The Santangelos (40 page)

“You’re such a filthy old pervert,” Willow teased, secretly thrilled that he cared enough to be jealous. “What’s it to you anyway?”

“Didja blow him?” Eddie asked, pacing around his office. “’Cause I dunno if I wanna put my cock someplace where Ralph Maestro’s been.”

“Then don’t,” Willow responded, wondering what it would be like to be married to a man like Eddie, a powerful man with all the right contacts.

“Whaddya mean,
don’t
?” Eddie said. He was already sporting a serious hard-on—quite obvious through his tailored custom-made pants.

“I’m here on business,” Willow said, giving him her best serious expression. “Did you find us someone to rewrite Sam’s script?”

“Did
you
come up with my money?”

“You know I will. Alejandro’s promised I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Alejandro this, Alejandro that,” Eddie complained. “The dude’s a sleazy drug dealer. How d’you know you can trust him?”

“I trust him because he wants this as much as I do,” she said tartly. “And for your information, he’s not a sleazy drug dealer. He runs a legitimate nightclub, and he’s always treated me like a princess.”

“Yeah, that’s so he can be photographed with you,” Eddie sneered. “Don’t you get it? The dude’s a fame whore.”

“And you’re not?” she said, throwing him a knowing look. “As far as I can tell, your whole agenting deal depends on kissing clients’ asses.”

“I’ll be running a studio soon,” Eddie assured her. “When that happens, they’ll all be kissing
my
ass.”

“And
I’ll
be starring in all your movies,” she said with a gleeful grin.

“Let’s see what kinda talent you got before I make any promises,” Eddie said.

“You
know
I’m talented,” Willow insisted. “You’ve seen me act. I’ve been in movies ever since I was a kid. I just gotta get another chance to show everyone in Hollywood what I can do.”

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie said, unzipping his pants. “In the meantime, how about showing
me
what you can do?”

“I’m not sure I should indulge you now that I’ve met your wife,” Willow said with a prim shrug. “She seems so … perfect.”

“Perfect my ass,” Eddie snorted, dropping his pants around his ankles. “She’d have my balls for breakfast if she ever caught me. Anyway, she’s not going to, is she, sweet tits? ’Cause you an’ I, we got an understanding, right?”

“We do?” Willow said, not sure what he meant.

“Y’know we do,” Eddie responded, thrusting his penis toward her mouth. She dropped to her knees and took it in, deep-throating him the way she knew he liked.

He groaned his pleasure, pressing both hands down hard on the top of her head, forcing himself even deeper into her mouth.

Willow experienced a surge of power, something she felt whenever she had a man’s precious member in her mouth. Whoever the poor guy was, he imagined he was in control, but no,
she
was the one in control—
she
was the one with the sharp teeth who might easily ruin his life forever. One bite and it could all be over.

Unable to hold back, Eddie came almost immediately. Hearing about Ralph and the things his wife’s movie-star father had done to Willow in bed had turned him on big-time, besides he had a meeting to get to, then dinner at Craig’s Restaurant with Annabelle and another power couple. No time to waste. Eddie was a big believer in getting things done fast.

As soon as Eddie was finished, Willow hurried into his private bathroom, rinsed her mouth, fluffed out her hair, applied fresh lipstick, and returned to Eddie’s office, only to discover that he was already dressed. He was standing there with an impatient look on his face, which didn’t suit her at all. She was tired of Eddie making a run for it as soon as she’d finished blowing him. It was major dick behavior.

“I gotta take off, sugar tits,” he said, adjusting his shirt collar. “Business calls.”

“I’m sure it does,” she answered evenly. “That’s why we should discuss our project and what’s happening.”

“Nothing to discuss until I see the cash,” Eddie responded, determined to make a fast getaway.

“I’ve told you, the money will be here tomorrow.”

“Then we’ll talk. Same time. Same place.”

Willow considered his attitude to be crap, but since he was her only real option, she couldn’t argue.

On the way out of his office, she checked her phone. There was a voice mail from Ralph Maestro, her new admirer.

Where’d you run off to, little lady
? his voice boomed.
Wanna take you to the premiere of my latest movie tomorrow night. Call me
.

