pack, all of them baying for a piece of Cole Steel. If only he could rely on Lana to keep the side up.
Emerging into the main hall, Cole scanned the gathering. He saw his wife talking to the dark-haired girl he’d walked past earlier and a cretinous-looking man with long hair. Straightening his suit jacket, he stepped forward.
‘Cole.’ A voice from behind stopped him in his tracks. He would know it anywhere.
Cole turned, his heart thumping behind his ribs. The man was elderly, with a thin grey comb-over and a nose made bulbous by too much drink. He was leaning on a stick.
Him.
The man who had ruined him. The man he hated. The man he hoped would rot in hell.
‘Michael,’ said Cole tightly, already thinking about how to make his escape.
The famous director grinned, revealing a wall of false teeth. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘It would be nice to see more of you,’ he said. He licked his lips with a thin wet tongue. ‘We used to know each other so well.’
Cole concentrated hard. His face remained impassive. ‘I have a busy schedule,’ he said.
‘Not like the old days, then.’ Michael kept smiling, hunched over his stick, as if they could share in the nostalgia of the past.
‘No.’ Cole lowered his eyes to the floor. This was the only man in the world who could make him feel afraid. Michael was ancient now, at least ninety.
When will you die? Cole thought. When the hell will you die?
‘I can’t talk, Michael,’ he said coolly. ‘I must get back to my wife.’
‘The beautiful Lana,’ said the director, his eyes watery. ‘How I wish I could have worked with her.’
Cole gritted his teeth. Lana was his prize, no one else’s. And certainly not Michael Benedict’s. ‘I’ll pass on your regards.’
And, without meeting the director’s eye, Cole was gone.
Las Vegas
‘What’s wrong with you anyway? You’re meant to be relaxing.’
Jessica Bernstein adjusted her position on the spa table to face her sister. The two women were enjoying a hotstone massage at the Spa Bellagio, the room decked out in eucalyptus-scented candles and rose petals. For Jessica it was the perfect way to spend yet another lazy afternoon; for Elisabeth it was giving her more time to think–something she didn’t need.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, trying to focus on letting her muscles go.
‘Trouble with Robert?’ asked Jessica, in that way she had of fishing for scandal.
‘No, everything’s fine.’
‘Liar.’
Elisabeth closed her eyes as the masseuse worked around her shoulders. They felt knotted and tense. Memories of that fateful night with Alberto Bellini played constantly in her mind in vivid, breathtaking detail, like the reel of a blue movie. She had to get herself together–she and Robert were due at the MGM Grand later for the big fight.
The thought of Robert made her heart ache. She loved him. What the hell was she doing?
‘And you’ve been having hot sex,’ continued Jessica. ‘I can tell.’
‘What?’ Elisabeth snapped.
‘You’ve got that … thing. I don’t know how to describe it, like you keep thinking about all the sexy fucking you’ve been doing and then getting embarrassed about it.’
Elisabeth was appalled. ‘Jessica!‘ she scolded, indicating the masseuse, who was sure to be taking everything in. On top of that, she was shocked by the accuracy of her sister’s diagnosis.
‘So? Is it true?’
‘I’m not talking about this.’
‘It is, then.’
Elisabeth refused to speak any further until they had some privacy–one word in a Vegas hotel about what had happened with Alberto and it would spread like wildfire. Yet strangely she did feel compelled to talk to Jessica about it. Jessica was the only one who understood Bellini’s attachment to their family and who knew what a Lothario he really was. Besides, keeping it to herself was driving her crazy. In her way of cutting brutally to the point, her sister might even be able to dispense some useful advice.
Twenty minutes later the women pulled on their towelling robes and slippers and padded towards the meditation room. Fortunately it was empty.
‘Spill,’ said Jessica as soon as they were inside. ‘I want to know everything.’
As Elisabeth grappled for a place to begin, Jessica got bored waiting and steamrollered in. ‘It’s not Robert, is it? It’s someone else.’
‘Shh! For God’s sake, Jessica.’
‘Oh. My. God. Really?‘
An assistant came in and offered them drinks. Elisabeth ordered a jasmine tea while Jessica opted for fresh mint, adjusting her white-flannel headband with pearlescent fingernails. As soon as she left Elisabeth clarified the situation.
‘It’s not what you think,’ she said.
‘I never said what I thought.’ Jessica put her head back, inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. ‘Tell me what happened.’
Elisabeth thought how to word it. Eventually she settled on, ‘Alberto Bellini … well, he seduced me.’
There was a moment’s pause before Jessica said, ‘Oh. That’s it?’
Elisabeth was surprised. ‘What do you mean, “That’s it?"?’
Jessica opened her eyes a crack. ‘I thought it’d be something way more juicy. Bellini’s an old dog–he’s done it to me before.’
Elisabeth was outraged. ‘What?‘
‘Oh, you know, nothing really. Just trying it on when he’s had too much to drink, managed to get his hands up my skirt once. I tried to tell you in France.’
The tea arrived but Elisabeth felt too sick to stomach it.
‘It’s not like he’s serious,’ Jessica went on, taking a sip with an accompanying ‘Ow!’
‘Did you go to bed with him?’ asked Elisabeth, taking care to inject the question with a good dose of disgust.
Jessica hooted with laughter, which made it even worse. ‘Ha! No,
