Dangerous Kiss (22 page)

'You have to meet my fiance first,' Fiona said, taking her arm and pulling her across the room. 'He's over here. He's an Italian count, you know. We're getting married next year.'

'How wonderful,' Brigette murmured, feeling her heart start to beat rapidly.

Carlo had his back to them as they approached. He was busy talking to a distinguished-looking man and a somewhat bored redhead.

Fiona tapped him on the shoulder. 'Darling, I'd like you to meet my new friend, Brigette.'

Carlo turned around. Their eyes met. He stared at her for a second or two before saying, 'A pleasure to meet you, Brigette.'

'Oh,' she responded, not letting him get away with a thing, 'Carlo-it's you!'

'Me?' he said, trying to warn her with his eyes that he would prefer it if they did not acknowledge knowing each other.

'Brigette,' she insisted. 'You remember - I bumped into you at lunch the other day, and you reminded me of that fantastic night we spent together in New York.'

Fiona looked from one to the other, confused. 'Do you two know each other?'

she asked, her expression sagging.

Carlo shrugged. 'Brigette must be mistaking me for someone else,' he said coolly. 'We have never met.'

'No mistake,' Brigette said, nailing him - although this was only the beginning.

'You're Count Carlo Vittorio Vitti, Fredo's cousin. You came up to me in Le Caprice the other day. Surely you can't have forgotten?'

Carlo gritted his teeth. What a bad coincidence this was. 'Ah, yes,' he said stiffly.

'Of course. Brigette. Now I remember. You were with my cousin, Fredo.' He turned quickly to Fiona. 'I told you about that dinner for twenty people I went to with Fredo in New York. Brigette was one of the guests.'

'Oh,' Fiona said unsurely. 'I don't remember.'

'Small world,' Brigette said, feeling bad because she hadn't expected to like Fiona. And not only did she like her, she felt sorry for her, too.

Still… it was better that Fiona discovered what a two-timing rapist-scumbag-rat her fiance actually was before she went ahead and married him.

'This is a beautiful house, Fiona,' Brigette said. 'Would you mind if I took a look around?'

'Not at all,' Fiona said.

And Brigette turned and walked away, leaving Carlo to explain the situation to his fiancee.

Chapter Thirty-nine

'Hold this,' Mila said, throwing the gun at Teddy.

He caught it, a look of abject amazement on his face. 'You told me you'd gotten rid of it,' he said, thoroughly alarmed.

'I was going to, then I figured it was safer to wait,' Mila explained, giving him a sly sideways glance.

He tossed the gun on to the middle of her bed. 'You gotta get it outta here,' he said, panicking. 'What if the cops come and search?'

'You're so right,' she agreed. 'I will.'

They had just returned from the movies, and Mila had smuggled him out to her room in the back. 'Irena's watching TV,' she'd said. 'The old crow never comes in here anyway. This is my place, an' she knows it.'

He looked around her room, sparsely furnished with just the essentials and bare walls. A tattered red scarf was draped over one lamp, while another faded one hung half-way across the window. Her clothes were piled on a chair, with her shoes in an untidy jumble underneath.

Teddy thought of his own cosy room - walls covered in posters, piles of books everywhere, a large-screen TV; and an Apple computer. Not to mention a stack of CDs and videos, and a radical new stereo. He had everything, while she had nothing. Suddenly he felt incredibly guilty.

'I'm thirsty,' she said. 'Wanna sneak down to the pool bar an' get us a couple of beers?'

'Okay,' he said. 'But you gotta promise you'll dump the gun.'

'I will,' she said guilelessly.

He left her room and hurried to the pool bar, hoping he wouldn't bump into the dreaded Irena.

When he came back the gun was gone. 'What didja do with it?' he asked, handing her a bottle of beer.

'Put it somewhere safe,' she said mysteriously. 'I'll get it out of here tomorrow.'

'Promise?'

'You got it, Teddy.'

Teddy drank from his bottle of beer, surreptitiously edging closer to her. They were a couple now: nothing and no one could come between them.

'I'm tired,' she said, yawning in his face. 'I need sleep.'

'Don't you want me to stay?' he asked, disappointed.

'You've had enough excitement for one day,' she said, yawning again.

