Dangerous Kiss (2 page)

The movie he was shooting with Mary Lou - a talented and successful actress -

was not for Panther. Both he and Lucky had decided not to provide any opportunity for snide rumours of nepotism. 'If I'm doing this, I'll do it on my own,'

he'd said. And, of course, he'd succeeded, just as she'd known he would.

Tonight she was going to make an announcement at the end of her speech - an announcement that would blow everyone away. She hadn't even told Lennie about it - he would be as surprised as everyone else and, she hoped, pleased.

Only her father, Gino, knew what she was planning to say. Feisty old Gino, eighty-seven now, but still a man to be looked up to and admired.

Lucky adored Gino with a fierce passion; they'd been through so much together -

including many years when they hadn't spoken at all. Now their closeness was legendary, and Lucky always went to him first when it came to making decisions.

Gino was the smartest man she knew, although she hadn't always felt that way about him.

Oh, God! What a checkered past they shared - from the time he'd married her off to a senator's son when she was barely sixteen, to the years they hadn't spoken while he was out of America as a tax exile and she'd taken over his Las Vegas hotel empire.

Gino Santangelo was a self-made man who had power, charisma, and quite a way with women. Women adored Gino, they always had. Even now he still knew how to charm and flatter. Lucky remembered her adopted uncle, Costa, telling her all about the infamous Gino when he was a young man. 'His nickname was Gino the Ram,' Costa had confided, with an envious chuckle. 'That's 'cause he could have any woman he wanted, an' did. That is, until he met your dear mother, God rest her soul.'

Maria. Her mother. So beautiful and pure. Taken from her when she was a child.

Brutally murdered by the Bonnatti family.

Lucky would never forget the day she'd run downstairs to find her mother floating on a raft in the family swimming-pool. She was five years old, and the memory had stayed with her for ever - as vivid as the day it happened. She'd sat by the side of the pool staring at her exquisite mother, spreadeagled on the raft in the centre of the pool. 'Mama,' she'd murmured quietly. And then her voice had risen to a scream, as she'd realized her mother was no longer with her. 'MAMA!

MAMA! MAMA!'

Discovering her mother's body at such a young age had coloured her entire life.

After the tragedy, Gino had become so protective of her and her brother, Dario, that living at home in Bel Air was like being shut away in a maximum security prison. When she'd finally been sent abroad to a boarding-school in Switzerland, she'd immediately rebelled and turned into a wild child, running away with her best friend, Olympia Stanislopoulos, to a villa in the South of France where they'd wreaked havoc and partied nonstop. Oh, yes, those were crazy times. Her first taste of freedom, and she'd lived every minute of it, until a sour-faced Gino had tracked her down. Shortly after that he'd decided she would be better off married than careening around on the loose. So he'd made a deal with Senator Peter Richmond to marry her off to his son, the extraordinarily unsexy Craven.

What a trap that had turned out to be.

When she thought about it, Lucky realized that her life had been a series of incredible highs and lows. The highs were so utterly amazing: her three beautiful, healthy children; her marriage to Lennie; the success of running a major Hollywood studio; not to mention her earlier achievements in Vegas and Atlantic City where she'd built hotels.

The lows were too dreadful to contemplate. First, the murder of her mother, then the brutal killing of her brother, Dario, and her beloved Marco getting shot in Las Vegas. Three devastating tragedies, for which she'd extracted her own form of revenge.

But she had survived. Gino had taught her that survival was everything, and she'd learned the lesson well.

The intercom on her desk buzzed, and her assistant informed her that Venus Maria was on the line. She hurried to pick up. Not only was Venus Maria an adored and controversial superstar, she was also Lucky's best girlfriend.

'What's up?' Lucky asked, flopping down in the leather chair behind her desk.

'Good question,' Venus replied. 'Here's the major problem - I have nothing to wear tonight.'

'Boring.'

'I know you're not into fashion like I am, but I'll be photographed from here to Puerto Rico, and you know I can't look ordinary.'

Lucky laughed: Venus was such a drama queen. 'You? Ordinary? Never?

'Nobody understands,' Venus grumbled. 'The expectations are enormous.'

'What expectations?' Lucky asked, picking up a pen and doodling on a pad.

'I'm a superstar, dear,' Venus announced, tongue in cheek.

