Goddess of Vengeance by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online

me a car. It can get up to 211 miles per hour, man. It’s insane, and I love every minute of it. Denver doesn’t.’
    ‘No shit,’ M.J. said, walking around the car, giving it a full inspection. ‘I wonder why.’
    ‘Thinks it’s too flashy and fast.’
    ‘Well, bro, low key it ain’t.’
    They both laughed, and exchanged an enthusiastic fist pump.
    ‘How is your low-key girlfriend?’ M.J. asked, as they entered the enormous glass enclosed lobby. ‘Still putting away bad guys?’
    ‘Denver’s great,’ Bobby said. ‘She’s a special kind of girl.’
    ‘I’m gettin’ you feel that way. I’ve never seen you so caught up.’
    ‘What can I tell you?’ Bobby said, with a big grin. ‘The woman makes me happy.’
    ‘And that, my man, is all that matters.’
    ‘Right on!’
    ‘An’ talking of happy,’ M.J. said, ‘I got some news of my own.’
    ‘Wanna tell me?’
    ‘Cassie’s pregnant.’
    ‘Jeez, M.J. You ready for that?’
    ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’
    ‘Told your parents yet?’
    ‘Haven’t got around to it, but I will.’
    ‘You’d better.’
    ‘Don’t think I don’t know it.’
    ‘They’ll be happy for you.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Sure they will. Now let’s go kick some investor butt. And later we gotta get together an’ celebrate.’

Chapter Five
    O nce Armand Jordan decided he wanted something there was no going back, whether it be a woman, an unobtainable painting, a special delicacy, a one-of-a-kind car, a building. Nobody ever said no to Armand, and if they did, he merely upped the price.
    Usually he favoured high-class call girls – hookers had tricks that other women did not possess. Little tricks. Dirty tricks. Filthy things a man can only dream about.
    Once in a while he came across a woman who was not for sale. This did not faze Armand, for he believed they all had a price. And sometimes it wasn’t monetary.
    On occasion it intrigued him to discover what that price might be. It was a game he played for his own enjoyment, and when Armand played, he played to win.
    His latest conquest was Nona Constantine, the wife of Martin Constantine, one of his rivals in the real-estate business, a man some considered to be almost as powerful as him.
    How wrong they were!
    Nona was exactly the kind of challenge he craved. Married, with a young child, she was a former beauty queen from Slovakia, with high cheekbones and slanted eyes. Her husband doted on her, but Armand’s canny instinct allowed him to guess that ever since she’d given birth, Martin was not fucking her the way a woman yearned to be fucked.
    Armand worked on her slowly, and since they moved in the same New York social circles – art gallery openings, charity events, small dinner parties – it was quite easy to get close to her. Especially as he always had a girl on his arm. Only he knew that his so-called ‘dates’ were bought and paid for; that way they never gave him any trouble or made any demands. His unbreakable rule was never to use the same girl twice.
    New York hostesses considered Armand Jordan a huge catch. They were always trying to fix him up, but he eluded their attempts. He was attractive in a slightly mysterious way, with a neat black moustache, thick eyebrows framing brooding eyes, and an impeccable dress sense. Only the best for Armand. He wore socks and underwear once, then threw them away. Shirts he might wear twice, but that was it. And his hand-tailored suits never stayed in his closet longer than a month.
    The hostesses persevered, for not only was Armand mega-rich, it was rumoured that back in the small Middle Eastern country he originally hailed from, he possessed some kind of title.
    He never spoke of that.
    It took him a couple of months to get Nona to his penthouse on the pretext of showing her a rare Picasso he’d recently acquired. He did not mind the wait, in fact he quite enjoyed the anticipation of the conquest.
    She arrived at eleven in the morning, an innocent time of day. She had