'Stop talkin' to me as if I'm a kid,' he said, annoyed that she still treated him with no respect. 'I've proved to you I'm not.'

'Okay, okay,' she said, stifling yet another yawn. 'Don't get your stones in a twist, there's always tomorrow.' As she spoke, she hustled him towards the door, finally shoving him out.

As soon as he was gone, she opened the drawer where she'd hidden the gun, carefully wrapped in a small towel. Teddy was the dumbest shit alive. He had no clue that he'd gotten his prints all over it.

'Oh, Teddy, Teddy,' she murmured. 'When are you gonna wise up?'

Price had a choice: he could stay home and relax, or he could call one of three women he was currently dating.

He thought about them for a moment. There was the actress, black and extremely beautiful in a kind of uptight way. She'd recently gone through a very public divorce, and all the tabloids were telling tales and calling her a maniac.

She was sweet as pie to him, but he didn't want to get involved with another maniac - his first wife was quite enough.

Then there was the very famous white actress, older and hungry. He had a strong suspicion she was only dating him because he was black.

The third prospect was Krissie, an ex-Penthouse Pet with a body to die for.

Unfortunately she was irredeemably stupid. Recently interviewed on TV as to what her favourite beauty aid was, she'd fluttered her long eyelashes and said, 'I simply can't live without my eyelash curlers.' A brain she wasn't, although he had to admit that she used those eyelashes to good effect when giving him a masterful blow-job.

Still, staying home seemed like the best idea of all. He'd have Irena cook him up some fried chicken and her special potatoes, then he'd get into bed and watch a movie. In a few days he was due to play Vegas, and that was hectic time. He got so hyped up after a performance that the only way he could calm down was to be with a woman. Sex was his last drug of choice - that and an occasional joint.

Especially after a live performance.

He wondered if Teddy was home. If he was, they could eat together. Price prided himself on being a good father. He kept a watchful eye on Teddy and didn't let him get up to much. Thank God the only thing Teddy seemed to have gotten into was smoking a little grass. No big deal.

Price wandered into the kitchen, where Irena was busy cleaning out a cupboard.

'What're you doing?' he asked.

'The maids are never thorough enough for me,' she said, scrubbing out the cupboard with a stiff wire brush, exerting herself well beyond the call of duty.

'Isn't that what they get paid for?' he remarked.

'Yes, Mr Washington. However, I prefer to see that everything is perfect.'

One thing about Irena, she kept a spotless house. She also had a very nice ass, which he sometimes took advantage of. She didn't object. In fact, she seemed disappointed if he didn't pay her attention.

As far as Price was concerned, Irena Kopistani was one lucky White Russian.

She lived under his roof, serviced him whenever he felt like it, and got paid.

Other women would pay him for the privilege.

Plus he knew he was a great boss. He'd never complained when she'd gotten pregnant and had a kid, never badgered her with questions about who the father was. He'd noticed that no man ever came around to visit, which didn't bother him at all. Who needed some strange dude sniffing around? He liked the fact that she was all his, available whenever he wanted.

Once a year he raised her salary, which kept her happy, because one thing he knew for sure, he couldn't manage without her.

'Think I'm gonna be eating at home tonight,' he said. 'Where's Teddy?'

'I have no idea,' she said.

'Is he back from the movies?'

'I don't know,' she said, still scrubbing.

'Y' know, sometimes you could talk a little more,' he said. 'You're not exactly the most communicative person in the world.' She stopped her work and looked up at him. I'm your sex slave, she wanted to say. You use me in every way. Now you want me to talk too? But she didn't say a word. 'I will buzz Teddy in his room,' she said, moving over to the intercom.

At that moment, Teddy entered the kitchen. 'Hey, boy,' Price said, pleased to see him, 'how was the movie?'

'Pretty cool,' Teddy said, wishing his father would stop calling him 'boy'. He wasn't a kid any more, he'd proved that today.

'Whaddya see?'

'The Bodyguard.'

'Whitney Houston, huh? Now there's a body I wouldn't mind guarding!'

'Didja ever meet her, Dad?' Teddy asked, just to be polite because, after his mind-blowing experiences with Mila, the last thing on his mind was Whitney Houston.

'Run into her and Bobby at a couple of events,' Price said casually. 'What're you up to for dinner?'

'Nothing,' Teddy said, unable to think of a quick enough excuse.

