Power Games (15 page)

‘We lose control,’ shouted Leith, over a blast of Jason Derulo.

‘Then we forge on. MoveFriends has grown. It’s time to fly the nest.’

Leith accepted another shot. He removed his glasses and wiped them on the fabric of his shirt. Then he replaced them,
lifted his drink and said: ‘All right. You’ve got yourself a deal.’

By the time Jacob returned to his apartment, he was defiantly drunk. Leaps in business gave him the violent horn. He fumbled with his key card, forehead slumped against the door, and Tawny Lascelles swam into his head. He had to have her. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was a super-fox. He was frantic to nail her.

He would contact his assistant about it in the morning. Nobody refused Jacob Lyle and got away with it. If Tawny didn’t come to him, he would have to go to her.

Inside, he loosened his tie and flopped onto the bed. He grinned, the ceiling spinning, at what a ride life was: a multibillion-dollar enterprise; a treaty with one of the most formidable powers on the planet; girls queuing round the block to suck his famous dick …

Jacob thought of all the entrepreneurs who had approached Leith and him in the beginning, pitching their ideas, anxiously crapping their pants for approval and praying that if a dash of the MoveFriends magic rubbed off on their own initiative they would be made for ten lifetimes. Some of the concepts Jacob had sat through had been nothing short of insane. These days everyone fancied himself as the next big breakthrough. Having the audacity was one thing, but having the means and the intelligence to carry it forward quite another. It was why he and Leith fit so well.

Before Jacob passed out, one such encounter crept into his memory. A couple of years ago now, a kid they had laughed out of the room. A kid they had made cry.

Dark hair, pale skin, a stammer …

That wasn’t why they’d laughed; it was the kid’s blueprint. Jacob would never forget it. A living doll, anatomically precise,
fitted with voice recordings and a library of phrases, some soothing, some sexual, anything you wanted to hear, all you had to do was ask. The doll was a friend when there was nowhere to turn: a robot for the lonely and the lost. He couldn’t decide if it was more spooky or tragic.

Jacob wasn’t proud of his behaviour, but neither did he award it a great deal of thought. He hadn’t got this far by making friends.

He hoped he hadn’t made too many enemies either.

19

Szolsvár Castle, Gemenc Forest, Hungary

V
oldan Cane was drawing his plans.

Slowly but surely, they assumed their dreadful shape. Night and day he strived. He researched every name on his beloved son’s list. He found things out—the basics, the details, the obscure—and in doing so furnished himself with all he needed about the seven: where they lived, their families, where they had grown up, what they wore, what they ate, what they drank, who they slept with, their fears and phobias, their weaknesses, their strengths, their greatest loves and their greatest losses …

No stone was left unturned in Voldan’s pursuit of knowledge.

Before the discovery of Grigori’s box, his life had held no purpose. Now, he had been given a quest. Grigori had offered it to him from beyond the grave.

Avenge me, Father,
he seemed to cry.
Make them pay!

Wind and rain thrashed against the windows of Szolsvár’s Great Hall. A whistling draught in the rafters cried a haunting cry, reminiscent of his lost wife’s moans as she writhed in the throes of childbirth. The ghosts had returned.

Voldan brought his wheelchair to a halt in the centre of the stone floor.

Janika had done the best she could with the mess, but there remained a tell-tale stain if you knew where to look. The fifth slab from the arched window bore a faint, fiery hue. It was where Voldan had crashed, leaping from the same mezzanine as his son and breaking like china, the blood seeping thickly. Only, where Grigori had succeeded in making away with himself, Voldan had failed.

Voldan had been gathered up, a cracked doll, his spine snapped in two.

The wheelchair had been his penance—that, and the appalling beast that confronted him every time he peered into a mirror. For the plummet to stone had not been Voldan’s first attempt on his life. In the early agonies of his son’s demise, he had made an initial, idiotic attempt at suicide by chucking a bucket of acid in his face. His reflection had been too like his son’s to abide—he could meet it no longer.

To be deformed and disabled, what point had there been to his life?

