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

hang out at their hotel, claiming it was good for business. What Nando failed to understand was that good business meant attracting big-time gamblers, high-rollers who were prepared to lose a fortune. Movie stars were nothing. You couldn’t even give them markers without them not paying the debt.

He walked back into the living room, picked up the remote and clicked on the TV just in time for the news.

Another car chase. Another murder. Another hold-up in California–thirty people locked in a restaurant with armed gunmen in Beverly Hills.

The phone rang. He picked up.

‘Mr Castle? Your mother would like you to contact her.’

‘Thanks, Mario.’

It was unusual for Dani to call him so late. He punched out her number, wondering what she wanted.

Dani answered immediately. ‘Vincent, I have a surprise for you.’

‘What surprise?’

‘I need you to come to my apartment right now.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Then what?’ he said, irritated. ‘Can’t it wait until morning?’

‘No, it can’t.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure.’

‘I’ll be there,’ he said, not at all pleased.

‘Good,’ she said, and hung up.

Sofia followed Gianni into the Marbella Club where he was greeted on all sides with smiles and admiring salutes. Beautiful women waved and blew him kisses.

‘Man, you’re popular,’ Sofia remarked, trailing behind him.

‘Yes, and I’m sure they are all wondering who the drowned rat is dogging my footsteps.’

‘Sorry,’ she said rudely. ‘Am I ruining your impeccable reputation?’

‘Not at all.’

‘I should’ve picked up some clothes from my place,’ she ruminated. ‘Do you have anything I can borrow?’

‘I’m sure Anais has left something in the suite. She usually does.’

She followed him into his suite, which overlooked the ocean. There was a large blow-up poster of Anais propped against one wall. Her back was to the camera, and all she had on was a pair of low-rider, studded jeans. The heading across the poster read: Black or white? Gianni or blue jeans?

Sofia surveyed it, squinting her eyes. ‘Gotta admit she’s gorgeous,’ she said at last.

‘I know,’ Gianni replied, putting on some classical music.

‘Anais is your girlfriend, right?’

‘Correct.’

‘Isn’t she kind of, like, famous?’

‘She is a supermodel.’

‘I’ve probably seen her in magazines.’

‘So you read magazines?’ he said, somewhat amused.

‘And books. I did go to school, even though it was in Vegas.’ She yawned: the events of the night were finally catching up. ‘School sucked–I never learned anything. All I wanted to do was get out and discover the world for myself.’

‘And have you?’

‘Well, I gotta say, tonight was an education. Actually,’ she added, grinning, ‘I’m kinda psyched. I think I handled it very well.’

‘Jumping out of a window is handling it very well?’

‘I didn’t jump out of a window,’ she corrected. ‘I jumped into a swimming pool.’

‘Sofia, if you’d missed the swimming-pool and hit the concrete, you would be dead now, and we would not be standing here discussing this.’

‘Hey,’ she said cockily, ‘I made the jump, hit the pool and now I’m totally psyched.’

‘That’s comforting to know.’

‘So I suppose you’re madly in love?’ she said, flopping on to the couch.

‘That’s a very forward question.’

‘Which means you’re, like, not?’

‘Anais is an extremely complex woman,’ he said, lighting a long, thin Cuban cigar.

‘How old is she?’

‘Twenty-five,’ he replied. ‘In modelling years that’s considered old. Sometimes it makes her insecure about her future. She wishes to try acting.’

‘How long have you been together?’

‘Why all the questions, Sofia?’ he asked, expelling a thin stream of smoke.

‘You were questioning me in the car. Now it’s my turn.’

‘You’ll find a robe in the bathroom, go put it on before you catch cold. In the meantime, I’ll order you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry. What would you like?’

‘A club sandwich. Unless they’ve got a burger and french fries,’ she said, jumping up. ‘I’d kill for an American-style burger.’

‘Let us not get dramatic,’ he said, half smiling. ‘I’ll see what I can do. When you’ve eaten, we should call your parents and perhaps you should think about going home for a while.’

She threw him a bold look. ‘Is that before I come to see you in Rome, or after?’

‘Then you are interested?’

‘Depends what you have in mind,’ she said, trying not to sound too intrigued–which she was, because the thought of flying to Rome and scoring a modelling job was quite exciting.

He indicated the poster of Anais. ‘I need a new face alongside Anais for my next jeans campaign. Perhaps you could be that face. Of course, if you come to Rome, you’ll have to test with my photographer. He’ll know whether you possess the quality we need.’

‘Oh, wow!’ she said mockingly. ‘Does this mean I’m being discovered?’

‘Possibly,’ he said, ignoring her attitude. ‘If the camera loves you.’

‘Cool,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing keeping me here. So…will you take me to Rome?’

‘You want me to take you?’

‘Why not? It’ll be an adventure.’

‘Very well, Sofia. We leave in the morning.’

‘What airline?’

‘No airline, my dear. I have my own plane.’

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t you?’

Jolie was not into competition. She regarded Nando as a challenge–and the challenge was keeping him faithful. So far she was doing a pretty good job, but Jolie was a realist and Nando was a man, so the trick was keeping him as satisfied as she could at home. For his last birthday–his thirty-sixth–she’d had a stripper pole installed in their bedroom.

When Nando first saw it he’d yelled with laughter. But soon…when she’d begun showing him what she could do on it, the laughter ceased, and he was more turned on than she’d ever seen him. Now it was his private treat, something she reserved for special occasions.

Tonight Nando seemed like he could use a treat. He was so tightly wound up she could almost feel the tension.

‘What’s up, honey?’ she asked, when they got home to their luxurious house in an exclusive, gated community.

‘Vincent,’ he said, going straight to the bar in their sunken living room with the over-size leopard-skin couches and huge marble coffee tables.

‘Did he do something?’

‘He did nothing. Vincent never does anything.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked sympathetically.

‘He’s so freakin’ rigid. Doesn’t want movie stars in