'So we'll do the father-son thing. You'll eat with me.'

'Yes, Dad,' Teddy said glumly, trapped.

'I'll send Irena out to rent a video. Anything you wanna see?'

'I got homework,' Teddy said. After dinner he planned to go to his room and think about what had taken place that afternoon. Mila allowing him to touch her tits.

Coming in his pants. Jeez! Just thinking about it got him horny. For the time being, running away was put on a back-burner.

'Dining room, seven o'clock,' Price announced. 'Try to be on time for once.'

'Sure, Dad,' Teddy said, making a fast exit.

As soon as Teddy was gone Price began rubbing his crotch. Irena might not be as foxy as his trio of girlfriends, but she sure gave a hell of a blow-job. So maybe later, when everyone was asleep, he'd buzz her to come up to his room. He might even fuck her, give her the thrill of her life.

The truth of the matter was that he enjoyed sex with Irena more than with any of his transient dates. And wasn't that something to admit?

Only to himself, of course.

Irena was his guilty secret, and that's the way it had to stay.

Chapter Forty

They spent the morning making love in Lennie's hotel room.

'This is totally wild and wonderful,' Lucky said, rolling across the bed and stretching luxuriously. 'We should do it more often. I gotta tell you - hotels are dead sexy.'

'They certainly are,' Lennie agreed, stroking her thigh.

She laughed softly.

'What's up?' he asked. 'Did I say something funny?'

'I feel like I'm cheating on my husband.'

'If I ever find you cheating on your husband, you're a dead woman,' he said, mock-threateningly.

Running her fingers lightly across his chest, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, 'Would you kill me, Lennie? Would you really do that?'

'Believe me,' he said sternly, 'you don't wanna try it.'

'Then you'd better remember it's mutual.'

'Right,' he said, laughing. 'Knowing you, you'd cut off my dick and keep it in a jar by the bed.'

'No, I wouldn't,' she said, laughing back. 'I'd drop it down the waste-disposal.'

'You're a dangerous woman,' he said, shuddering.

'Never said I wasn't.'

'I'm starving,' he said, sitting up. 'Shall we order room service?'

'I was thinking that maybe we should go home.'

'Why? I'm perfectly happy here.'

'You are?'

'I get off on hotel living. It's impersonal, kind of like a time-suspension deal.'

'Yes, well, don't forget, we've got three kids to think about. You're a family man, Lennie. Mr Married.'

'Ouch!'

'Is it that painful?'

'Not when I'm with you.'

'What do you want to eat?' she asked, climbing out of bed, searching for a menu.

He lay back, watching her slender body as she crossed the room, naked and still as beautiful as the first time he'd seen her. 'I'll have an omelette.'

'An omelette?' she exclaimed, running a hand through her unruly black hair.

'What kind of girly food is that? I need a hamburger.'

'That's 'cause you've got a voracious appetite,' he pointed out. 'In every way.'

'Then aren't you the fortunate one?' she said, finding a menu on the desk and hurrying back to bed.

'That's me,' he said, grinning.

'That's you,' she agreed, straddling him and pinning his shoulders to the bed, thinking that it was so damn good to have him back. He'd been missing since the hold-up. Now here he was, the Lennie she knew and loved.

For a moment her thoughts turned to Alex. She'd enjoyed being with him last night, but they were just friends. Nobody could ever come between her and Lennie. They were truly bound together.

'When you were kidnapped,' she said casually, 'what did you think about every day?'

He regarded her quizzically. 'You're asking me five years later?'

'You must have thought of something - you can't have just sat there, staring at walls.'

'I thought about you, Lucky,' he said, his face serious. 'You and the kids and coming home. That's all I thought about.'

'And the girl who helped you escape - what was her name?'

'Uh… I don't remember.'

'Yes, you do.'

'I think it was Claudia.'

'Ah, yes… Claudia.' A long beat. 'Did you have any… feelings for her? I mean, there you were, trapped in a cave, and she was your only human contact.'

'Why are you asking me this now?'

'Sometimes I get to thinking about it,' she said slowly. 'I was alone here, I thought you were dead…'

'What are you getting at?'

'I simply wondered if anything happened between the two of you.'

He shook his head. 'Now I know you're crazy.'

'Was she pretty?'