Authors: Jessie Keane
‘It must be so hard for you,’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ she managed.
He nodded, his face creased with sympathy.
‘Sad times. I’m so sorry. But I just wanted you to know that we’re very happy to have Gerda and Layla staying for as long as you like. They’ve both been an absolute delight and we’re looking after them, you mustn’t worry on that score. And if there is anything else we can do, anything at all, just name it.’
Annie stared at him.
‘Mrs Barolli?’ he queried at her stunned expression.
Annie got a hold of herself. Thought of how Layla had loved the yard when she’d seen it, had even craved a pony of her own when she saw the long-limbed, highly strung thoroughbreds taking to the lanes around Newbury.
‘Thanks. That’s . . . great. Does anyone else know they’re there?’
He was looking at her curiously. ‘Only Nico. He said we weren’t to discuss the fact that Gerda and Layla were with us with anyone except you.’
‘That’s good,’ said Annie numbly. ‘Can they stay on for a while longer?’
He gave a laugh. ‘I think you’d have to bribe Jenny with gold nuggets to let Layla go. Of course. Should I get Gerda to phone you?’
‘No. Don’t do that.’ She didn’t want Gerda tipping Max off. ‘Tell her I’ll contact her soon.’
‘Fine. Well. Goodbye, Mrs Barolli. Wish Annabella well for the race.’
‘I do. Does she have a chance?’
He gave her an ironic look. ‘There’s
always
a chance. I hope to see you in the winner’s enclosure.’
Not me
, thought Annie.
Lucco.
But she didn’t say it aloud. She was too stunned by the news that Layla was at the stables. She heaved a deep, secret sigh of relief. Now she knew, she could relax a little. But only a little. Because if she was so foolish as to let this slip out, then Max would know where Layla was and he would leave her to the wolves and go and snatch his daughter away from her. And she
couldn’t
let that happen.
‘Enjoying the races?’ asked a voice behind her.
She turned. It was Lucco, smiling with apparent warmth at her. He looked at Josh.
‘And you are . . .?’ he asked.
‘This is Josh Parsons, who trains Annabella. Josh, this is Lucco, Constantine’s eldest son.’
‘Pleasure,’ said Josh and held out a hand in greeting.
Lucco looked at it as if it might be contaminated. He didn’t shake it.
‘You do know this is a private box? That admittance is by invitation only?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Josh replied with his usual charm and good manners, but Annie could see that he was startled to be talked to like this, and to have his greeting ignored. ‘I just wanted to have a quick word with Mrs Barolli and to offer her my condolences.’
Lucco nodded. ‘Well now you have. Do run along.’
With only a slight tightening of the lips, Josh nodded to Lucco, tipped his hat to Annie, and hurried off.
Annie went to move away too, disgusted at Lucco’s crass behaviour. She didn’t want to be out here, alone, with him. Not standing beside a balcony rail with a thirty-foot drop to the ground below. She went to pass him, but he caught her arm and held her there, trapping her between the rail and his body.
‘I asked you a polite question,’ he said under his breath. He was very close. She felt the pressure of his fingers bruising the flesh of her arm. ‘Are you enjoying the races?’
Annie looked at him like he’d just crawled out from a sewer. Lucco gave her his most pleasant, most snakelike smile. ‘You will answer me,’ he told her firmly. ‘You forget yourself. I am the one you must answer to now.’
‘Yeah, you got some big shoes to fill,’ said Annie, unable to resist goading him, even though she knew it was crazy.
‘And you’ve got a big
mouth
,’ Lucco retorted, his black eyes gleaming with spite as he increased the pressure on her arm. ‘You know what? Sometimes I think I might kiss it. I could, if I wanted. I could have you brought to me gagged and bound, but then you know that, don’t you? Everything my father owned,
I
now own. So sometimes . . . yes, I do think I might rather enjoy kissing your mouth. And then at other times I think I might prefer to have your lips sliced from your beautiful face as a punishment, as the Chinese emperors used to do with concubines who displeased them. I could have it done, you know. Easily.’
‘I’m not your concubine, Lucco,’ Annie pointed out frostily.
‘Ah, but you could be,’ he said.
