Dangerous Kiss (17 page)

'That's all right,' she said. 'Now perhaps you understand my need for privacy.'

'I protect every client's privacy,' Horace said pompously. 'Every one of them is just as important to me, whoever they might be.'

'That's nice to know, Mr Otley. Would you care to order breakfast?'

He put on a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and perused the menu, deciding on toast, eggs, bacon, sausages and grilled tomatoes.

'Sounds good to me,' she said, calling room service and ordering the same.

Soon she was picking at her food while Horace stuffed his into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. 'I've got every bit of information you could possibly need,'

he said, between mouthfuls.

'Excellent,' she said, sipping orange juice.

'Carlo Vittorio Vitti. Count Carlo Vittorio Vitti - you did know he has a title?'

She nodded.

'Yes, he's a count,' Horace said, 'although the family has no money.'

'Are you sure?'

'His parents reside in Italy, in a run-down palace outside Rome. They're down to two servants and a chauffeur. Both parents are alcoholics.'

'Sounds like a pleasant family.'

'Carlo was sent to London eighteen months ago.'

'How come?'

'There was a big disgrace in Italy.'

'What was it?'

'Carlo was seeing a twenty-year-old married woman, whose eighty-year-old husband was found asphyxiated in his own garage. The suspicion fell on Carlo.'

'Why? Did he do it?'

'There was talk… scandal. Before the police acted, his father sent him here to London, which, from what I can ascertain, he hates. He's looking for a rich woman. He's found one, but she's not his ideal. However, they are engaged.'

'So he is engaged?'

'She's a dog,' Horace said, chewing on a piece of bacon. 'Need I say more?'

'That's not a very nice thing to say, Mr Otley,' Brigette scolded. 'A woman might not be the best-looking in the world, but she can have a lovely personality.'

'This one doesn't.'

'How do you know?'

'I have my sources,' he said smugly.

'What about photos?'

'Yes. I have some with me.' He bent down, fishing in a battered leather briefcase, producing an eight-by-ten manila envelope from which he slid several pictures.

Brigette inspected the photos. There was Carlo, undeniably handsome in a blue blazer and grey pants, standing with his arm around a short, plumpish woman who was not at all attractive.

'Is this his fiancee?' she asked, hardly able to hide her surprise.

'That's her,' Horace said.

'Hmmm… well, I suppose he could've done better.'

'Not money-wise,' Horace said, with an odd little chuckle. 'There aren't that many good-looking heiresses around.'

Brigette pushed away her plate and got up from the table. 'What else can you tell me about him?'

'He's a loner, his father pays his bills, keeps him on a short leash because, as I said before, they're low on cash. From what I understand, Carlo is waiting to return to Rome when the scandal dies down. Either that or he'll marry this Englishwoman, especially if her father makes him an offer he can't refuse regarding the family business.'

'What's her name?'

'Fiona Lewyllen Wharton. She's heiress to a paper empire.'

'Is there a lot of money?'

'Enough to keep Carlo happy although, from what I hear, she doesn't.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Fiona never stays over at his apartment, nor he at her family home - she still lives with her parents in a house in Eaton Square. But he has been known to send for high-class call-girls at midnight. They visit his apartment, stay an hour, and leave.'

'Really?' Brigette said.

And in her mind she was already forming a plan.

Chapter Thirty two

'We're getting inundated,' Detective Johnson said.

'Anything worthwhile?' Lucky asked, not at all satisfied with the way the investigation was progressing, but trying not to blow her cool.

'We're sifting.'

While he was sifting, Lucky had her own team of detectives going from house to house, questioning all jeep owners within a five-mile radius of the hold-up, showing the sketch artist's rendition of the two suspects. If only Lennie could remember at least one of the numbers on the licence-plate. But he couldn't, his mind was a blank.

With the children safely in Palm Springs at their grandfather's house, and Bobby away in Greece, Lucky made a concentrated effort to spend more time with Lennie, hoping she could persuade him to visit Venus' shrink.

Getting him to agree was impossible: he refused to even consider it.

She held her temper and attempted to go along with whatever he wanted to do.

Eventually, she knew, he would return to being the man she loved.

'That's okay, Lucky,' he said, when one day she offered to accompany him on one of his marathon walks along the beach. 'Truth is, I'd sooner be alone.'