'A superstar who's supposed to alter her look daily. I mean - for Chrissake - how many times can I change the colour of my hair?'

'What colour is it now?'

'Platinum.'

'Then wear a black wig. Clone me - we can go as twins.'

'You're no help,' Venus wailed. 'I need assistance.'

The last thing Venus needed was assistance. She was one of the most together and talented women Lucky had ever met. At thirty-three, Venus was not only a major movie star, she was also a video and recording superstar, with legions of fans who worshipped her every move. Everything she did still made headlines, even though she'd been doing it for over a decade.

Several years ago she'd married Cooper Turner, the aging but still extremely attractive movie star. After a shaky start, their marriage had taken, and they now had a five-year-old daughter named Chyna. In addition to the joy of a daughter, Venus Maria's career was going great. Ever since being Oscar-nominated for her cameo role in Alex Woods's Gangsters, she'd been able to pick and choose her roles.

'It's not that simple,' Lucky had replied. 'You have to keep trying. Pick a goal and go for it.'

'I guess that's what you did,' Venus had said. 'I mean, considering you started off with a father who hated you and—'

'Gino never hated me,' Lucky had interrupted.

'Well, you told me he always put you down 'cause you were a woman and he wanted his son to run his empire, right?'

'Ah, yes,' Lucky had said. 'But I soon changed his mind.'

'That's it,' Venus had said. 'You got what you wanted. Now I'm going for what I want.'

Lucky listened as Venus carried on about what her look for the evening ahead should be. She knew that her friend already had her entire outfit planned, but Venus liked affirmation.

'And what are you wearing?' Venus asked, when she finally stopped talking about herself.

'Valentino,' Lucky said. 'Red. It's Lennie's favourite colour on me.'

'Hmm…' Venus said. 'Sounds sexy.' A pause. Then - 'Is Alex coming?'

'Of course,' Lucky said matter-of-factly. 'We're all sitting together.'

Venus couldn't keep the purr out of her voice. 'How does Lennie feel about that?

'Will you get off it?' Lucky said, irritated that Venus was always trying to make a big deal out of her and Alex when there was absolutely nothing going on. 'You know Alex and Lennie are good friends.'

'Yes, but—'

'No buts,' Lucky interrupted briskly. 'Take your fertile imagination and go write another song!'

As soon as she hung up, she opened her desk drawer and took out the scribbled speech she planned on giving. She studied it for a few minutes, changing a word or two.

One final read-through and she was satisfied.

Tonight she was going to shock the socks off everyone in Hollywood.

But, hey - shocking people - wasn't that what her life was all about?

Chapter Three

'Fantastic! Unbelievable! More! More! Give me the lips! Those delectable lips!'

Fredo Carbanado crooned encouragement, his expressive Italian eyes flashing signals of deep lust as they appeared above his camera. 'I get off on those luscious lips. More! Bellissima! More!'

Brigette moved her body sensuously in front of the camera, giving him the exact poses he wanted. She was blonde and curvaceous, with luminous peaches-and-cream skin, enormous blue eyes fringed with the longest lashes, and full pouty lips. Devastatingly pretty and sexy in a child-woman way, her huge appeal had to do with a distinct air of vulnerability.

'Can it, Fredo,' she scolded, adjusting the top of her revealing coffee-coloured lace slip. 'How many times must I tell you? I do not need to hear the riff. Save it for some new little bimbette who'll get off on your phoney bullshit.'

Fredo frowned, forever puzzled that Brigette didn't fall for him like all the other models.

'Brigette!' he said sadly, lowering his camera and pulling a disappointed face.

'Why you always so mean?

'I'm not mean,' she retorted. 'Merely honest.'

'No, you mean,' Fredo said, scowling. 'Mean and ornery.'

'Thanks!' she said tartly.

'But, Fredo, he knows what you need,' the Italian photographer said, nodding knowingly.

'And what might that be?'

'A man!' Fredo announced triumphantly.

'Ha!' Brigette said, shifting her provocative pose. 'What makes you think I'm into men? Maybe women do it for me.'

'Hallelujah!' exclaimed Fanny, her black lesbian makeup artist, stepping forward.

'I'm here! All ya gotta do is say the word!'

Brigette giggled. 'Just f-ing with Mr Charm,' she said sweetly.

