up with the money?’
Costa cleared his throat nervously. ‘He had his own . . . methods .’
‘You’re supposed to be running things for him. Why don’t you use his methods? ’
‘Certain things are best left alone until the moment is right. We must wait for Gino .’
She stared at him hard. ‘We can’t wait. We don’t know how long he’ll be away. Even you say it could be years. If they gave their word, they have to be made to keep it. I want a list. I think I can work something out .’
He laughed in disbelief. ‘Don’t be a silly girl, these are hard men —’
Her eyes were ice-cold. ‘Don’t ever call me a silly girl again, Costa. You understand? ’
He remembered Gino at the same age. And he knew there was no way he was going to stop her from taking over while her father was away .
* * *
‘There’s a new comedian opening in the Bahia Room tonight,’ Matt said to Lucky. ‘Why don’t we have our coffee in there and catch the second show?’
‘Is he funny? I need a laugh.’
‘Would I hire a comedian who isn’t funny?’
She glanced at his date, an overmade-up nineteen-year-old Barbie doll. ‘There’s a lot of things you do that make me wonder, Matt.’
She was fed up with the entire evening. It pained her to see Gino making such a fuss of the groomed-to-the-eyeballs Susan Martino. Dimitri Stanislopoulos was loud and overbearing. And the two showgirls an embarrassment.
‘Shall I suggest it?’ Matt indicated Gino, lost in the azure blue of Susan’s eyes.
‘Do what you like,’ snapped Lucky. For a year nobody had come between her and Gino. Nobody got closer to him than an hour or two in his bed. And what did that mean? A quick physical act with some undemanding bimbo. For a man of his age he sure liked to indulge. But indulging was one thing – becoming involved another.
What did he need it for? She frowned. It would be different if Susan was a warm and wonderful person, but she wasn’t. She came across as an icy, controlled bitch, with a thin veneer of saccharine charm. And Lucky wanted the best for her father, not some ball-breaking Beverly Hills widow who probably saw him as an ongoing meal-ticket. It was obvious she liked money. Judging from her jewellery the more the merrier. Why didn’t she turn on to Dimitri who probably crapped gold bars?
Contemplatively Lucky lit a cigarette and blew perfect smoke rings while Matt got the party together for the move into the Bahia Room. She hadn’t slept with a man for months. The urge just wasn’t there.
Lucky Santangelo, celibate. The thought amused her.
There had been a time when she might have bedded one or two different men a week. If they were attractive, appealed to her, didn’t want any entanglements, and were prepared for her brisk, ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you.’ Sexually she had always lived her life like a man, and why not? As long as she wasn’t hurting anyone. Sexual hypocrisy outraged her. Who thought up the double standard anyway? Why did society call a man who slept around a stud, and a woman a nymphomaniac? To hell with that rhetoric. She just liked getting laid when she felt like it without the hassle of a relationship.
Of course, there was always the exception. In Lucky’s life there had only been one exception. Marco.
* * *
Marco entered Lucky’s life when she was a mere fourteen and he was around thirty. Dark and brooding, he was, she thought, the most attractive man she had ever seen. Unfortunately the feeling was not mutual. He regarded her as nothing more than a dumb kid, and treated her as such. He worked for Gino, and sometimes did duty as a bodyguard/chauffeur when either Dario or Lucky went shopping or to the movies. Which wasn’t often. Gino did not encourage outings. After Maria’s death, he liked his children safely behind the gated security of the Bel Air mansion.
When she went away to school it was Marco who accompanied her to the airport. When she
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