Oh yes, she would call him, all right. Appearing on Ralph Maestro’s arm at a big important star-studded premiere would ensure maximum publicity. And right now she was soaking in all she could get.

*   *   *

By the time Rafael arrived back in L.A., he was exhausted. His flight had been bumpy and crowded, filled with crying babies and harassed flight attendants. He drank too much—something he didn’t usually do—and after downing several shots of vodka, he slept badly. Later he awoke with a massive hangover and a sour taste in his mouth.

He was not the same Rafael who’d left L.A. twenty-four hours earlier. This Rafael was a bitter and disillusioned man whose thoughts of a future with Elizabetta and Rafael Junior had been well and truly shattered. Angrily, he kept on imagining Elizabetta in bed with one of Pablo’s hired men, experiencing all the things she should’ve been doing with him.

Whore!

Puta!

He hated her.

And yet … he had to control his hate, for she was in possession of his precious son, and the most important thing on his mind was getting the boy away from her.

He had no more worries about Elizabetta seeing the sex tape Alejandro was holding over his head. Let Alejandro send it to her. What did he care? Elizabetta could watch him make love to a real woman. An American woman. A
famous
American woman.

He got in his car, which he’d left in a parking structure at the airport, and checked his phone. There was a voice mail from Alejandro’s lawyer, Horace Bendon. It was short and to the point. “Your client fired me. You’d better get on it. I think Frankie’s about to make a deal.”

Normally, Rafael would’ve panicked. Today he couldn’t have cared less.

A plan was forming in his head. An excellent plan.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Finally, the call came that Lucky had been waiting for. “We’re releasing your father’s body,” Detective Allan informed her.

She was overcome with a feeling of enormous relief mixed with a rush of pure sadness. “I’ll make immediate arrangements to send a plane,” she said.

“You’d better do it fast,” Detective Allan warned. “Mrs. Santangelo is making noises that the body is hers. And since she’s his legal spouse—or was—”

“I get it,” Lucky said, her sadness turning to anger that Paige would have the balls to try to take control. How
dare
she. Didn’t the bitch understand who she was dealing with?

Apparently not.

The moment she hung up on Detective Allan, she instructed Danny to get her a plane and to fast-track the funeral, which she’d quickly decided would take place in three days. Then she called Paige. They had not spoken since Lucky had left Palm Springs; there’d been no need to.

“Paige,” she said, determined to keep her cool.

“Hello, dear,” Paige said, sounding sassy and full of herself.

“Just to let you know, I will be flying in to collect my father’s body later today.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Excuse me?”

“Although I am aware that you were thinking of having the funeral in Vegas, I have decided that a funeral in Palm Springs is far more appropriate. All of Gino’s friends are here. I am making arrangements now. Naturally, you’ll be welcome to attend.”

Was she kidding?
“
Welcome to attend.” What the fuck?

“Uh, Paige,” Lucky said, attempting to remain calm, “I’m not quite sure that you understood me when I told you that Gino will be put to rest and celebrated in Las Vegas. The family mausoleum is there, and that’s where he will end his days.”

“Yes, I understood,” Paige said airily, as if anything Lucky had to say didn’t matter. “However, things change, and as Gino’s widow,
I
am the one who has the final decision about where he is laid to rest.”

“Is that so?” Lucky said, her tone icy.

“I should also inform you,” Paige continued, sounding even more sure of herself, “that my lawyer has told me that I have every legal right to do whatever I wish with my husband’s body.”

Her lawyer. The bitch was bringing her
lawyer
to the table. Tough shit, because Lucky didn’t give a damn about her fucking lawyer.

“I have a strong suspicion you’re not hearing me, Paige,” Lucky said. “So I do suggest that you listen carefully, because although I didn’t plan on bringing this up, sadly you leave me no choice.”

“I knew you’d be upset, dear. It’s just that you simply have to realize that I—”

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and listen,” Lucky interrupted.

“No need for language,” Paige said with a testy sigh.

“Jesus!” Lucky exclaimed. “Coming from you that’s a laugh.”

“Excuse me?”

“Here’s the deal,” Lucky said. “How would you like me to post an extremely intimate series of photos of you online? How do you think
that’ll
go down with your friends at the country club? Gino Santangelo’s widow, naked, having sex with men
and
women. What do you think
that’ll
do to your reputation?”

