Goddess of Vengeance (18 page)

‘Uh . . . actually I’m not leaving until tomorrow.’

Another lie. But if it meant seeing Billy again, totally worth it.

*   *   *

Prosecuting a famous actress was an easy road. The woman’s defence team (and there were three of them) were highly paid and totally inept. Denver listened to their weak excuses for the woman’s behaviour, then she swooped in with her witnesses – a series of fed-up sales people and store managers who had been putting up with the actress’s stealing addiction for years.

The jury were unimpressed with the woman’s fame. Too many high-profile people were getting away with – yes – sometimes even murder.

Denver’s immediate boss had told her to go for it with all she had. So she did. And her closing argument sealed the deal. The jury took twenty minutes to come back with a guilty verdict.

Her boss informed her that she’d done a stellar job, then asked if she would care to grab a drink with him to celebrate her victory.

Inappropriate
, she thought.
Why, if a woman is single and attractive, do all men feel the need to make a move?

He was fat and fifty
and
married, plus he was her boss, so why would she even think of putting herself in that position?

She mumbled something about next time. But of course there would be no next time as she was moving on. ‘Sorry, family commitments,’ she added, and made it to her car.

Yes. Family commitments. Introducing her boyfriend to Mom, Dad, and the rest of the Jones clan.

Anticipation was the name of the game.

*   *   *

Danny gave Lucky the word that Max would not be arriving Thursday night as planned; instead she would be getting there the next day.

Lucky was disappointed. She’d arranged dinner with Gino and Paige, and she knew that Gino was looking forward to spending some time with his feisty granddaughter. Gino got a kick out of joking around with Max.

Family. They were always the ones who felt free to change plans at the last minute, never taking into account that everything had to be shifted. Well, Bobby better be on his way.

Lucky called him to make sure.

‘Just getting on a plane,’ he informed her.

‘To Vegas?’ she asked, hoping he might make it for dinner.

‘No. I’m in New York, on my way to L.A. Heading to Vegas tomorrow.’

‘So is Max. Maybe you can fly in together.’

‘Uh . . . I’m getting the Stanislopoulos plane,’ Bobby said, sounding slightly sheepish.

‘
Really?
’ Lucky said, aware that Bobby only used the plane when it was for something important. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘No occasion,’ Bobby answered vaguely. ‘Kinda feel I should use it sometimes, let the relatives know I’m still around.’

The relatives Bobby referred to were his late father’s two sisters and their respective families who were all on the board of Stanislopoulos Shipping and resided in Greece. Bobby wasn’t exactly close to his Greek relatives, America had always been his home. But he was, after all, along with his niece, Brigette, the main heir to the enormous Stanislopoulos Shipping fortune.

‘Okay,’ Lucky said. ‘Then you can give Max and her friends a ride.’

‘Sure,’ Bobby agreed, albeit reluctantly, because he was so not wanting Max and her cohorts on the plane. He’d planned a romantic trip with Denver, just the two of them. However, saying no to Lucky was never an option.

‘I’ll tell Max to call you,’ Lucky said. ‘And if you get here in time, maybe we’ll all have lunch.’

‘Uh . . . not so sure about that,’ Bobby said, trying to come up with a fast excuse. He wanted time alone with Denver before the whole family thing took over.

‘Okay,’ Lucky said. ‘I’ll plan on it and hope you can make it. Fly safely.’

That settled, Lucky went over her Friday schedule with Danny. An early breakfast with Venus, who was flying in late Thursday, then a meeting with Jeffrey Lonsdale and the people who’d wanted to buy The Keys, since they were now apparently interested in investing in future projects. Then the board meeting, perhaps a late lunch with Bobby and Max – if they arrived on time, and finally dinner alone with Lennie.

Ah, Lennie . . . They’d been apart for six weeks, way too long, although making up for lost time was always the most exciting.

Friday night was reserved strictly for Lennie. There would be no distractions. No family. Just the two of them.

She couldn’t wait.

