Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (40 page)

Morton’s voice faltered. “I…I can’t do that.”

“Oh, yes, Morton, you certainly can.” A long pause. “By the way, how’s your wife? And children?” Another long pause. “I guess Donna hasn’t shown them the tape yet.”

The color drained from his face. “What tape?”

“Morton, you’re a good businessman; however, you have to realize that when you’re dealing with somebody like Donna—or, in fact, someone like me—you’re out of your league. Not only does Donna still have your balls in a vise, but now I also have a copy of the tape.”

“Oh, God!” he groaned. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“Cooperate, Morton,” she said coolly. “And I’ll see that every copy of the tape—including the original—is destroyed. And if you
don’t
, well…I’ll
personally
make sure your wife views it, because you’ve been a
very
bad boy and you deserve to be punished.”

His shoulders slumped and he looked ready to collapse. “Jesus! What have I done?” he muttered.

Lucky sighed and shook her head. “Don’t you get it? Nice guys aren’t supposed to screw around on their wives—especially with a teenage hooker. It’s not proper. Marriage is a contract. And in my world, a contract means something.”

She turned and walked away, leaving an ashen-faced Morton standing alone.

Leslie spent the night with Johnny Romano, not bothering to return to her own house until early in the morning. She entered her bedroom and was annoyed to see that Jeff was exactly where she’d left him, fully clothed and snoring. The idiot wasn’t even aware she’d been out all night.

She went into her bathroom, took a shower, dressed, and applied fresh makeup. Then she hurried into Jeff’s closet and packed all his clothes into a suitcase that she dragged to the front door.

That done, she sat down and wrote him a short note.

She left the note on top of the suitcase and drove to the Four Seasons, where she checked in for the day.

If there was one thing Leslie hated, it was confrontations.

Alex hit his office like a dynamo—energized and full of vigor. He’d woken up early and decided he’d better forget about Lucky for now and get back to concentrating on his movie. Once he’d made that decision, he’d started feeling good.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked as he burst in, slapping France on the ass as he passed.

“Alex!” France said. It wasn’t an objection—more another way of saying
Thanks!

Lili was delighted to see him in such good form. “Do we have our old Alex back?” she asked, following him into his office.

“What do you mean?” he responded.

“You’ve hardly been yourself lately,” Lili said crisply.

“Don’t talk crap,” Alex said.

“I’m merely being truthful.”

“Okay,” he said briskly, moving on to more important
things. “This is the deal. Leslie’s out. Venus is in. Talk to her agent, confirm with Mickey, and arrange for her to come in at four. I want to check out Johnny’s clothes today. Then put together a full read-through with the entire cast on Thursday. Got it?”

“Yes,” Lili said, smiling happily. “Are we sending flowers to anyone?”

“Absolutely not,” Alex said firmly. “It’s back to business, Lili. We’re making a movie here. Let’s get it together.”

After seeing Morton, Lucky met with Inga. She’d called her early in the morning and suggested they should talk.

“What about?” Inga had asked suspiciously.

“Something I’m sure you don’t want Abe to hear.”

That was enough to spur Inga into action. She’d agreed to meet Lucky for lunch in the dining room at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.

When Lucky walked in, Inga was already sitting at a table. “Hi,” Lucky said, settling into a chair, her back to the window so she could view the room.

Inga nodded, her broad, unlined Swedish face impassive as usual.

“I could have come to the house,” Lucky said, “only I didn’t think you’d want Abe to hear our conversation.”

“Is it
about
Abe?” Inga asked, her strong jawline thrust forward.

“No,” Lucky replied, wondering if Inga would object to her smoking at the table. “Well, I say no, but in a way it
does
have to do with him.”

“How?” Inga asked.

Yes. Inga would definitely be put out if she smoked. “Shall we order?” she said, waving to the captain. He hurried over with menus.

“I usually don’t eat lunch,” Inga said. “Perhaps an apple and a piece of cheese.”

“How frugal of you,” said Lucky, consulting the menu and ordering a steak and french fries. “I need my strength,” she said with a small smile. “So many people have been stabbing me in the back lately, I’m positively weak. This afternoon I might lift weights—have you ever done that? It’s great therapy. Makes me feel sensational.”

“No,” Inga said. “For exercise I swim ten lengths in the pool every day.”

“
Very
good for you,” Lucky said, imagining Abe sitting poolside, watching.

Inga ordered a salad, waiting impatiently to see what Lucky had to say.

“How well do you know Morton Sharkey?” Lucky asked at last, leaning her elbows on the table.

Inga shrugged. “Not very well at all,” she said warily.

“Tell me how you met him. Through Abe?”

“Yes.”

Lucky nodded. “I remember when I was looking to buy Panther. Abe recommended Morton. He’d used him for a couple of deals and trusted him. I must say, I trusted him, too. Silly me. I even trusted him when he persuaded me to privately sell off a large block of shares. He suggested I diversify, sell sixty percent of Panther and use the money for other investments. I agreed. Of course, I should have kept fifty-one percent, but…I went with Morton’s advice. He said he had investors in place who were controllable, nothing could ever go wrong….”

