‘Then you can sit at the head of the table,’ she said, giving him a big hug.
Leonardo and she had bonded. Totally inconsolable after the death of his mother, Lucky had been the one he’d clung to. And she had looked after him as if he was her own – which, in a way, he was, because he had Lennie’s blood flowing through his veins, and that was enough to make her love him unconditionally.
They’d given Claudia a very moving and special funeral. The service was read in both English and Italian.
After the tragedy, Lucky had expected Lennie to go into another slump. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d faced life with a new attitude, brushing up on his shooting skills at the firing range and taking up karate.
She applauded his way of handling it. Action gave him back his power and strength, it made him feel good about himself again.
‘I wanna sit at the head of the table,’ Maria said, pouting.
‘Well, you’re not going to,’ Lucky replied. ‘Maybe tomorrow – if you’re very, very, very good.’
‘I can be that!’ Maria said, with a cheeky grin.
‘I thought so,’ Lucky said.
Lennie came up behind her, giving her a warm, sandy hug. ‘How’s my wife today?’ he asked.
‘Your wife is fine. How’s my husband?’
‘All the better for seeing you,’ he said, nuzzling her neck.
‘Honey?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘We have to leave at noon today, everybody dressed and ready. So don’t be clinging to your computer when I say it’s time to go.’
‘Now would I do that?’
‘Yes.’
He grinned and hugged her again. ‘Noon. Washed and brushed. No problem.’
‘Good. It’s not every day we get to go to a wedding.’
* * *
‘You’re wearing it!’ Brigette insisted.
‘I am not!’ Lina replied.
‘Oh, yes, you are.’
Lina took the frilly blue garter and tossed it in the air. It landed in a champagne bucket full of ice.
‘Ooops, sorry,’ she said guiltily. ‘Can’t wear it now, it’s all wet.’
‘So are you,’ said Brigette, frowning. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of something borrowed, something blue?’
‘Yeah, but not that skank bit of tat thankyouverymuch.’
‘You’re impossible!’
‘That’s what Steven says.’
They’d taken over a suite at the Bel Air Hotel and were having fun. The night before they’d hit the town with Kyra, Suzi and Annik, Lina’s bridesmaids-to-be. It had been a double celebration. One, Lina’s bachelor party. And two, she’d finally made the cover of Sports World International and was ecstatic. She was also happy to see Brigette in such good shape. Brigette had cut her blonde hair very short, put on weight and developed a healthy tan.
She seemed at peace with herself, and perfectly content to do nothing for a while, even though her New York agent was begging her to return to work. She’d suffered a terrifying ordeal, and she was taking her time getting over it.
For a while it had been pretty scary. She’d languished in an Italian hospital with pneumonia for almost three weeks before Lucky was allowed to bring her back to America. Boogie had arranged twenty-four-hour guards at the hospital, to make sure that Carlo did not gain access.
Count Vitti had screamed and carried on, until an Italian police official had visited him at the palace and warned him to stay away. ‘Miz Santangelo has important friends,’ the man said. ‘For your own health, do not bother the American girl again.’
Carlo was incensed. The ‘American girl’ was his wife. He would bother her as much as he wanted. In fact, through his lawyers, he would bother her for ten million dollars. Only then would he go away.
It was not to be. Lucky Santangelo flew in and arranged to see him. They met for drinks in the bar of the Excelsior Hotel. He thought she had come to settle. He was arrogant, prepared to go away for nothing less than the ten million. After all, Brigette was one of the richest women in the world.
Lucky drank champagne, made innocuous small-talk, and finally laid ten crisp one-dollar bills on the table. ‘Payment in full,’ she said briskly.
‘What?’ he said, confused.
‘And if you value your precious Italian cock, you will never attempt to contact Brigette again. The marriage will be annulled.’
He’d stared into her dangerous black eyes and known that she was telling the truth.
‘Ask anyone, Carlo. I do not make idle threats.’
He didn’t care to fuck with Lucky Santangelo.
He fled to Sardinia to be comforted by his one true love, Isabella.
Too late. She had married a seventy-year-old industrial billionaire and gone to live in Buenos Aires with her new husband.
Carlo was destroyed.
* * *
Maybelline Browning reported to the authorities everything she knew about Mila Kopistani. She told them how Mila had boasted about shooting Mary Lou Berkeley, and how she’d tricked Teddy Washington into putting his prints on the murder weapon.
She also told them Mila had been threatening her, and that she’d been forced to kill her in self-defence. The result was that by the time she got to court she received only a ten-year sentence.
She didn’t care. She had nothing to live for now that Duke was gone.