Now, at last, there was a point. The devil worked in mysterious ways. He had been spared in order to carry out this fatal assignment.

Seven deadly sinners …

How he despised them! They were the people who had wronged his Grigori, who had forced his son to see no way out of this cruel, unfeeling world but for the horrible exit he had taken. They had crushed his spirit. They had ruined him.

Mercy was not an option.

Vanity, pride, lust, greed—whatever their crime, one punishment fit them all.

The plot Voldan had conceived was outrageous. It was high risk, and it was high impact. It would rock the world and
shock the masses. It was gloriously evil and resplendently clever. There would be no traces—nothing to lead them to Szolsvár.

He could hear Janika rattling around in the far reaches of the castle, preparing the summons he had so diligently worded, envelopes ready to courier at dawn.

Voldan closed his eyes and pictured the invitations in his mind.

The trip of a lifetime … A charitable cause …

The kind of publicity an emperor alone could buy.

Two months was all. Two months until it began.

20

Las Vegas

‘A
ngela! Dino! When can we expect to hear wedding bells?’

A crowd of press jostled at the entrance to the Parisian. Even at public appearances, galas or business matters for FNYC, the attention had never been this extreme. News of the union had exploded across the media.

Angela Silvers and Dino Zenetti: the golden couple. Engaged.

She pictured the word on a locked bathroom door. ENGAGED. Click and then closed. Bolted in. Trapped.

‘Hey, slow down!’ revelled Dino, in a pressed Ralph Lauren ensemble that was in defiance of the Nevada sun. ‘I only just managed to get a ring on her finger!’

‘Angela, this got serious fast! Was it love at first sight?’

She knew what love at first sight felt like. This wasn’t it.

‘Dino and me,’ she said, ‘it was one of those things. Sometimes it comes right out of the blue and catches you when you least expect.’

It didn’t matter what lies came out of her mouth. Angela was a puppet for these people, not a person. The cameras formed a glittering wall that she stared straight through, her
smile a rictus, Dino’s hand holding tight to hers, cold and clammy.

The Boston house had received bouquets and magnums, congratulations from Donald’s associates and abundant gifts designed to secure allegiance with the world’s newest megadynasty. Dino welcomed the attention, of course. As Carmine’s only son, he had waited to step into his moment. Angela was the prize. Dreams came true.

So did nightmares.

Carmine and her father shook hands, prompting the barrage of press to surge once more. In the background, the spires of the Parisian rose majestically against a bright-blue sky, fountains spraying jets of silver. Tourists swarmed like bees to honey, drawn by the bonus of a rich heiress and her casino-boss fiancé.

‘A happy day for us,’ Carmine grinned wolfishly, ‘and for Vegas.’

Donald supplied more formally: ‘We are thrilled at news of this alliance, and wish these two the best for the future. I couldn’t be prouder of my daughter.’

The festivities over, Dino escorted her back to her suite.

‘Should I come in?’ They reached her door and he leaned in.

‘No. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.’

‘I could keep you company …?’

Angela turned, faced him on a level. ‘Dino, this isn’t what I want. You know that. I will be civil, and discreet, and the nature of our treaty will remain hidden. But I will
not
—now, or ever—be entering a physical relationship with you. Good night.’

Instead of dejection, she met determination.

‘You won’t always feel this way,’ Dino murmured.

‘I know I will.’

‘You can learn to love me.’

‘My position will never change.’

‘Give me six months … Tell me after six months that you don’t love me.’

‘I can tell you now and save us both the time.’

His eyes were hungry. ‘You underestimate me.’

‘This isn’t a game. Try and force me into a corner and I will destroy you.’

He chuckled. ‘Careful. You’ll turn me on.’

‘This conversation is over.’ Slicing her card through the lock, Angela vanished inside her suite.
Bastard!
Who did Dino Zenetti think he was?

She applied the chain to the door, went to her case and removed her Ruger revolver. Men like Dino thought they were entitled to whatever they chose. If he thought for a second that she fell into that category, he could think the hell again.

Peeling open her balcony, she stepped into fresh air. Her hair blew in the warm desert breeze and far below the blare of car horns swam up on the thermals.

