you know?” Stella said, already bored as she replaced the shoes and exited the closet. “Did your mom leave her jewelry behind?”
“Not the good stuff.”
“Figures. Although that rock she’s sporting now...does it give her finger a cramp from wearing it all day? It’s almost ridiculous.”
CoCo didn’t want to talk about her mother. Their relationship was strained on most days and now that she was married to a man CoCo found tedious and overbearing at the same time, they really had nothing productive to say to one another.
Although born in Milan, CoCo split her time between Europe and California—specifically, Los Angeles. And she really did love LA. Everything was wild and unbridled here, wealth was celebrated and she always found a good time running around the clubs, hanging out with movie stars.
It wasn’t that Italy didn’t have wealth—some of the wealthiest people in the world called Milan home—but it wasn’t flaunted with opulent awareness as it was in the City of Angels. The obscenity of riches fascinated CoCo, as did the knowledge that in Los Angeles, bad girls got noticed and sometimes rewarded for their bad behavior, rather than chastised and hidden away for a month until they promised to behave themselves. European countries were far more reserved, it seemed, when it came to breaking rules, and CoCo found that boring.
Thankfully, when her mother divorced Enzo, Azalea had been crafty enough to wrangle a monstrous settlement out of her older ex-husband and thus CoCo had always split her time between continents without any discernible change in lifestyle.
And since her mother was often out of the country—such as right now—that meant CoCo had the run of her mother’s Malibu mansion.
And there was no better place to have a raging party than a huge house with private beach access.
“Let’s invite Guillermo to DJ,” Stella suggested until CoCo made a face. “Oh, c’mon, just because you two hooked up and he blabbed about it doesn’t mean he can’t spin a mean set and you know it. Besides, he’s the best and he always comes with Molly.”
Molly, the street nickname for ecstasy, was always invited to a raging Hollywood-style party. The twentysomething crowd just didn’t party without it. And it would be convenient if she knew exactly who was giving it out. Sort of like crowd control.
“I suppose that is a point in his favor,” CoCo agreed, slowly warming to the suggestion. “But do not let me sleep with him. He may be good in the sack but he’s as bad as a girl name-dropping to get into a club. He’s got the loosest lips I’ve ever seen. And frankly, hooking up with him had been out of circumstance, not an extreme attraction, you know?”
“I get it. Slim pickings that night. Do you remember who I went home with that night?” Stella shuddered. “Rafe Dirk—otherwise known as The Dick—and not because he’s well-endowed. Much to my extreme displeasure. He didn’t even pay for my cab afterward!”
“What a dick.” CoCo laughed. “Okay, pinkie promise that we go home with only those who have been previously approved. Do you have a target?”
Stella turned sly at the prospect of sharing. “You first.”
“Chicken.” CoCo bounced onto the bed with a grin. “Fine. I’m actually thinking of hooking up with Charlie Rogers... He’s pretty cute and he’s a great dancer, which means he knows how to move, if you know what I mean.”
Stella gasped in total shock. “Are you kidding me? I hate to burst your bubble but he’s totally gay. Sorry, babe.”
“Are you sure?” CoCo asked. Stella nodded. “Well, that sucks,” she said, sharply disappointed.
She sighed and flounced back on the bed, her plan totally derailed until Stella said, “Don’t worry, I have someone you might like. Let’s just focus on the party and then we’ll worry about who we’re shagging later. Those things should really happen organically, right?”
“I guess,” CoCo grumbled as she rose on her elbows, frowning. “Wait a minute...you never said who you were targeting.”
Stella grinned with a wink. “I know. It’s a secret. Now, c’mon, let’s get the party going. We have social media to post, a caterer to hire, a mixologist to find and a ton of other details to coordinate in eight short hours.”
CoCo, happy to have something to look forward to, allowed Stella to drag her from the room. And just like that...everything was looking up.
AFTER FLASHING HIS CREDENTIALS, Rian drove through the gates of the Malibu mansion and gave his keys to the valet, shaking his head at the opulence of having a valet at a private party, but hey, this was LA and that was the norm. Having grown up dirt poor, sometimes the habits of the insanely wealthy baffled him. It was like landing on an alien planet and finding out all the inhabitants talked out of their butts. Well, that actually happened a lot in Hollywood, he thought with a private chuckle.
Music throbbed with an electric beat that vibrated his bones and he wondered how many complaints CoCo racked up with one of her parties. She was definitely violating the noise ordinance with that crap assaulting his ears. He wound his way through the teeming masses and ignored the drunken solicitations from the myriad of messed-up girls and made his way outside, looking for CoCo. He found her easily, the center of attention, with a group of stylish, nearly naked people dancing to the music from the DJ, who was moving to his own beat as he mixed music. Rian recognized the DJ, Guillermo—otherwise known as The Dealer in certain circles—and wondered how the guy didn’t have a rap sheet a mile long for all the shit he was into. He had a feeling that CoCo wasn’t going to go quietly into his protection and he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself so he decided the best way to handle the situation would be to get her alone.
And there was one way that usually worked.
Rian made his way to CoCo, wearing his confidence like an expensive suit. Women like CoCo responded to that alpha vibe even if they tried to pretend otherwise, at least that’s what experience told him so that’s what he was going with.
Walking straight up to her, ignoring the curious stares and the murmurs, he snagged CoCo’s attention with a mesmerizing look that never failed to catch the ladies. Kane liked to call it Rian’s “C’mere, girl” look and never missed an opportunity to razz him about it, but so far it’d served him well, and who was he to argue with success?
If Rian were a different kind of man and CoCo wasn’t part of the job, he might be all over that sizzling Italian number. She was enough to make a man change his religion but Rian knew that beyond that model face and body was a headache and a half, and he didn’t deal in drama.
CoCo’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed with interest as she boldly appraised his body, the corners of her lush mouth tilting in an intrigued smile as he went straight to her. “Some party,” he said by way of hello.
“And you are?” she asked, lifting one perfectly groomed eyebrow.
He leaned in, catching a whiff of her delicate perfume, and answered, “The man you’re going home with,” and her amused laughter tickled his insides.
“It’s my house, so I’m not going home with anyone,” she said, moving away with a sly grin that bordered on flirtatious, glancing over her shoulder