“You’re bluffing,” Paige said, her voice faltering. “There
are
no photos.”

“Bluffing?” Lucky questioned. “You think? I’m a Santangelo, a
true
Santangelo. And we don’t bluff.”

There was a long silence before Paige said in a low voice, “I cannot believe that you would actually stoop to blackmailing me. Gino always said that you had no morals, that—”

“Don’t you
dare
talk about what Gino said about me,” Lucky exploded. “You got what you wanted out of your marriage to him, but now he’s gone, and as far as I’m concerned, so are you. Although naturally,” she added sarcastically, “you’ll be welcome to attend the funeral.”

“Why are you treating me like this?” Paige cried out. “What have I ever done to you?”

You took Gino away,
Lucky thought.
You cloistered him in Palm Springs, where you allowed him to get himself shot. And I never liked you and your money-grabbing ways. You were always a bitch.

“We’re clear, then?” Lucky said coldly.

“You’re giving me no choice,” Paige muttered.

“That’s the whole idea, because
I
make the choices now,” Lucky said. “Gino is to be buried in Vegas. My assistant, Danny, will be in touch. Oh—and those friends of Gino’s you mentioned, they’re welcome to fly to Vegas to pay their respects. Just give Danny the list.”

“The photos?” Paige said tightly. “When do I get them?”

“After the funeral,” Lucky said. “They’re all yours.” She clicked off and buzzed Danny. “Is everything on point?”

“Yes, Lucky,” Danny replied. “There’ll be a plane waiting for you at Van Nuys Airport.”

“Call Max, get her back from Europe. And you’d better bring Lennie up to date. Try him at his editing bay, and tell him we’ll all meet in Vegas. And make sure everyone we’ve already contacted knows the date it’s actually happening.”

Danny was overwhelmed with all that he had to organize. Fortunately, he’d hired even more assistants to help out, plus his partner, Buff, was also around. Danny set them all to work finalizing the arrangements he’d already put in place.

Gino Santangelo’s funeral service was destined to be a magnificent affair. A celebration of a life well lived.

Danny would make sure that Lucky was proud.

BOOK THREE

“I wish to meet Britney Spears, Katy Perry, Willow Price, and Lindsay Lohan,” thirteen-year-old Tariq announced to his grandfather King Emir Amin Mohamed Jordan. “Kindly have someone arrange it.”

“I will have whoever you wish flown to Akramshar for your next birthday,” King Emir assured him. “We will enjoy a big celebration.”

“Why can’t I meet them here?” Tariq said, his voice turning into a whine. “You’re a king, and I’m a prince. Surely I can have whatever I want?”

“You can, my grandson, when I say so,” King Emir replied, doting on the boy, his only connection to his son Armand.

Tariq was a fine-looking boy, tall and athletic, with his dear departed father’s strong features.

The king never stopped thinking about Armand, the only son among his many sons that King Emir had truly admired. Armand had left Akramshar and traveled to America with his ex-showgirl American mother at a young age. After attending college in the United States, and with the help of his mother’s new husband, he’d risen to become a real estate titan. Every year, he’d dutifully returned to Akramshar to celebrate the king’s birthday, and to visit Soraya, the wife the king had arranged for him to marry, and the several children Soraya had given birth to. One day Armand had made a solemn promise to his father that when the king passed, he would return to Akramshar permanently, and he would rule the country as was King Emir’s wish.

Unfortunately, that day would never come to pass, for Armand had been brutally assassinated in America, gunned down at the Keys hotel, a property he had been negotiating to buy. And as King Emir had eventually learned, it was all the fault of a woman—a mere woman who’d refused to make the deal with Armand.

Lucky Santangelo. She was the responsible one.

It had taken almost a year involving much planning for King Emir to plot his revenge. Now the time for vengeance was near, and the king was running out of patience with a teenage boy desperate to meet a few celebrity whores. He knew it was time to teach Tariq that women were the cause of all the troubles in the world. In Akramshar they knew their place and they stayed in it or faced dire punishment. King Emir should know, for he had six wives and countless children. None of them had ever dared to disobey him.