'As if I didn't know,' Fanny retorted, touching up Brigette's full lips with a sable brush. 'You have no idea what you are missin'. Women got it goin', girl!'

'Can we turn up the music,' Brigette requested. 'I so love Montell Jordan.'

'Who doesn't?' said Fanny. 'If I was ever considering changin' tracks, that 'd be the man who'd do it for me!'

'And if I made a switch,' Brigette retorted, toying with all of them, 'I'd definitely go for k.d. lang. Saw her at a benefit last week, she has, like, this insane sexual aura. It's almost as if she's Elvis or something.'

'Dyke alert!' screeched Masters, her hair stylist, a skeletal man dressed in a one-piece yellow jumpsuit with spiked hair to match.

'Get out!' said Brigette, giggling again.

She loved the camaraderie of working on a shoot. These people were her family

- even if Fredo was the lech of all time. He was a star photographer, and for that reason she would never dream of succumbing to his somewhat suspect charms, because Fredo could have anyone - and usually did. He went through models at an alarming rate, loving and leaving them like a regular Don Juan.

Brigette watched him as he danced around behind his camera. Fredo missed being handsome on account of an exceptionally large nose, small eyes and alarmingly bushy eyebrows. He was also very short, which didn't seem to faze him because most of his conquests towered over him. Her best friend, Lina, had given her a strong warning. 'Stay away from Fredo,' Lina had said, rolling her saffron-coloured eyes in a knowing fashion. 'That boy fucks an' tells. And in spite of all 'is boastin', 'e's got a tiny little dick! So, girlfriend, you do not wanna go there.'

Lina was an incredibly exotic-looking black girl from the East End of London. At twenty-six she was a year older than Brigette, but in spite of their very different backgrounds, over the last eighteen months they had become good friends.

Brigette recently purchased an apartment in Lina's building, so now they were neighbours on Central Park South.

The fashion industry regarded them as supermodels. The very word

'supermodel' sent them both into paroxysms of uncontrollable laughter.

'Supermodel, my arse!' Lina would exclaim. 'They should catch me in the mornin' with me curlers in! Not a pretty sight!'

'I can vouch for that,' Brigette would reply.

Lina's turn. 'An' 'ow about you with no makeup? You look like a bloody albino caught in some bloke's headlights!'

Unlike Brigette, Lina went through men at an alarming rate. Rock stars were her favourites, but she wasn't averse to any man as long as he was extremely rich and bought her lavish presents. Lina loved receiving presents.

The other thing she loved was trying to fix Brigette up, but Brigette shied away from all involvements. She had a checkered history with men - as far as she was concerned they were all trouble. First boyfriend, young actor Tim Wealth. She'd been an innocent teenager with a crush; he'd been an ambitious man with an agenda. And he'd gotten himself beaten up and murdered - all because of his connection to her.

Next there was the frightening encounter with the Santangelos' arch enemy, Santino Bonnatti, who'd tried to sexually molest both her and her uncle, Bobby, when they were both kids. She'd shot Santino with his own gun. Lucky had tried to take the blame, but Brigette had made sure the truth came out. The judge had pronounced it a clear case of self-defense, and ordered her to check in with a probation officer once a month for a year. After that it was over.

Then there was Paul Webster. She'd had a crush on Paul for a long time, right up until she got engaged to the wealthy son of one of her grandfather's business rivals. When Paul finally came running, she'd decided a career was more important than any man so she'd broken her engagement and concentrated on making it as a model. Unfortunately, one of the first people she'd hooked up with in the modelling world was Michel Guy, a top agent who'd turned out to be a sick pervert, forcing her to perform scenes with other girls, then blackmailing her with the photos. Once again Lucky had come to her rescue. Brigette loved and admired Lucky. She was her self-appointed godmother and a true friend.

Since her disastrous experience with Michel Guy, Brigette had put men on the back burner, suspicious of their intent. And, apart from a brief affair with fellow model Isaac, that was it as far as involvements were concerned.

'Doncha miss sex?' Lina was forever demanding, after another night of passion with one of her retinue of ardent - sometimes married - rock stars.

'Not at all,' was Brigette's airy reply. 'I'm waiting for the right guy, then I'll make up for it.'

Truth was she was wary of any serious involvement. To her, men spelled disaster and danger.