Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy

Three talented women as fiery as priceless diamonds,
three lives burning with power, beauty, passion,
talent and determination.

Book One

SENDA

She escaped the pogrom-haunted woods of a Jewish ghetto for the scented palaces of St. Petersburg to become the most famous actress in czarist Russia and mistress to a man as powerful as he was perverse, a meteoric star of the stage bewitching a generation doomed to die in the blood-splattered snows of revolutionary Russia...

Book Two

TAMARA

Her mother’s supreme sacrifice gave her passage to America where she became the golden-haired goddess of the silver screen. Her face was her fortune and Hollywood her Kingdom. But who was she? Where had she come from? Not even she knew. Only that one man had made her for the dream machine, and that he had the power to make or break her...

Book Three

DALIAH

The most gorgeous and gifted off all she was the film idol of millions in whom the multi-generational legend lives on. Caught up in a world of danger beyond theatrical make-believe, she found herself trapped in a Mid-East terrorist hell where she is forced to pay for the sins of her legendary forebears and forced to act her greatest role in the arms of a man she desperately wanted to hate but cannot stop loving...

Novels by Judith Gould

Sins

The Love-Makers Trilogy:
Texas Born
Love-Makers
Second Love

DAZZLE

The Trilogy*

Volume One—SENDA*

Volume Two—TAMARA*

Volume Three—DALIAH*

The Complete Unabridged Trilogy*

Never Too Rich*

Forever

Too Damn Rich

Till the End of Time

Rhapsody

Time to Say Good-Bye

A Moment in Time

The Best is Yet to Come

The Greek Villa

The Parisian Affair

Dreamboat*

The Secret Heiress*

Greek Winds of Fury

*Available as an e-book

www.judithgould.com

* * * * *

DAZZLE

THE COMPLETE UNABRIDGED TRILOGY

By Judith Gould

* * * * *

Published by
Malden Bridge Press

Dazzle

The Complete Unabridged Trilogy

Copyright © 1989 by Judith Gould

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Publisher’s Note:
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used ficticiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, livind or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Kindle Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Photo Copyright
© Nuno Silva

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All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

—
William Shakespeare,
As You Like It

Prologue
Payday

ALOFT . . .

Flying.

After all these years, she still couldn't get used to it. She
would tense when the plane hurtled down the runway, and
only begin to relax once it was airborne and the houses below
looked no bigger than those on a Monopoly board. Only on
night flights, such as this, El Al's nonstop flight 1002 from JFK
to Ben-Gurion Airport, Tel Aviv, could she settle down and
sleep. She felt safe in the darkness. Then, once the plane
began its descent and her ears started popping, the nervousness would gnaw at her again, and increase its bite until the
aircraft touched ground.

She was a tall, slim woman who held herself with dignity
and grace. Her world-famous face blended a disquieting com
bination of serene aristocrat and jungle amazon. Carelessly
combed long straight black hair, so lustrous it shone blue-
black, framed her features with a severe Madonna simplicity,
but one sensed rather than saw the innate tawny tigress lurking
just beneath the veneer of smooth creamy skin. She possessed
that alluring quality of devil-may-care beauty that drove men
to fantasize about her and women to emulate her. Even casually dressed, there was something disturbingly sensual about her. The cream silk duster from Luciano Soprani lent her the
bohemian quality of a serious but highly successful painter, while the wide-sleeved black crepe-de-chine shirt beneath it, open at the throat, hinted at a smouldering sexual perverse
ness, and the pleated silk trousers, the colour of dried tobacco,
contradicted it all with a kind of inborn Marlene Dietrich elan.
Had it not been for the curious looks she'd been getting, those
sidelong, knowing flickers of recognition, she would have been
able to forget that she was one of the world's three greatest box-office attractions. She, Jane Fonda, and Meryl Streep.
And usually in that order.

Even after nine years, I still don't feel like a movie star.
She
caught a man across the aisle staring at her, and quickly turned
away.
They think they know me. They think I'm some sort of goddess. They probably wouldn't believe it if I told them I get
diarrhoea from drinking the water in Mexico.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' a disembodied voice announced
over the intercom, in English, 'the captain has turned on the no-smoking sign. Please extinguish all smoking materials and
see that your seats are in the upright position and that all tray
tables are stowed. We hope you have had a pleasant flight,
and given the opportunity to fly again, you will choose to fly
El Al.' The message was repeated in Hebrew.

The chief steward appeared from the galley behind her,
which separated the first-class section from economy. Solicitously he picked up her empty wineglass and the little square
cocktail napkin, then pushed the tiny plastic beverage tray
back into the armrest. 'We have arranged for you to disembark
first, Miss Boralevi.' She had been born Daliah ben Yaacov
twenty-nine years earlier, but upon embarking on her film
career had adopted her mother's maiden name, Boralevi. 'One of our representatives will come to the plane to meet
you. He'll see to it that you're sped through customs and bag
gage claim with as little fuss as possible.'

Daliah turned her emerald-eyed film-star gaze to meet his.
'Thank you,' she said throatily, her voice naturally smoky and
peculiarly beguiling. 'I appreciate it.'

He lingered tentatively, hoping to strike up a conversation.
'Are you excited about visiting your homeland?'

She nodded, pushing a cascade of glossy hair from her face.
She raised her face to his. 'Yes,' she said softly, 'I am a sabra.
Born and bred.' She smiled.

'I know. Me too.' He returned her smile, automatically
switching to Hebrew. Then the magic moment was gone:
someone was signalling for him. 'Excuse me,' he told her and
hurried down the aisle.

Daliah smiled slightly. Simply knowing that they were both
sabras had given them common ground, something precious
to share and cherish. A fierce pride. All native-born Israelis
felt it, no matter how many years had passed since they'd been
home.

Suddenly a wave of depression and guilt swept through her.

I've been gone eleven years, she admonished herself
sternly. That's how long it's been since I last set foot on my
native soil, if I don't count the various embassies and consul
ates when it came time to renew my passport.

The jet engines changed pitch, and for a long, drawn-out
moment the airliner seemed to stand still in midair. Daliah
clutched the armrests with such force that her knuckles stood
out whitely on her thin hands. Then the jumbo jet banked and
slid forward with another muffled thrust of power.

She let out a deep sigh of relief and, turning back to the
window, saw, not the ever-nearing white-capped waves, but images of her family. She wondered if they would meet her at
the airport or send a car instead.

They know I love them dearly. They know I haven't
deserted them these long, past years. They, better than any
one, understand that I had to go out into the world and make
my mark to prove myself. To show them I'm worthy of the
Boralevi blood coursing through my veins.