The Santangelos (25 page)

Chris approached the house, pressed the buzzer on the iron gates, and waited. After a few minutes, a female voice came through a speakerphone demanding to know who he was and what he wanted.

“Detective Warwick, ma’am. I simply require a few moments of your time. It’s about the unfortunate incident that took place yesterday.”

“Oh my God!” the woman exclaimed. “I’ve already spoken to the police. What now?”

“Can we speak in person?”

“This is most inconvenient,” she huffed, pressing the buzzer anyway, allowing him to enter the property.

He strolled up the driveway to the front door, where he was greeted by an attractive dark-haired woman with a slight accent.

“Mrs. Yassan?” he questioned.

She looked him over, liking what she saw. “You can call me Christi,” she said.

“Thanks, uh, Christi,” he replied, fixing her with his honest brown eyes.

“I was just making coffee. Would you care for a cup?”

“That would be very nice,” he said, following her into the tastefully decorated house.

They exchanged a few pleasantries before Chris began questioning her about the malfunctioning camera. Immediately, he sensed she was lying. Her eyes refused to meet his, and her skin began to flush a dull red from the neck up. She was definitely hiding something.

“Is your husband around?” he asked.

Her eyes darted nervously around the room. “My husband is away on a business trip,” she said at last.

Chris’s intuition kicked in. Husband away. Perhaps a lover visits. It was no wonder she’d claimed the camera had malfunctioned; she didn’t want anyone seeing the tape.

“Mrs. Yassan—Christi,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “I think there is something you should show me. And please trust me—whatever is on the tape will remain between you and me. That’s a promise.”

*   *   *

Did she really want to find out what was in these two boxes? Would the Richmond file still be in there? The pornographic photos of Marabelle Blue?

Lucky sighed. She didn’t want to know, yet she had to. What if there was something connected to Gino’s murder?

Her hands began to tremble—which was ridiculous, because she was so not a hands trembling kind of woman. Yet at this very moment, she felt vulnerable and apprehensive about what she might discover.

Gino and his fucking secrets. Who knew what he had hidden away.

Just as she was about to open box number one, her phone buzzed. The ID read “Unknown caller.”

Should she answer? Or get on with opening the safe-deposit boxes?

A distraction would be good. Maybe it was Beverly Villiers or Detective Allan with up-to-date information.

“Hello,” she said into the phone.

“Mom? It’s me, Max. And have I got news for you!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“Is something the matter?” Lorenzo asked, reentering the small dressing room adjacent to the photo studio where he and Max had been waiting for Carlo and Dante to finish arguing about what Max should wear and how she should look in the photos. He’d left the room when Max had decided to make a call to her mother, and now he could see that she was upset. “Is it Dante?” he continued. “I warned you about him. He’s a mean one. Do not let him upset you.”

Max had just gotten off the phone with Lucky, and her head was in a whirl. The news she’d heard was devastating. Her grandfather had been shot to death. Her brother had been arrested in Chicago. Now Lorenzo was asking her if anything was wrong.

Yes, something was wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t creepy Dante with his yellow teeth and hooded eyes. She could deal with him, but how was she supposed to deal with the shocking news from home?

Tears started rolling down her cheeks, tears of grief because she’d loved Gino so much. They’d shared a special bond, and the one thing she’d been sure of was that any time she needed her grandfather, he’d be there for her.

Now he was gone. It was an unexpected blow.

As for Bobby, what the heck? He’d been arrested, for
what
? Lucky had refused to say; she’d merely told her not to believe anything she might read or see on the Internet, and that it was all a big mistake.

“I’ll get the next plane home,” she’d cried out to her mom.

“No,” Lucky had said. “Stay where you are. You’re safer there.”

Safer? What did
that
mean?

Then Lucky had gone on to tell her that she should come home for the big funeral service, and not before.

Lorenzo awkwardly placed an arm around her shoulders, attempting to comfort her. “What is it?” he asked. “Is it Dante? Because if it is, we can go above him. We can go to Gabriella.”

“It’s not Dante,” she managed to blurt out. “It’s my grandfather. I just heard that he … he died.”

