I wear it around my neck when I sleep. It sort of reminds me of you.’
‘She’s a romantic too.’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘I used to be.’ He sighed.
‘Do you realize I ’aven’t even looked at another guy since you an’ I got together? It’s the first time I’m not into eyeballing other men.’
‘That’s encouraging.’
‘’Ow about you?’
‘I never look at other guys,’ he said, mock-serious.
‘Glad you ’aven’t lost your sense of humour.’
‘I’ll probably lose it today, sitting there staring at that girl’s face. Jesus! I’m going to be facing the person who murdered my wife – shot her for no reason. What kind of monster is she?’
‘At least they caught her. That’s gotta make you feel good.’
‘Nothing’s good about this whole mess, Lina. Except now, when I wake up in the morning, I thank God I found you. You’ve managed to put a little bit of happiness back in my life.’
‘’Ave you told Carioca I’m comin’ t’ stay?’ she asked curiously, because above all else she wanted his daughter to like her.
‘Yes. She’s excited. Thinks you’re the best thing since fried chicken.’
‘Oooh, did I ever tell you I can make fried chicken?’ Lina said proudly, for she was not known for her culinary skills. ‘I was ’anging with this rap star, and ’e was, like, into cooking. So he taught me.’
‘I do not care to hear what any other man taught you – okay?’
‘Okay,’ she said, laughing. ‘See you tonight. Keep the bed warm. Oh, and, Steven, don’t forget, I’ll be thinking of you.’
He hung up with a thoughtful expression. He hadn’t intended to embark on an affair so soon after Mary Lou’s death, but Lina was something else. She was unique, and once he’d calmed her down, and got her to realize that liking somebody did not mean immediately jumping into bed with them, then they’d been able to take the time to get to know each other.
They’d gone out on three dates before anything had happened. On their second date he’d presented her with an AIDS test certificate, and asked if she’d mind doing the same. ‘Bloody ’ell,’ she’d commented, all haughty and pissed off. ‘Nobody ever asked me t’ do that before.’
‘Which is exactly why I’m asking you,’ he’d said. ‘I have responsibilities. A wonderful little daughter. Not that I’m casting any doubts, Lina, but you don’t exactly come across like a vestal virgin.’
‘Ooh,’ she’d said, grinning, liking him too much to stay angry. ‘What’s a vestal virgin?’
She made him smile, which was a good thing. And once Carioca got used to seeing another woman around the house, she was crazy about her, too. Not that Lina had moved in, she stayed with them when she was in LA. Most of the time she travelled around the world on modelling assignments.
When they’d first got together, he’d reasoned with her exactly the same way he’d reasoned with Mary Lou at the beginning of their relationship. ‘There’s a big age difference,’ he’d warned her. ‘You live a different kind of lifestyle. I have a young daughter, responsibilities. We’re not a good match.’
She’d held his face in her hands and kissed him very, very slowly, her tongue snaking in and out of his mouth. And suddenly none of the differences had mattered.
He reached for the phone and called Lucky. ‘Should I pick you up?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m taking my own car,’ she answered, as she finished getting dressed. ‘At lunch
recess I’m planning to drive over to the production offices. We start principal photography in a few weeks, I need to see what’s going on.’
‘What will you do when you see Lennie?’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m sure we’ll be polite to each other.’
‘That’s a relief.’
‘The thing I’m really pissed about is the way everyone’s being dragged through the tabloids,’ she said, putting on a pair of silver hoop earrings. ‘Jesus, Steven, I’ve tried to live in a very private way, now they’re digging up any kind of dirt simply to sell papers. They’re vultures.’
‘Mary Lou realized that,’ Steven said. ‘She’s an innocent victim, and look at all the trash they’re writing about her.’
‘Yes, and they’re dredging up crap about Gino being a former Mafia boss – which is total bullshit. And me shooting Enzio Bonnatti all those years ago. It was self-defence for Chrissakes. What does it have to do with anything?’
‘Self-defence?’ Steven questioned, his tone quizzical. ‘I was there – remember?’
‘Hey,’ Lucky said indignantly. ‘He tried to rape me. He deserved what he got.’
‘And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was the man who ordered a hit on your mother, brother and boyfriend?’
‘Steven,’ she said, her black eyes glittering dangerously as she cradled the phone under her chin, ‘Enzio Bonnatti got his. Santangelo justice works its own way.’
‘So I found out.’
‘Well, you should know, you were the DA at the time. Talk about fate.’
‘Right. I’ll never forget that day.’
‘Neither will I, Steven.’ She sighed. ‘Neither will I.’
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Flanked by his publicist, bodyguard and lawyer, Price attempted to enter the courthouse. The media, gathered outside, flew into a frenzy. This was the story of the moment, and they were out to capture every single detail. Several helicopters hovered overhead as the press rushed Price. ‘We have no comment,’ Howard said, as the bodyguard pushed a path through the crush.
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