'You would?' she said, somewhat uptight.

He didn't seem to notice her reaction. 'Uh huh,' he said evenly.

'If that's the way you feel…'

'I'm allowed to feel, aren't I?' he snapped.

'Keep it up, Lennie,' she said, her patience faltering. 'You can be alone permanently if that's what turns you on.'

'Is that what you want?' he countered. ' 'Cause if so, it's easy enough to arrange.'

She'd been trying to avoid a fight, but obviously Lennie was heading in that direction - in fact, he seemed determined to get into an argument.

'You're acting like a jerk,' she said. 'Nothing ever pleases you.'

'Can I help it if I prefer to be by myself?'

No, she told herself, staring at him. I will not get into a fight with this man who I love. I refuse to. And he will not goad me into it.

'Have you given any thought to New York?' she asked casually. 'We could go for a long weekend and try to have fun?'

'Fun?' he said, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Mary Lou's ten feet under and you want to have fun?'

'Jesus, Lennie,' she snapped, 'you're really pushing.'

'I'm pushing?'

'This feeling sorry for yourself shit has to stop. How long do you think we can take it?'

'Who's we?'

'Me, the kids, anybody who tries to get close to you. You've shut off, Lennie. Just like you did after the kidnapping.'

'I'm sorry if Mary Lou getting killed is inconveniencing everyone,' he said stiffly.

'The timing was wrong, huh? You decided to dump the studio and sit around having fun, but unfortunately things haven't worked out the way you planned.

And while we're on that subject, it would've been nice if you'd discussed leaving the studio with me before you announced it to the world. Do I make major decisions without including you?'

'So thats what you're burning up about?'

'No, I'm merely saying I remember once before you made a major decision without asking me - and that was to buy the goddamn studio in the first place.'

'Let's not fight, Lennie.'

'Why? You've been following me around for the last six weeks looking for a fight.'

'You are so full of shit!' she responded, outraged that he should be this unfair.

'You're the one who's looking for a fight.'

'No. I'm the one who merely wants to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?'

'Yes, Lennie, it is,' she said angrily. 'You have a life, a family, and a wife. Do you know that we haven't made love in nearly two months?'

'Ah, so that's what this is all about - sex.'

'It's not sex, Lennie. It's about being together and loving someone.'

'I should've known you would have focused on the sex.'

She stared at him as if he were a stranger, because that's the way he was acting. 'If you could remember the goddamn licence-plate number, perhaps we could catch the killers and get on with our lives,' she said, needling him.

'You think I'm forgetting on purpose?' he said, furious.

'No. But you say you thought you saw it, and yet you can't even remember the first letter.'

'That's not my fault.'

'Y' know, Lennie - I don't care to be around you when you're like this.'

'I think I should move out for a couple of days,' he said. 'Get my head straight without you, since I'm making you so miserable.'

'Move out and what?' she challenged.

'Get laid, get drunk,' he said, waving a verbal red flag. 'Who the fuck knows? I'm fed up with you watching every move I make. You're a very controlling woman.

Maybe what I need is some freedom.'

'Screw freedom,' she said vehemently. 'We're married. Being married is togetherness. If it's freedom you want, then let's get a divorce.'

She could hardly believe the words had come out of her mouth. She loved Lennie, they'd been through so much together, yet if he was going to behave like an asshole, she wasn't about to take it.

'Fine with me,' he said, just like that.

Did nine years of marriage mean nothing to him? Was he simply prepared to walk? This situation was getting out of control. But, hey, she'd never been the little woman sitting at home waiting to take crap from some man. She was Lucky Santangelo, and she lived life by her rules. If he was so anxious to go, let him.

'I'm outta here,' Lennie said. 'I'll call in a few days when you've calmed down.'

'When I've calmed down?' she said. 'You've got it wrong, Lennie.'

'No. I can see what's happening here. I'm caught in a trap with you. I'm in prison.'

'You're the one who never wants to leave the beach,' she said heatedly. 'You're the one who sits in the house every day. If it's a prison, it's yours - not mine.'

'So what is it you want me to do, Lucky? Go out with your Hollywood friends -

Venus, Charlie Dollar and that group? They're not my kind of people.'

'Since when? You love Venus, and you've always got along great with Charlie.'