Inga was starting to look uncomfortable. “What’s your point?”

“You know what my point is, Inga,” Lucky said, her voice hardening. “You’re not a stupid woman…. Or should I call you Mrs. Smorg?”

“Abe is ninety,” Inga said brusquely. “I’ve lived with him for the last forty years. By obtaining a piece of Panther Studios, I protected my future.”

“Fine with me,” Lucky said calmly. “But why did you side with Donna Landsman?”

“Morton advised me to do so.”

“Oh, you mean your
partner
, Morton Sharkey, the person you own Conquest Investments with?”

“Abe has never done anything for me,” Inga said bitterly. “I have no money, nothing in my name. I know when he dies his great-grandchildren inherit everything.”

“You’re married to him, Inga,” Lucky said evenly. “California law states you get half of his estate.”

Inga stared into space. “Abe made several irrevocable trusts before we were married. I signed a prenuptial
and
a quit claim on his estate. In his will he has left me a hundred thousand dollars. That’s it.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I am not a young woman anymore. I have a certain lifestyle to maintain.”

“By protecting yourself, you screwed me,” Lucky said tersely. “By siding with Morton, you gave me no chance.”

“I had to do what he said, he takes care of my investments.”

Lucky laid out her terms. “This is the deal, Inga—if you don’t want Abe to know about your outside activities, sell me your shares immediately. You hold six percent personally and half of Conquest is another five. That’ll give me back eleven percent.” She paused for breath. “My lawyer has drawn up the papers. You’ll get top dollar—be smart—buy yourself IBM with the money.”

Inga realized she had no choice. “Very well,” she said stiffly. “I will do as you say.”

“I’ve a bitch of a headache,” Mickey grumbled.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Leslie replied sympathetically.

They sat together in the commissary at Panther Studios.

“Not exactly a hangover,” Mickey said, hunching his shoulders. “Although I
was
drinking.”

“Your party was very nice,” Leslie said, not meaning it, but what the hell—may as well make Mickey feel good.

“It might have been nice for you,” he said vehemently. “But
I
had a situation where my daughter ended up fucking that Santo kid in his house—and
I
had to go get her.”

“No!” Leslie said, suitably shocked.

“What is it with kids today, Leslie?” he asked mournfully. “They treat sex and drugs like it’s no big deal. When I was sixteen, buying
condoms
was a big deal.”

“I’m sorry to hear Tabitha’s giving you trouble,” Leslie said. Obviously the kid took after her father.

He drank half a glass of Evian water. “Trouble, schmuble…I suppose the kid’s gotta do her own thing. She goes back to boarding school in a couple of weeks.”

Leslie picked at her salad. It was time to talk about
her
. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know I took your advice.”

“What advice, sweetie?”

“Jeff is history.”

Mickey nodded his approval. “Smart move. A girl like you can have anybody you want.” He jabbed his finger at her. “You gotta work the stardom thing, Leslie. Work it.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she murmured.

“An’ talking of working it…have
I
found a script for
you
.”

“Really?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about your career.
Gangsters
is not right, you’re too nice to pull off that kind of sleazy role.”

“What script, Mickey?” she asked eagerly.

“It’s about a guy and a gal who meet in Paris, fall in love, fall out of love, then fall back in love. Hokey shit—the public’ll eat it up.”

“It sounds wonderful. Are you sending it to Cooper?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll send it to him. But, Leslie, you gotta realize Cooper’s like an old whore—give him the right amount of money and he’ll stand on his head and recite the alphabet. He does it for the loot.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Leslie said, springing to her former lover’s defense.

“I keep on telling you—ya gotta wise up to actors.”

“I’ll read the script,” she said sweetly, ignoring his criticism. “If I like it, I’ll do it.”

“Honey.” He laughed rudely. “
I
like it,
you’ll
do it. Have I ever given you bad advice?”

It wasn’t worth arguing. Better he was on her side. “No, Mickey, you and Abigaile have been very good to me.”

“Okay, sweetie—remember that,” he said, squinting across the table at her. “You look better today—not so pinched. Throwing Jeff out agrees with you.”

“Thank you, Mickey,” she said demurely.

And she did not tell him about her night’s adventure with Johnny Romano. It was a one-shot deal to get over her disappointment with Cooper. And not a very exciting one. Johnny Romano was still a greedy pig, only interested in his own satisfaction.

It would never happen again.

“Outfit—sensational. Attitude—just right,” Alex said.

“Thanks,” Venus said, and smiled. She was sitting in his office, enjoying their meeting. “Coming from you, that’s a big compliment.”

“I spoke to Freddie.”

“So did I.”

“Everything’s under control,” Alex said. “Contracts are on their way.”

“You don’t know how thrilled I am to be doing
Gangsters
,” Venus said. “I guess I told you before—the critics hate me. This time I don’t want them seeing Venus on the screen, I want to
be
Lola.” She looked at him intently. “I
know
you can bring the performance out in me that I’ve never been able to give before.”

“If I can’t get it out of you, nobody can,” Alex said, never modest about what he knew he could achieve. “I’ll personally work on the script with you. Today you’ll do clothes, hair, and makeup tests. Tomorrow there’ll be a read-through with the rest of the cast.”