‘You like frightening women, don’t you?’ asked Annie conversationally, although the pain in her arm was excruciating now. She wasn’t going to give the bumptious little arsehole the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, no way. ‘Is that how you get your kicks with Daniella? I saw the bruises when we were out by the pool.’
He looked at her blankly. But he was forcing her back against the rail, inch by inch.
‘How I conduct my private affairs has nothing to do with you,’ he said coldly.
‘
Affairs
is the right word,’ said Annie, her eyes moving past him to settle pointedly on the glamorous Sophie, her fabulous tan and skilfully highlighted blonde mane of hair shown off to full effect by a shimmering veil of cream chiffon over a micro-mini silk ivory shift that left almost nothing to the imagination – she was bra-less, her nipples completely visible through the sheer fabric. Earlier in the afternoon, she had vanished for half an hour, and Lucco with her. When they had returned to the box, Sophie had that rumpled, flushed look that told everyone they’d just had hasty, hot and heavy sex.
‘Couldn’t you at least keep your playmates at a discreet distance when your wife’s around? Daniella’s trying to be a good wife to you, why not cut her some slack?’
He shrugged. Now she was pressed right up against the rail, it was digging into her back. ‘Maybe I enjoy teasing her.’
‘Yeah, because you’re a cruel son of a bitch.’
‘Do you think that’s what my father did? Kept his playmates at a discreet distance from you?’ he taunted.
‘He didn’t have any playmates,’ said Annie. ‘All he wanted was me. And all I wanted was him.’
‘Ah, but are you
sure
about that?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Such a pity you made a fuss last night,’ said Lucco, smirking at her as he pushed in closer. ‘I like you fighting me, Stepmama, I find it very . . . stimulating.’ He pressed nearer and now she could feel to her disgust that he had an erection.
So it had been
him.
The creep.
‘So are you still playing the grieving widow? Or ready to move on yet?’ he remarked, pushing so hard against her that she knew there were going to be bruises.
Christ, was he intending to shove her over the rail?
She remembered another time when he’d had her over a drop like this – and perhaps this time he wouldn’t shrink from taking full advantage.
Her heart was in her mouth because Lucco really did scare her. Sometimes he acted as though the normal rules didn’t apply to him at all. And she guessed they didn’t. He had all of his father’s power now, and none of his discretion or sound judgement. If Constantine had been a wise Caesar, Lucco was surely a deranged Caligula.
‘You seem very
familiar
with your bodyguard,’ he went on. ‘It’s like you know each other really well.’
Ha! Well, he got
that
wrong. She didn’t know Max Carter at all now. He was like an alien species to her.
‘Shall we slip away together?’ he was murmuring now.
‘What, like you did earlier, with Sophie?’
‘Ah, you noticed? Were you jealous?’
Annie tried to pull away. She couldn’t. ‘In your
dreams
,’ she spat.
‘But I was quick with her,’ he said soothingly. ‘It’ll be better with you, trust me. I’ll be slower. I’ll drive you wild. Now come on – you know you want to. You must be missing it now Papa’s gone . . .’
‘You little
shit
.’
‘What’s going on?’ asked a male voice from behind them. Lucco turned, instantly releasing Annie. Max was standing there, watching him.
‘Nothing at all,’ said Lucco. ‘We’re talking. Private family business.
Not
for the ears of staff.’
Max gave a taut smile.
‘Excuse me . . .’ said Lucco, and pushed past him back into the box.
Annie sagged back against the railing, rubbing gingerly at her arm.
Max looked at her. ‘What was that about?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’ She couldn’t tell Max that Lucco had all but confessed it had been him last night creeping about in her room. Max would want to kick his arse for it, and right now Annie couldn’t take any more aggro.
Still, she couldn’t shake the creepy feeling that if Lucco couldn’t get her into bed, then he’d get her into a box – either one would do. But at least she knew now that Layla was safe. Josh and Jenny were looking after her. The relief was enormous. She hugged the knowledge to herself, held it like a warm blanket on a cold night; no way was she telling Max.
Max handed her the betting slip. Then the race was announced and everyone else crowded out onto the balcony to see it.
Surefire won by a clear head, streaking past the winning post like a chestnut thunderbolt, all the other mounts, including Lucco’s prized black filly Annabella, thundering along in his slipstream. The vibrant hues of the jockeys’ silks and the luxuriantly glossy coats of the horses were a kaleidoscopic blur as they shot past.