'How come you're not mentioning your close friend, Alex, who's only nice to me

'cause he's got a hot nut for you? And everyone knows it.'

'Now you're really talking crap.'

'You know it's true. Anyway,' he said abruptly. 'I don't want to discuss it any more. I'm leaving.'

'Go ahead,' she said coldly.

And he did. He went upstairs, threw some clothes in a bag, walked downstairs and out of the house.

Lucky shook her head in disbelief. She loved this man. She'd loved him from the moment they'd met in Las Vegas and had an erotic first encounter. And when they'd re-met a year later, she was married to Dimitri and he to Dimitri's daughter, Olympia. What a tangled web. But they'd loved each other - fiercely, passionately. They'd had two children together, and now he'd walked out.

Impossible.

What was she going to do now? Cry?

No fucking way. She was a Santangeio. Santangelos didn't cry.

Besides, as soon as Lennie got his head straight, he'd realize what a mistake he'd made and come running back.

And if he didn't?

Well… much as she loved him, Lucky Santangeio was a survivor. And she would go on - with or without Lennie by her side.

Chapter Thirty-three

By chance Brigette ran into Kyra Kattleman in the health spa at the Dorchester. It was a fortuitous meeting as she'd been thinking about who she could have lunch with, and there was Kyra wearing a bright orange leotard, lifting weights with effortless ease, looking every inch the superjock supermodel she was.

'What are you doing here?' they both said at once.

'I'm on my way to Milan,' Kyra said, in her incongruous squeaky voice. 'Is that where you're headed?'

'No, actually I have business here,' Brigette explained. 'I ducked out of Milan this year.'

'I'm doing the Valentino show,' Kyra said casually. 'Dear Val says he can't live without me. I'm his favourite.'

'You sound like Lina,' Brigette said, laughing. 'By the way, what are you doing for lunch today?'

'Nothing,' Kyra said, with a casual shrug. 'I was planning a bit of shopping 'cause I'm leaving in the morning.'

'Then let's go to Le Caprice,' Brigette suggested. 'I hear it's fun.'

'I love Le Caprice,' Kyra said enthusiastically. 'And we can do the shopping thing after.'

The last thing Brigette felt like doing was going shopping, but she needed Kyra so she rallied. 'Where did you have in mind?' she asked.

'Harvey Nichols - it's such a great store, makes Bloomingdale's look sick.'

'Sure,' Brigette said. 'I'll get us a reservation for lunch. Let's meet in the lobby at noon.'

'Aren't you working out?'

'Of course,' Brigette said, heading for the nearest Stairmaster. Working out was boring, but if she wanted to keep a great body it was absolutely necessary.

Olympia had verged on the plump side; she would never allow that to happen to her.

Things were falling into position nicely. Lunch at Le Caprice with Kyra and, according to Horace, Carlo would definitely be there.

Good. She didn't plan on wasting a moment.

It was raining in New York as Lina made a wild dash for the airport. Early that morning her agent had called to inform her that Charlie Dollar was leaving for Africa on location, and that the only time he could meet with her was within the next twenty-four hours.

'Don't worry,' Lina had said. 'I'll make it.'

Since her assistant was out sick, she'd called American Airlines, booked herself on a flight, and now she was in a cab on her way to the airport. She glanced at the script her agent had sent over, scanning the role she was supposed to audition for.

The cab driver hit a pot-hole, and she abandoned the idea of reading until she was on the flight.

An hour later she was settled in her seat on the plane, and once more began leafing through the script. The part she was up for was Zoe, the girl next door to Teal - Charlie's character. Zoe's description in the script was of a beautiful, exotic model.

Hmm, that shouldn't be too hard, she thought, reading through Zoe's scenes. In the first scene Zoe heads out of her apartment on the way to the laundry room, bumps into Teal, and a mild flirtation ensues. In a later scene they end up in bed together. Nudity required, Lina thought. So what? She'd paraded up and down enough runways in see-through crap - everyone knew what she looked like without clothes, and it was pretty damn spectacular. Besides, all the big actresses were stripping off in the movies, she wouldn't be an exception. No body doubles for Lina: she was prepared to go all the way, especially if she was in bed with Charlie Dollar. He had that Sean Connery/Jack Nicholson thing going for him. He was an oldie but a goodie!