“I am so sorry,” Lorenzo said, hurriedly handing her a tissue. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” Max replied, dabbing her eyes. “He was very old … but I always expected him to be around.”

“Of course,” Lorenzo said.

“I think I have to fly home.”

“We should tell Gabriella. She will understand.”

“Gabriella will understand
what
?” Dante demanded, appearing in the doorway, a belligerent sneer on his sallow face.

Lorenzo quickly explained the situation in rapid Italian just as Carlo came up behind Dante.

Once again, Max wished she understood what they were saying. A lot of raised voices and angry gesturing was going on. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and be alone with her thoughts. Somehow, from the way Dante was carrying on, she knew this was not to be.

Eventually, after more explosive exchanges, Carlo shooed Dante and Lorenzo out of the room and sat down beside her. “Listen to me,
bella
,” he said in a soothing voice, his hand covering hers. “This family ordeal cannot interfere with your work. You have signed a contract, and Dante—who is a
testa di cazzo
—will force you to honor it.”

“He can’t
make
me do anything,” she said defiantly. “Not if I don’t want to.”

“Ah, it is possible he can sue you,” Carlo pointed out. “There is no doubt he would do that. Anyway,
bella
, this job is too important for you to walk away from. You are destined to be a star,
mio tesoro
.”

It occurred to her that Carlo was right. Becoming the face of Dolcezza was her future, her big opportunity to make it. And if she left … what then?

“Lorenzo tells me your mama says you should not return home until the funeral,” Carlo continued. “We work around that. I speak with Gabriella, she understands.”

“I … I don’t know what to do,” Max said, thinking about how Lucky had told her to stay where she was until the funeral. When would that be? Days? Weeks? No, it couldn’t be weeks; it had to be soon.

She thought about Gino, her macho grandfather. What would
he
want her to do?
Hey, kid
, she could imagine him saying.
You got yourself a job—an’ you’d better damn well do it. You’re a Santangelo—an’ Santangelos don’t quit
.

Suddenly she could picture Gino—old, but still dynamic with his wicked grin and amazing zest for life. Yes. He would want her to carry on; he wouldn’t expect her to sit around with a sad face.

“I guess I’ll stay until the funeral,” she informed Carlo. “Will you talk to Gabriella and explain?”

“
S
ì
, bella
. Carlo takes care of everything.”

“And I don’t want to do any more photos today. It’s too much.”

“I understand,” Carlo said. “We already have what we need. You go to your hotel, you rest, and later, as you know, there is a dinner.”

“I’m not sure I can manage that.”

“Whatever pleases you,
mio dolce
. Although, as you know, this dinner is in your honor. Now I go discuss with Gabriella.”

“Thanks,” she murmured gratefully, thinking how weird it was that this cocky Italian photographer whom she initially couldn’t stand had turned out to be her savior.

“Lorenzo will take you to your hotel,” Carlo said. “I call you soon.”

“What about Dante?” she asked anxiously.

Carlo shrugged and made a face. “Do not worry about him. He is of no consequence.”

And that was that. Crisis solved.

Or so she thought.

*   *   *

Beverly Villiers was no slouch when it came to getting things done. She had important contacts and a team of underlings that she put to work obtaining signed statements from the doctor who had treated Bobby at the hospital; his business partner, M.J.; the doorman at the hotel; the desk clerk; the manager; and anyone else she could think of.

It was quite apparent that Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos had been drugged and set up, and simply because he was handsome and rich and came from a well-known family, there was no reason for him to be treated as if he were guilty of a heinous crime and refused bail.

With friends in the right places, Beverly was able to arrange an emergency bail hearing with a judge who was always available to do her a favor. Not that getting Bobby bail was a favor, although getting a fast hearing was.

Bail was set at three million dollars.

No problem. The bail money was only a phone call away.

Beverly was confident that she could get Bobby out of jail before the end of the day.

She placed a call to Lucky, and waited for the money transfer.