*   *   *

Billy was totally into taking a ride in Lucky’s Ferrari, especially as it was one of the latest models, a Ferrari California – sleek and smooth and definitely kick-ass. He’d recently read up on it, and he couldn’t wait to drive a car that had a top speed of 193 miles per hour. In fact, he’d been thinking of buying one, so this would be an excellent test run.

‘Sweet!’ he said, easing himself behind the wheel.

Max hovered beside the car, nervously biting her lower lip. ‘Uh . . . when should I pick it up?’ she asked.

Billy’s attention was on the Ferrari, not her. ‘C’mon by my house around seven,’ he said, smoothing his hands lovingly over the steering wheel. ‘Maybe we’ll go grab a bite.’

Was that a dinner invitation? Cool!

Billy gave her his address, blew her a distracted kiss and took off at full speed.

Please God
, Max thought as she watched her mom’s car vanish into the distance.
Let Lucky’s precious Ferrari survive the ride. Otherwise I am one dead person.

*   *   *

‘Where’s this Bobby character we’ve heard so much about?’ Denver’s father, Derek, asked in his loud – some would say – booming voice. He was a maverick lawyer and quite used to intimidating people.

‘I told you, Dad,’ Denver explained patiently. ‘His plane from New York is delayed. He’ll be here later.’

‘Will he now,’ Derek said in a tone that expressed deep disbelief.

‘Yes,’ Denver said confidently. ‘He will.’

‘You’re sure about that?’

‘Oh for God’s sake, Dad, it’s no big deal.’

‘Someone’s gettin’ edgy,’ Scott, her favourite brother, singsonged. ‘What’s so special about this dude, anyway?’

‘I never said he was special,’ Denver retaliated, glaring at him.

‘You’re sure as shit acting as if he is,’ Scott said, irritating her even more.

‘Language!’ intoned Autumn, Denver’s mother, a tall imposing woman with grey hair worn in a low ponytail, no make-up, and a penchant for the hippie clothes she’d favoured as a teenager. ‘If you cannot speak properly, then do not speak at all.’

As if on cue, Hanna, Scott’s five-year-old daughter, raced into the room screaming, ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

Scott scooped the little girl up and shook her into silence.

‘Disgusting,’ Autumn shrieked, as Hanna’s seven-year-old cousin ran in with a fully loaded water pistol which he proceeded to shoot at Hanna, who immediately began screaming again.

Pandemonium reigned.

Just another normal Thursday-night gathering in the Jones household
, Denver thought.
They’re all crazy, including the kids.

And suddenly she wasn’t so upset about Bobby not making it.

*   *   *

‘What the fuck?’ Max yelled over the phone to Cookie. ‘You are
such
a douche.’

‘Wassup?’ Cookie mumbled in her best innocent voice – the voice she used when she knew she was in trouble.

‘
C’mon
,’ Max complained, having finally reached Cookie after sending four texts – all ignored. And now – miraculously – Cookie had answered her cell. ‘You ran out on me, left me to clear up a huge freaking mess. You
know
they trashed my house big time, how could you not?’

‘They did?’ Cookie said, maintaining her innocent approach. ‘I didn’t know that, I was busy with Frankie.’

‘Of course you were,’ Max said heatedly, ‘in
my
bedroom. Thanks a lot, you left residue of coke all over my bathroom sink.
And
you used my freaking bed. You’re gross!’

‘What makes you think it was me?’

‘Oh, I dunno, maybe ’cause you an’ Harry are like the only two who knew where I hid the keys.’

‘Forgive me!’ Cookie said, going all pseudo dramatic. ‘Can I help it if I wanted to get laid by my
boyfriend?
’

‘Frankie Romano is
so
not your boyfriend,’ Max scoffed.

‘Yes, he is,’ Cookie argued. ‘Check out RadarOnline and Perez. Our photo is all over the place.’

‘You
gotta
be delusional.’

‘Would I make it up?’

‘Your dad’s gonna freak.’

‘My dad doesn’t give a shit,’ Cookie said matter-of-factly. ‘He’s too busy being his famous self.’

