Deadly Embrace by Jackie Collins (ebook reader for manga TXT) 📕

He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Are you trying to make me feel guilty?’

‘Take it any way you want,’ she said, tossing back her long blonde hair.

He obviously took it to heart, because he spent every minute with his two children, and when he departed, Dani realized it was the first time he’d come to Vegas and they had not made love.

After he left she was depressed. Perhaps Dean had been right all these years. Was it possible that Michael was using her?

She decided it was time to make some changes. Sofia was growing up fast, Vincent was long gone from the house, living in his own apartment, and it was prudent to start thinking about her future. She needed a career, something to do with her time. She could hardly go back to being a showgirl; she was too old–and besides, the idea did not appeal to her.

Vincent had asked her to help with the design concept of the hotel, and that was interesting and fun. Maybe when that job was completed she could get into the PR side. She knew plenty about publicity and how to present things.

Yes, that was it. She decided she’d ask Vincent and Nando if she could handle special events at the hotel.

At least it would take her mind off Michael.

Chapter Fifty-two

Michael and Madison: 2000

One day Michael came home and discovered that Stella was gone. Just like that. The house in Connecticut was empty. Her clothes were gone. She’d emptied the safe of her jewellery. And that was it. No note. Nothing.

He was not surprised, although when he discovered she’d run off with a twenty-six-year-old struggling artist, his ego was slightly deflated. Only slightly, because what really pissed him off was that she obviously didn’t give a shit about Madison’s reaction. Which meant that she didn’t care if Madison discovered the truth.

Now he’d have to tell Madison. Whether he liked it or not, the time had come.

First he’d have to summon the courage, and that was not going to be easy. It might take a while.

A few days later, sitting round in Vito Giovanni’s old brownstone drinking Jack Daniel’s on the rocks, Michael felt as if he was a kid again. He felt melancholy, too, because Vito was in extremely bad shape. The old man had lost about fifty pounds and was a skeletal figure. It was upsetting to see him that way. His jaw seemed to have caved in, his eyes were hollow, and his paper-white hands shook uncontrollably. Now his favourite armchair completely enveloped him.

‘You’re lookin’ good, Vito,’ Michael lied, knowing how vain Vito was.

‘You always was a lousy liar,’ Vito replied, indulging in a vigorous coughing fit. ‘I’m a sick old man. I ain’t got much longer.’

He’d been suffering from prostate cancer for the last three years. Chemotherapy and radiation treatments had completely debilitated him, but he still knew how to bitch. And bitch he did–about his treatments, his doctors, the hospitals and the nurses. The only person he had a good word for was his wife, the former stripper Western Pussy, now officially Western Giovanni.

Western was a cheery soul who obviously made him very happy. Unlike Vito’s former wife Mamie, Western did not have a bitter bone in her body. Oblivious to criticism, she sailed through life with her 46D boobs and her cheery smile.

‘How’s my baby boy?’ she said, sweeping into the room, smelling of cheap scent and pizza. Western never had learned to spend Vito’s money: she still preferred the small pleasures in life.

‘Didya say hello to Michael?’ Vito asked, coughing again.

‘I always say hello to your handsome friend. How’s it shakin’, Michael?’

‘I’m good, Western. How about you?’

‘Can’t complain.’ She turned to her ailing husband. ‘Look what I bought you in the sale at Bloomingdale’s, honeybunch,’ she said, digging into her shopping bag and producing a most unsuitable pink V-neck sweater. She waved it in front of him. ‘It’s cashmere,’ she said reverently. ‘So soft and cuddly.’

‘That’s nice, babe,’ Vito said. ‘Now run along. Me an’ Michael got business to discuss.’

‘Business at your age,’ she scolded. ‘You gotta give it up, Vito.’

‘Scram,’ he said affectionately.

She blew him a kiss and left the room.

Vito turned to his nurse who was sitting in the corner. ‘Wait outside,’ he commanded.

‘But Mr Giovanni—’

‘Go!’ The woman went. ‘They try to keep me in bed,’ Vito confided. ‘I ain’t havin’ that shit. I’m no fuckin’ invalid. I got prostate cancer. Big fuckin’ deal.’

‘I guess they feel you should get plenty of rest,’ Michael offered.

‘Rest for what?’ Vito demanded. ‘My fuckin’ grave?’

‘Look, Vito, I’m glad you saw me today. We’ve got to discuss what you want me to do with your money.’

‘Oh, yeah. My money,’ he said vaguely. ‘How much is it now?’

‘About three times as much as you gave me.’

‘You always was good at makin’ dough.’ The old man guffawed. Then he frowned. ‘I sure as shit don’t want the taxman gettin’ it.’

‘Then what?’

‘Here’s what you do. Western can’t manage nothin’, so it’s no good givin’ it to her. Once I’m gone, you arrange a monthly income for her. Somethin’ that goes straight into her bank.’

‘Okay.’

‘Then I want ya t’take a coupla million an’ give it to Mamie.’

He said it so casually that Michael didn’t register what he was saying for a moment. When it hit him, he was outraged. ‘What?’

‘Mamie–remember her, my ex-wife?’

‘What the fuck would you want to do that for?’

‘I promised her that when I went she’d get it.’

‘From what I hear, she’s doing okay with her porno empire.’

‘She was with me a lotta years, Mike,’ Vito said. ‘I think she deserves it.’

‘You do, huh?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Vito said, his gruff voice hardening. ‘So Mike, I can trust you, right?’

Michael nodded. He had no intention of giving one dime to Mamie Giovanni. By withholding the money, he could finally exact a very small revenge.

And that’s exactly what he planned