With Gino out of the country, and her marriage behind her, she tried to forget him and threw herself into solving the problem of the reluctant investors. Costa was a nice man, and a brilliant lawyer, but obviously not a man of action. It was imperative that work on the Magiriano continue and she had to make sure it did, so she went to see Gino’s old business partner, Enzio Bonnatti. Costa had taken her to meet him months before, and they hit it off immediately. At their first meeting he had declared himself her Godfather, and as such she felt she could go to him for his advice and help.
‘Costa will not act,’ she said, after explaining the situation, ‘but I am prepared to do whatever my father would do.
’
Enzio chuckled. ‘Gino never took no shit from no one – excuse my language. You want to be like him, why not? I lend you a couple of soldiers. You frighten the crap outa number one on the list, you ain’t got no problems with the rest. You want I should take care of it for you, my pleasure.
’
She shook her head. ‘Just let me have the assistance.
’
She started off with the biggest investor, paying a visit to Rudolpho Crown, a slick-haired ‘investment banker’. He sat behind a massive desk in his office and leered insolently while she discussed the money he had promised but failed to put up.
‘You gave your promise, Mr Crown,’ she said coolly. ‘You are part of a syndicate. If you try to drop out, others will follow, and then work on the hotel will have to be stopped.
’
‘I gave my word to Gino. And when he comes back I’ll honour it.’
Her voice was very soft. ‘It makes no difference where Gino is. You
gave
your promise. He wants it honoured – now.’
Rudolpho grinned. ‘He’s hardly in a position to want anything. Word is out he won’t be back for a long long time – if ever.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘Risk it, Mr Crown.’
A week later he was wakened at midnight by the touch of cold steel on his balls. He opened his eyes, panic-stricken. Two men were holding knives to his shrivelled penis. He started to scream, to cry, to beg.
He saw a shadow by the door and a woman’s voice said, ‘This is only a dress rehearsal, Mr Crown. If your money isn’t forthcoming immediately, opening night will be next week.’
Rudolpho Crown put his money up – fast. Other investors followed equally fast. The Magiriano was back in business.
Shortly after settling the business of the reluctant investors, Lucky flew to Las Vegas to see for herself the building progress being made on the Magiriano. Naturally enough she stayed at the Mirage. And there was Marco to greet her. She hadn’t seen him since her wedding day.
‘You look sensational,’ he said.
‘You look a little ragged yourself Quickly she worked out how old he must be now: forty-one. His exceptional good looks had not faded at all. He was still the most attractive man she had ever seen, and she burned to go to bed with him.
‘How long are you staying?’ he asked politely.
Just as long as it takes me to get you into bed.
She gestured vaguely. ‘A few days, maybe a week.
’
‘Good. I want you to meet my wife.
’
His wife!
‘How long have you been married?’ she asked, hardly able to catch her breath.
‘Exactly forty-six hours. You just missed the wedding.
’
It took time for Marco to sense the heat of her desire. She stepped back and treated him just like any other employee.
‘I want the Mirage renovated,’ she told Costa. ‘It looks tacky.
’
Marco was furious. ‘What’s going on here?’ he screamed at Costa over the phone when the decorators descended. ‘Get Lucky off my back. She’s disrupting everything.
’
‘I can’t,’ Costa replied simply. ‘She’s the major shareholder. She can do what she wants.
’
Wild with fury, Marco noticed her all right. By the time he noticed her enough to want her, she was businesslike and remote. She had no intention of sharing him with his wife.
Their relationship simmered. Lucky was in and out of Las Vegas watching the work on the Magiriano. There were problems – then more problems. Nothing she couldn’t deal with.
Marco was always around to greet her.
‘Still married?’ she would ask lightly, although her stomach churned with the anticipation that he might have gotten a divorce.
‘Sure am. And you? Still screwing around?
’
‘Give me a better hobby and I’ll try it,’ she drawled jokingly. She knew her casual sex life pissed him off.
One night, when his wife was out of town, he finally made a move. They had dined together, discussed old times, and when she was at the door of her suite, he said, ‘I’ll come in.
’
He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. She desired him more than she had desired anyone in her life. Sweetly, she said, ‘Good night, Marco. Sleep warm,’ and closed the door before she could weaken.
When she had him she wanted it to be for keeps. That’s the way it
had
to be.
As time passed, Lucky worked hard and played hard. She was a resolute businesswoman, demanding and getting the best from the people she employed. She flew back and forth to Las Vegas constantly, noting that Marco remained firmly married. She still wanted him, but it had to be on her terms
.
Very rarely she thought of Gino, whose empire she was taking over. She was building his hotel, realizing his dream – yet they had not spoken or been in touch at all. And that’s the way she liked it. It would suit her if he never returned to America
.
In 1975 the Magiriano was finally completed. Opening night and Lucky glowing in a black Halston dress, Marco resplendent in black tie – the electricity charging between them like firecrackers. The time was right. Somehow the fact that he still had a wife didn’t seem to matter anymore
.
Lucky got through the evening in a heightened state of sexual anticipation. Marco felt the same way
.
Later, they came together in exultant ecstasy. A wild ritual of incredible sex, followed by the release of being with each other at last. It was a joining of soulmates. A fusion of energies
.
Plans were made. He would tell his wife immediately, and arrange a quick divorce. There would be no more separations. Now that it had happened it would be forever
.