CHAPTER FORTY

After giving it some thought, Rafael came up with a plan that would involve both him and Alejandro making the trip to Colombia. Maybe when he got Alejandro there, he could tell Pablo what was going on, and Pablo would force his precious son to stay. Unfortunately, Alejandro did not warm to the idea at all. “You will go by yourself,” he informed Rafael. “Pablo will listen to you. He always does. And do not forget that if you fail to convince him—”

“If I fail to convince him—what?” Rafael said, stifling his desire to fight back, yet at the same time knowing that the smart move was to smother his fury about the sex tape.

“You
know
what,” Alejandro said, a malevolent gleam in his eyes.

Yes. Rafael knew only too well. Alejandro would relish sending the incriminating evidence to his beloved Elizabetta in Colombia. And Elizabetta would never forgive him, he knew that for sure. She would take his son and disappear, for although she was a caring and kind woman who loved him very much, she was also an unforgiving one. He would be screwed.

“What am I supposed to say to Pablo?” Rafael questioned. “How am I to get him to agree to such an investment?”

“I don’t care what you say—as long as you come back with his commitment. Plus a couple of million dollars in cash.”

“
What?
” Rafael said, quivering with anger.

“You heard. I will need start-up money.”

“Even if Pablo agrees, it is not legal to bring that amount of cash into the U.S. If it was discovered, I could be deported.”

With a malevolent smirk, Alejandro said, “Then you had better make sure it is not discovered, my friend. Shove it up your uptight ass. Nobody will ever suspect.”

*   *   *

By the time Willow got home, she was feeling the need for some alone time. After she’d lured Eddie with her proposition, he’d gotten so excited that he’d said to hell with his dinner plans—then he was all up for another blow job. Naturally, she’d obliged, because Eddie was full of ideas. “Get me the cash, and I’ll get your movie made,” he’d promised.

Cash
was the magic word. Everyone loved it.

She’d sensed it was too early to tell him that she planned on starring in it. Timing was everything. Having his attention was the most important thing.

Back at her house, she was annoyed to discover that Sam’s puppy had crapped and peed in her bedroom to its heart’s content. Picking up dog poop was not on her agenda, so instead she gave Lady Gaga a dish of water, petted her for a few minutes, then fell onto her couch and called Alejandro.

He sounded stoned, as usual. What else was new?

“Come on over. We’ll go to the club and celebrate,” he offered.

“Not tonight,” she replied. “I’m dogsitting.”

“You’re
what
?” he snorted, as if he didn’t believe her.

“When can you come up with the start-up money?” she asked, determined to keep Alejandro on track while she had Eddie’s interest.

“Soon. I’m sending Rafael to Colombia. He’s leaving tonight.”

“Tonight?” she questioned as the puppy jumped on top of her.

“He will come back with what we require.”

Willow pushed the puppy off her, while wondering if Alejandro had shown Rafael the sex tape. If so, what had Rafael’s reaction been?

The way Rafael had made love to her was memorable, even if he’d imagined she was his damn girlfriend. How come she’d never taken note of him before? Now he was definitely on her radar, and as far as she was concerned, another sex session was certainly a possibility. He’d come up with moves Alejandro had never mastered. Best of all, he’d brought her to an awesome climax, something she’d only ever faked with Alejandro and most men.

Hmm … it occurred to her that maybe she should make a list of all the men she’d slept with. That way when she wrote her autobiography, she’d have it down.

No time for lists now, though. The only list she should be thinking of was the A-list. Getting back on it was of paramount importance.

Willow Price was making a comeback. And not a moment too soon.

*   *   *

With no Willow to play with, Alejandro surveyed the available talent at Club Luna. He already had two blondes sitting at his table, but they were hardly a challenge. They’d give him head under the table if that’s what he told them to do. Sometimes easy was too damn easy.

A girl on the dance floor weaving around to Beyonc
é
was catching his attention. He’d noticed her undulating around the night before. He’d been with Willow, so he’d done nothing about her. Licking his lips, he continued to observe the girl. She had a dirty-sexy vibe going for her, a vibe he couldn’t get enough of. After watching her for a while, he had Matias, his driver/bodyguard, summon her to his table.