“This is such a special day for me,” Venus said, brimming with enthusiasm. “Not only have I gotten the part of my career, but I’ve decided to give my husband another chance.”

“Cooper?” Alex said, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed happily. “He’s the only husband I’ve got.”

“Taking him back, huh?”

“The truth is,” she said, grinning sheepishly, “he’s irresistible.”

“That’s what
you’re
gonna be in
Gangsters
,” Alex said, killer smile at full force. “Irresistible.”

On the drive back to her house, Lucky had plenty of time to think. Finally, it was all coming together.

She would get her studio back.

She would never get her husband back.

After she regained control of Panther, she knew she’d eventually have to deal with Donna Landsman. There was no way she could allow Donna to get away with murdering Lennie.

She’d been keeping the thought in the back of her mind. Soon she’d have to face it.

She sighed—a deep sigh. When would the Bonnatti family learn?

“
MY PAPA IS BACK,” CLAUDIA SAID, NERVOUSLY
clasping her hands together. “He say I no come here again.”

“Jesus, Claudia,” Lennie said, desperately trying to control his frustration. “When are you getting the key?”

“This weekend…when my papa sleeps.”

“Why can’t you call the American Embassy? Get help. Get me
out
of this fucking place?”

Her pretty face was serene. “Lennie,” she said seriously. “My life is here—in my village…. I help you escape, my papa cannot know. No one can. We must do it my way.”

Sometimes he felt he was in the middle of an Italian movie, acting out scenes. Beautiful peasant girl with incredible, voluptuous breasts and sturdy thighs rescues handsome American stranger from a life in captivity. Shit! Universal would make it in a minute!

“Claudia,” he said, purposely speaking very slowly so as not to frighten her away. “Isn’t there a way to get me out of here today? What about your boyfriend? Can’t he help?”

She turned on him with a ferocious “No!”

He’d upset her. Had to be careful. He sensed she was
of two minds about betraying her father. Now he realized she hadn’t even told her boyfriend.

“Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. “You can’t blame me for being impatient.”

“Where is the map I gave you?” she asked. “If my papa sees it…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve hidden it.”

She was edgy today, full of fear. What if she changed her mind and left him here to rot?

No. She wouldn’t do that. They’d forged a connection, a bond. She had a little crush on him, and he felt the same about her. Not that it lessened his love for Lucky. This was merely circumstances.

“Claudia.” He held out his arms. “Come here.”

Warily she walked toward him. Today she had on a dress like Sophia Loren had worn in the movie
Two Women
. A clingy cotton dress that buttoned all the way down the front, exposing her bare legs and lightly tanned skin. On her feet were simple sandals. She wore no makeup except a soft pink lipstick. Her long auburn hair fell to below her waist. He noticed she had a little scar on her left cheek, and her eyelashes were impossibly long.

She stood close to him. He could see she was near tears. He breathed in her scent and asked her what was wrong.

Her lower lip began to tremble. “I…I am confused…” she stammered.

“I know this is difficult for you,” he said, trying desperately to reassure her. “You feel you’re betraying your father, and yet you know that what he’s doing is very wrong. Criminal, in fact.”

She nodded silently.

He reached out his hand, touching her arm. “When I’m free, Claudia, I won’t forget you. I want you to come visit me in America.”

“Not possible,” she said, shaking her head. “No one can know I helped you.”

“Look,” he said, “if you bring me a paper and pencil, I’ll write down my address and phone number. Anytime you want anything, I’ll be there for you…or I’ll send you money. Whatever you want.”

“I know what Papa has done is bad,” she said, her face serious. “This is why I help you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Lennie,” she said, confused. “I feel…close to you. So very close.”

He pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. She struggled, but only for a second, then she gave herself up to his kiss, throwing back her head, her lips soft and giving and so very sweet.

Forgive me, Lucky, but I have to make sure she comes back, and this is the only way I know how
.

Besides, the touch of another human being, the feel of her body, filled him with hope. There was a future. He wasn’t dead yet.

She explored his face with her hands, stroking, caressing. “My American prisoner,” she murmured lovingly. “I will set you free. I will.”

Automatically he began undoing the buttons of her dress, exposing her full breasts.

She was truly one of the most luscious women he’d ever seen, her skin smooth, her nipples ripe and inviting as he bent to kiss them. She tasted so sweet he couldn’t stop himself.

She lay down on the damp ground and threw her arms above her head in a gesture of pure abandonment. Her underarm hair was thick and somehow very sexy. He teased her nipples with his tongue.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, breathing heavily. “It is not right.”

He noticed she didn’t move away.

“No one will ever know, this is between us,” he said, quickly unbuttoning the rest of her dress, his fingers fumbling on the material.

She wore old-fashioned underpants that reached up to her waist. Recklessly he plunged his hand down them, feeling his way through a thick forest of pubic hair to reach the warm moistness of her desire.

She caught her breath, gasping with passion. She was his last chance at freedom.

“This weekend…you’ll come back, you’ll help me,” he said, plunging into her welcoming softness.

“Oh, yes, Lennie, oh, yes—you have my promise.”