‘Anyway,’ Max said, deciding it was prudent
not
to tell Cookie about her and Billy. Cookie had a big mouth, it was definitely best not to trust her. ‘No Vegas today. We’re going tomorrow morning. I changed our flight.’

‘Hmm . . . about Vegas,’ Cookie ventured, hesitating for a moment. ‘Here’s the thing—’

‘What?’ Max said sharply. ‘Don’t you
dare
bale on me. I’ll freaking
kill
you.’

‘Is it cool if I invite Frankie?’

‘
Why
would you want to do that?’

‘’Cause, duh . . . didn’t I just tell you, he’s my
boyfriend.
’

‘But didn’t
I
just tell
you
Frankie and Bobby aren’t talking.’

‘Then this would be the perfect opportunity for them to chill,’ Cookie said, perking up. ‘Frankie told me that he really misses Bobby. It wasn’t as if there was a huge fight, they just kinda drifted apart. After all, they
were
best friends.’

‘I don’t know . . .’ Max answered, unsure. ‘I thought M.J. was his best friend.’

‘M.J., Frankie . . . they were all kind of a team. An’ besides, it’s
your
birthday party,’ Cookie said, turning up the pressure. ‘Which means that basically it’s up to you whether Frankie comes or not.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes, Max. An’ it’s not as if I ever ask you for anything.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Max objected. ‘All the time.’

‘You
gotta
do this for me,’ Cookie pleaded. ‘Do it, an’ I’ll owe you big time.’

Max weakened. Why not? It wasn’t as if she hated Frankie or anything. And since it was Frankie who’d brought Billy to the party . . .

‘Fine,’ she said at last, adding a stern, ‘Only no drugs – save that for your quality time together.’

‘You’re
such
a star!’ Cookie squealed. ‘Frankie will be like major psyched, and I promise we’ll leave all illegal substances at the door. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ Max agreed, hoping that Bobby wouldn’t be too mad.

Chapter Nineteen

N
aturally Armand chose to blame Fouad for his mother wishing to accompany him to Vegas. Someone had to be held responsible for her infuriating request. Not even a request, more a statement of intent – ‘I am coming with you,’ she’d said in a
take no prisoners
tone of voice.

Damnit! What did she want from him?

Armand was furious, but he’d acquiesced all the same since he’d never been able to say no to Peggy. Whenever he was in her presence he felt less of a man, more of a boy. Unfortunately for him there was nothing he could do about it; it had always been that way.

His childhood memories were not pleasant. A few weeks after his eleventh birthday Peggy had caught him torturing the neighbour’s cat, whereupon she’d forced him to pull down his pants in front of several of her friends, and whipped him on the butt a dozen times with a thick leather belt. He’d barely been able to sit down for a week.

The deep humiliation mixed with the intense pain and the fear of his mother had stayed with him for a very long time. After that, whenever he did anything bad, he made sure she never found out.

On their return trip to the airport, Armand had Fouad alert their driver to stop and pick up Peggy. She sashayed out to the limousine accompanied by five pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage. As usual she was dressed for attention, wearing a yellow Valentino suit, matching Louboutins, her flaming red hair setting off her pale skin.

Armand tried not to breathe in her overpowering scent. The familiar smell sickened him. It reminded him of the time they’d moved from Akramshar to New York, and she’d insisted that every morning he jumped into her bed for a cuddle. The cuddle had involved the feel of her soft breasts pressed against him while her strong perfume had completely enveloped him. He was eight years old and the smell had lingered in his nostrils all day long. Childhood memories did not please him.

‘Peggy,’ he said, greeting her stiffly, using her name because the moment he’d hit his teenage years she’d requested that he no longer call her Mother, claiming it made her feel old, so Peggy it was.

‘Mrs Dunn,’ Fouad said, always polite and proper. ‘It is so nice to see you again. I feel that it’s been too long.’

Armand shot him a disgusted look. How dare Fouad encourage her, make her feel welcome. She was not welcome at all.

‘Nice to see you too, Fouad. Tell me – how is your lovely family?’ Peggy inquired, always gracious.