When he left her bed in the morning, Lucky knew she had finally found what she had been searching for. A man she could look up to, live with, and love. Marco was everything and more. Marco was her world
.
At 2.30 p.m. that day, as Lucky sat with Costa in the Patio Restaurant waiting for Marco to join her for lunch, she noticed Boogie – her bodyguard – heading swiftly across the room towards her
.
As he approached she felt a chill of apprehension
.
‘There’s been a shooting,’ he said
.
She knew it was Marco
.
She knew it was her future
.
She closed her eyes to pray, but with a feeling of foreboding she knew it was too late
.
* * *
The Bahia lounge was crowded, but a table was made immediately available for the Santangelo party.
Lucky found herself seated beside Dimitri Stanislopoulos. ‘How’s Olympia?’ she asked. Not that she cared, over the years Olympia had never once tried to get in touch with her. They had not spoken since that fateful night in France thirteen years before. Sometimes Lucky read about her in the newspapers, and was bored by the antics of the puffy-looking blonde with too much money and too many husbands. They might have been best friends once, but they were total strangers now.
‘She’s divorced again,’ Dimitri said shortly. ‘For the third time.’
He had extremely penetrating eyes, steel grey, and a deep Mediterranean suntan. His eyes lingered on the wildly beautiful Lucky for a moment, then his showgirl friend-for-the-night tugged on his sleeve and asked him some inane question.
Lucky turned to Gino, but his attention was on Susan. She thought she might leave, but decided to stay for the comedian who was adjusting the mike and opening with a few deadpan comments on the day’s news.
A ripple of laughter drifted through the room. He was quick to grab the audience’s attention; an audience more attuned to discussing their losses and/or wins rather than listening to a stream of jokes.
He didn’t tell jokes. He commented on life.
He was cutting, satirical, and painfully truthful.
‘What’s his name?’ Lucky asked Matt.
‘Lennie Golden. You like him?’
‘Not bad.’
Matt smiled. Jess had come up with a winner, thank Christ. He had taken a risk booking the guy just because she wanted him to. But he had the hots for little Jess, and now he’d done her a favour, wasn’t it about time she returned the compliment? It was funny really, he had never liked short girls, always gone for the statuesque type. However, five foot nothing Jess had him under her spell. He wanted to get her into bed in the worst way.
Halfway through Lennie Golden’s performance Gino leaned over to Lucky and said, ‘Susan’s tired. I’m taking her home. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.’
He helped Susan from her seat.
For a moment Lucky was speechless.
Her
evening with
her
father, and he was taking Grace Kelly home. Shit!
‘Goodnight, dear. So nice meeting you,’ said Susan.
Was it her imagination or was there the glint of triumph in Susan’s icy blues? Lucky manufactured yet another smile. Better to charm the enemy than to kick them in the teeth. ‘Nice meeting
you
.’
After they left, Lucky was too restless to sit still. She was annoyed
she
hadn’t made the first exit. Let Gino see how much it mattered if he wanted to ruin their evening together.
She glanced at the comedian, still getting laughs; noted Dimitri’s strong hand on the thigh of his date; hated the way Matt Traynor waved the front of his silver hair.
Fuck ’em. What a dull group.
‘I’ll be back,’ she whispered, although she had no intention of returning.
Outside the lounge the huge casino rocked with action. She cruised around for a while, greeting staff, watching the pit bosses keeping a sharp eye on the croupiers, noting the paying customers in their weird and wonderful outfits. Where else would you see Bermuda shorts beside Balmain? Halter tops next to Halston tuxedos? Hookers and housewives, playboys and punters.
I want to get laid
, she thought.
Oh God, do I want to get laid
.
She went to the front desk and selected the keys to an empty suite. Then she started to cruise. It couldn’t be just anybody. There had to be a certain sexual chemistry. After all, it had been a long time.
There was a man playing alone at a roulette table. He was dark, moody-looking. He reminded her of Marco.
No!
Abruptly she turned away.
She felt lonely. What she needed was anonymous sex with an anonymous lover who would give her what she wanted, then just quietly disappear.
A hand gripped her by the arm. A voice said accusingly, ‘You walked out on me. What’s the matter with you? Don’t you appreciate exceptional talent when you see it?’
She turned, hesitated for only a second, then smiled dazzlingly. ‘Lennie Golden,’ she said. ‘You’re just the man I’m looking for.’
New York in the summer was not Olympia’s favourite place. Too hot, crowded, and dirty. She tried to visit as little as possible, but there were times when she had to make the trip. And her mother’s third wedding was one of them.
She travelled by Concorde from Paris with her nine-year-old daughter, Brigette, and the girl’s English nanny, Mabel. Brigette was a pretty child. She had inherited her mother’s thick blonde hair and blue eyes, and her father’s patrician features and lithe body. She had also inherited Olympia’s wilful streak.
Nanny Mabel was a frustrated fifty-year-old woman, who after thirty-five years of ‘service’ considered she had wasted her life looking after other people’s children. Olympia was the latest in a long line of wealthy employers, and although she had only worked for her for six months, she had grown to loathe the capricious blonde heiress. The child was not much better. Spoilt, selfish and destructive. A miniature version of her mother. Fortunately, the money more than compensated, and Nanny Mabel also enjoyed the limousines, private planes, and first-class service. When in Paris, Olympia rarely visited what she referred to as the ‘nursery floor’ in her duplex apartment on the Avenue Foch, so Nanny Mabel hardly had to put up with her at all.