‘Oh well,’ said Annie, tearing up her slip and letting the pieces flutter down to the ground far below. Win or lose, she didn’t much care any more.
More champagne was opened. Aunt Gina stood up with tears in her eyes and made a toast.
‘To the best man in all the world – to my brother, Constantine.’
They all echoed ‘to Constantine’ and drank to his memory. Annie was watching Lucco. He’d been slow to lift his glass, slow to say his father’s name. She could see the self-doubt in his face, and thought that maybe he was wondering if he would ever be toasted and called the best man in the world. When he glanced towards her, she gave him a knowing little smile.
Then tea was served, and the afternoon drifted on and finally dissolved into misty rain. Finally, it was time for the party to disperse and go home. It was when the cars were just turning into the drive at Holland Park, the wipers swooshing back the now heavy rain and the headlights slicing into the darkening night, that a woman flung herself sobbing and screaming onto the bonnet of Max’s Jag. It was Rosa.
‘Shut up,’ was the first thing Lucco said when he emerged from his own car to stare at the hysterical woman. He grabbed her arm and shook her roughly. Rosa fell to her knees, gabbling a mixture of Spanish and English. ‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’
The poor woman was incoherent.
‘Fuck it, don’t do that, you’ll only frighten her more,’ snapped Annie, moving in to push him aside. ‘Rosa? What’s happened? Come on, tell me.’
Finally, somehow, the woman managed to get the words out. When she did, they all stared at her in disbelief. And after a few moments, Alberto, Max and Lucco ran off inside, through the house and out to the pool. The women followed behind, more slowly, Annie and Daniella supporting Rosa in a state of near-collapse between them.
The security lights were on at the back of the house, starkly illuminating the sheeting tumble of the rain as it shattered the surface of the pool with a million hard droplets. There was a man’s nude body floating face-up in the centre of the pool.
‘What the f . . .?’ shouted Lucco to the thundering heavens, and Alberto and Max dived in fully clothed and swam out to the body.
They towed Rocco to the side of the pool. Everyone was there in the pouring rain, their fine clothes being drenched; but none of them cared about that. Rosa, Annie, Daniella and Cara stood aside, and so did Lucco. Fredo emerged from the house and helped Alberto and Max to get Rocco out onto the terrace.
He was dead.
Rosa set up a fresh bout of shrieking when she saw what had been done to Rocco, and Annie put an arm around her, told her shush, everyone will hear.
‘Fuck
me
,’ muttered Max as he leaned over the body.
Lightning flashed, searing through the black sky and highlighting in its flickering glare the hideousness of Rocco’s injuries.
Fredo was looking as though he was about to throw up.
Rocco’s eyes were wide open, staring in sightless surprise up at the tumult of the night sky. Where his genitals should have been was a neat, blood-dark hole. Someone had cut off Rocco’s cock and stuffed it into his mouth.
‘Is she all right?’ asked Alberto as he entered the drawing room with Lucco and Max trailing behind him.
Daniella had been violently sick when she’d seen the state of Rocco’s body. Now she was sitting, shivering in her sopping-wet clothes, in the drawing room. Rosa had managed to calm down enough to make up the fire. It was starting to generate a little warmth. Annie was kneeling beside the chair she had pulled up to the fire for Daniella, smoothing back the girl’s drenched hair.
Alberto crossed the room to Daniella.
‘Honey? You okay?’ he asked her, placing a gentle hand on her neck.
She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. ‘It was horrible,’ she said.
‘I know, I know.’
He was smoothing her skin comfortingly, and again Annie was reminded, forcibly, of Constantine and his unexpected tenderness towards her when she had come to him in the depths of despair, pleading for his help.
She stood up. It was painful to think of that. She went and sat beside Cara, Rocco’s widow, who was sitting on one of the big couches looking as if someone had knocked all the stuffing out of her. Tentatively, Annie placed a hand on hers; it was icy cold.
The men had moved quickly to deal with this. Alberto had phoned through to one of the clubs the Barollis owned in the West End. Within half an hour there was a van outside. The police weren’t called and no one even suggested it. This was family business, to be kept inside the family; the power of the Mafia was at work. Everyone understood that.