Angela gazed at the Strip hundreds of storeys below and wondered what it would take to jump. One foot on the ledge, arms spread wide, a leap of pure faith …

Stumbling backwards, she collapsed, her head in her hands.

What had their lives come to?

Luca had cried when she’d told him. The siblings had met in Boston, gathered at the table they had grown up around, fighting over their mom’s dinners.

‘I can’t believe it,’ Orlando had repeated, again and again, his face leached of colour. ‘It’s not true. I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it …’

Angela lay back. She wished, if only for tonight, to be anywhere else but here. She wished for dreams—dreams of Noah, of the past, of their love, before it all went wrong.
You never forgave me. You said you did but you didn’t.

Was Noah right? Despite the years and the promises and the regrets and the reasons, was she still caught up in a past she couldn’t change? Was she afraid to give herself totally, unconditionally, because it meant too much, because it ran too deep?

It was easier not to feel. It was easier not to care.

She hugged her knees and closed her eyes. Suddenly it was cold.

Noah Lawson wasn’t backing down that easily.

Angela Silvers was his thunderbolt. He had known it since the day he met her—but it wasn’t that simple and he wasn’t that stupid. A kid in his position had nothing to offer. He had to get out of town, make something of himself, get his shit together so he could bring a future to her door and tell her: Trust me, I’ve got this, we’ll be OK. We don’t need your father. We don’t need anyone. All we need is each other.

That was why he’d been taking on the extra work. Stupid to call it that, but he had to make money somehow. Servicing Mrs Mason and all the other housewives, a buck-a-fuck stud who never failed to satisfy, it was all he’d known, the only thing he was any good at. Maybe he was kidding himself hoping to hit Hollywood some day and make an honest living. The more he visited their pool houses and holiday homes, their marital beds and Jacuzzi baths, the more the dream seemed to slip further away.

The women he slept with told him he was special. Noah didn’t feel it. Unless he was with Angela, he didn’t feel much of anything at all.

She would never understand why he did it. How could she? She had never wanted for anything. She had never looked in the mirror and wondered why the hell she’d even been born. And so he hid the affairs. They made him feel dirty, used, unworthy of Angela and her bright smile and her hair that smelled like apples. He wouldn’t make his move until all that was buried and gone. He didn’t deserve to.

Following the altercation with her father, Noah swallowed his pride and showed up at the mansion. The thought of seeing Donald again filled him with anger but he would do it for her. He had reached a decision. He was splitting town, and Angela was coming with him. He could offer her nothing but a one-way ticket and the promise of his heart. Maybe it would be enough. He hoped it would be enough.

But Donald beat him to it. Waiting on the porch was the man himself.

‘I want to see her,’ demanded Noah.

‘She doesn’t want to see you.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Donald smirked. He folded his arms. ‘Stay away from Angela,’ he said, ‘or face the consequences.’

Noah defied the threat. What did he have to lose? What did Donald have to take? Angela was the only thing of value in his life.

‘You can’t tear us apart,’ said Noah. ‘You can’t break what we have.’

‘I already did.’

Noah wanted to hit him. Balled his fists but resisted the urge.

‘You forget I am a powerful man,’ said Donald. ‘I have contacts in this town: people who work for me. Nothing escapes my attention, boy—least of all a sex-crazed worm that thinks for even a second he deserves to touch a hair on
my daughter’s head. I know what you’ve been up to. I know about Veronica Mason, and Cassie Wentworth, and Brenda Dowler, and all the rest. Now, so does Angela.’

Noah raised his fist, drew his arm to strike, but he wasn’t quick enough. A crunch of gravel and Donald’s bodyguard was behind him, gripping his elbow and locking it at his back. A bolt of pain and Noah was forced to the ground.

‘Begging, now, are you?’ Donald taunted. ‘How apt. I’ll give you what you want. Take this,’ he thrust Noah a cheque, ‘and never cross this threshold again.’

Noah was released. Through the shooting pain in his shoulder he absorbed the sum. It was incredible. Enough to forge a whole new life: to split town, to move to LA.