* * *
Teddy Washington ended up with eighteen months’ probation, which delighted his dad, whose movie had finally come through. To celebrate, Price planned a trip to the Bahamas for him and Teddy – anything to get away from Ginee, who was constantly turning up on TV, basking in her own personal fifteen minutes of very dubious fame.
At the last moment Price invited Irena to come along. He felt sorry for her. After all, she’d suffered a devastating loss and he could see how depressed and miserable she was.
Teddy was pissed, but so what? Price knew he could do exactly what he wanted, and right now he wanted the company of a woman who put him before anything and didn’t drive him crazy.
* * *
The children walked down the aisle first. Maria, Carioca and Chyna, the three girls in simple pink dresses with daisies in their hair. Then came the boys, little Gino and Leonardo, resplendent in white shirts and black velvet pants.
The assembled guests oohed and aahed in an appropriate fashion.
‘Isn’t Chyna the most adorable little girl in the universe?’ Venus whispered to Cooper, proud as only a mother could be.
‘She needs a sister or a brother,’ Cooper said.
‘Really?’ Venus said, smiling provocatively. ‘Well . . . since I’m between movies, we’ll have to see what we can do about that!’
Sitting behind them, Pia said to Alex, ‘Do you like children?’
‘From afar,’ he answered, glancing over at Lucky, who looked particularly sensational in a red dress. They’d had quite an experience making the movie. Lucky was a hell of a producer, and he hoped, with Lennie’s blessing, they would get to work together again soon.
Pia reached for his hand. He still hadn’t asked her to marry him, but he was definitely thinking about it.
Gino nudged Paige. ‘Get a load of my grandchildren,’ he boasted. ‘Not bad, huh? A bunch of tough little Santangelos. I love it!’
Next came the bridesmaids, Annik, Kyra and Suzi, three gorgeous supermodels who had every man in the place drooling. They sashayed down the aisle in their deep pink dresses, all long legs, delectable cleavage and, for a change, demure smiles.
The maid of honour, Brigette, was right behind them. So glowingly beautiful that it brought tears to Lucky’s eyes. She thought of all her goddaughter had gone through in the last year – the drugs, the miscarriage, her escape from Carlo. It was a miracle that she’d recovered in every way.
Bobby, sitting next to Lucky, his hormones raging, said, ‘Wow, Mom! Brig looks hot!’
‘Calm down, Bobby, she’s family,’ Lucky admonished. ‘You’re h
er uncle!’
‘Don’t get spaced, Mom, just looking. Hey—’ he added cheekily, ‘d’you think I’m too young for one of the bridesmaids?’
Lucky couldn’t help laughing. She was going to have to watch Bobby. He was a womanizer in progress.
Lennie stood next to Steven at the front of the church. He was Steven’s best man and proud of it.
Steven couldn’t keep still. He was nervous and apprehensive. All the time he kept wondering if somewhere, somehow Mary Lou was watching him. And, if she was, did she approve?
Lina appeared, and a gasp went up. She was a vision in a Valentino wedding gown created especially for her, and on her head was a Harry Winston diamond tiara.
Steven stared down the aisle at his bride-to-be and had no doubt he’d made the right decision.
* * *
And so Lina and Steven were married, and the assembled guests cheered, and Lennie went to find his wife and when he did, he said, ‘I love you, babe. And I’ve had this amazing idea.’
‘What idea?’ Lucky said, thinking how much she loved him.
‘Let’s do it again.’
‘Let’s do what again?’ she asked, putting her hand up to stroke the back of his neck.
‘Have another wedding.’
And she smiled and said, ‘Yes,’ and knew that as long as there was life, she and Lennie would be together.
About the Author
There have been many imitators, but only Jackie Collins can tell you what really goes on in the fastest lane of all. From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of the power brokers – Jackie Collins chronicles the real truth from the inside looking out.
Jackie Collins has been called a ‘raunchy moralist’ by the late director Louis Malle and ‘Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust’ by Vanity Fair magazine. With over 400 million copies of her books sold in more than 40 countries, and with some twenty-eight New York Times bestsellers to her credit, Jackie Collins is one of the world’s top-selling novelists. She is known for giving her readers an unrivalled insider’s knowledge of Hollywood and the glamorous lives and loves of the rich, famous, and infamous! ‘I write about real people in disguise,’ she says. ‘If anything, my characters are toned down – the truth is much more bizarre.’
Visit Jackie’s website www.jackiecollins.com, and follow her on Twitter at JackieJCollins and Facebook at www.facebook.com/jackiecollins
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