Deadly Embrace (52 page)

He wasn't very nice. In fact, he was a big bully. While they were
making out he'd slapped her hard on the bottom several times with the
palm of his hand. It had hurt.

"I don't like that," she'd cried, his slaps stinging.

"I do," he'd said, sniggering.

She wondered how she could collect her clothes from the other room
and escape. Spying a white terry cloth bathrobe behind the door, she
gingerly got up and slipped it on.

Now what? She couldn't go back inside, it was too humiliating.

Of course, she could always tell Vincent that Andy Dale had raped
her. Knowing Vincent, he'd probably beat Andy to a pulp, and she
didn't want it to go that far.

Still... she refused to go back in the other room, which meant
there was no way she could get out of the suite unless Vincent came
to rescue her.

There was a phone next to the sink. She picked up the
receiver.

When Vincent answered, she began to cry.

"Help me," she sobbed. "Please come get me. I need help."

* * *

Sitting on the plane Vincent had chartered to fly him to L.A.,
Michael was totally calm on the outside and churning up on the
inside.

Marnie and Bone.

He should've finished them off years ago, exactly like they
deserved.

They were scum. Two old pieces of shit who needed to be flushed
out of his life once and for all.

And he would do it. There was nobody to stop him.

Before this night was over, Marnie and Bone would be history.

* * *

"Everybody get the fuck out," the gunman said. "An' no smart
moves."

Hurriedly everyone got out of the van. Madison put her arms around
Natalie and hugged her. "We'll be all right," she whispered. "I
promise you, we'll be all right."

Natalie nodded. She was shivering and shaking. Cole came over and
embraced the two of them, giving them a solid hug.

Madison looked around; there were two other hostages, five
altogether, including them.

Just as they were all wondering what was about to happen next, an
old black Cadillac came cruising down the street, loud rap music
blasting from the windows.

"You," the gunman snarled at Madison. "In the back."

"What are you
talking
about?" she said, her heart
pounding.

"Do it,
bitch
. Get in the fuckin' car."

And he grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her back, and shoved her
into the backseat of the Cadillac, jumping in after her.

There was nothing she could do. As soon as she was in, the car
took off, racing away into the night.

I want you to look at this," Madison said, racing into Michael's
office, waving a magazine in front of his face.

"What?" he said, always delighted to see his daughter.

"Remember years ago when we were in Miami, and I told you I'd make
you proud?" she said, perching on the edge of his desk.

"Yeah?"

"Well, take a look at this," she said, triumphantly thrusting a
magazine called
Manhattan Style
at him. On the front cover was
her byline: "Profiles in Power by Madison Castelli."

"Jesus, kid," Michael said, staring at the magazine. "All those
years in college finally paid off."

"They certainly did," she said excitedly. "Guess who my first
subject is?"

"Who?"

"Would you believe Henry Kissinger?"

"Holy shit!" Michael said. "This I gotta read!"

"And," she said, "I'd like you to note that my picture is included
at the beginning of the magazine."

Two years ago, fresh out of college, she'd been discovered by
Victor Simons, the editor
of Manhattan Style
. He'd seen a
small piece she'd had published in
Esquire
about the
still-rampant double standard between men and women. Victor had read
it, liked it, and taken her out to lunch, where he'd encouraged her
to get more experience and then come back to see him.

"Why don't you hire me now?" she'd asked boldly. "Grab me while
you can."

"No, but one of these days I will," he'd said.

And true to his word, he had. She'd been working at
Manhattan
Style
for several months, and this was her first big assignment
with her own byline.

"Sweetheart, this is great," Michael said, studying the piece, a
big smile spreading across his face. "Has Stella seen it?"

"I haven't shown her yet."

"Call and tell her. She'll be excited."

"Oh, c'mon, Michael—when have you ever seen Stella
excited?"

Stella and Madison did not enjoy the warm and wonderful
mother-daughter relationship he'd hoped for. Instead, things were
somewhat strained between them.

"You're her daughter, Madison," he said. "I'm telling
you—she'll be very happy for you."

"
You
show her. Take this copy home."

"How about we go out to dinner tonight and celebrate?" he
suggested.

"Can't. I've got plans with the girls."

"What girls?"

"Natalie's in town from LA. Jamie's set something up, so I can't
let them down."

"Where are you going?"

"One of the clubs. Why? You want to join us?"

"I've had my club days," he said ruefully.

"Really? Well, I still think you're the most handsome man
around."

"And out of the mouths of daughters..."

"Anyway," she said happily, "I couldn't wait to show you."

"Thanks, sweetheart. I'm glad you dropped by. I'm
very
proud."

As soon as Madison left his office, he instructed Marcie to call
Vito Giovanni.

"I've left messages for Mr. Giovanni three days in a row," Marcie
stated.

"I know that, Marcie," he said patiently. "That's why we've got to
keep trying."

"Perhaps he's out of town."

"Who answers anyway?"

"An answering machine," Marcie said.

"Okay, give it another shot."

He needed to talk to Vito about the two million dollars he'd
invested for the old man. Over the years the money had almost
doubled, and Vito had expressed no interest in how he was supposed to
get it back.

Michael didn't feel comfortable holding the investments in his
name. Even though he'd buried it and nobody could ever trace it to
Vito, the fact remained that it was Vito's money.

Marcie tried again, once more getting the answering machine.

"I'm going over there," Michael decided, grabbing
Manhattan
Style
and heading out the door. "Call my driver. Have him meet me
outside."

Traveling down in the elevator, he began reading Madison's profile
on Henry Kissinger. Un-fucking-believable! His daughter, a published
writer. A journalist, interviewing an important statesman in a big
shot magazine. Jesus! What a thrill.

Once he hit the street he called Dani in Vegas on his cell phone.
He wanted to tell her to go out and buy the magazine.

Sofia answered. "Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, chicken. Is your mom around?"

"She's out. When are you coming home, Daddy?"

"Soon."

His other family. His secret family. Stella and Madison knew
nothing about his second life in Las Vegas. And for now, that's the
way it had to be.

Sometimes, even though he was married to Stella, he never really
felt he knew her. Half the time she was suffering from migraine
headaches, the other half she was out socializing, buying clothes and
jewelry at an alarming rate. They rarely had any interaction
together. In fact, they didn't even make love anymore. He'd sold
their New York apartment and bought a house in Connecticut to please
her and maybe bring them closer together. It hadn't worked.

Every month he managed to spend a week in Vegas. Things were
different with Dani. He
always
wanted to make love to Dani. If
it hadn't been for Madison he would have moved to Vegas a long time
ago. However, Madison truly believed Stella was her mother, and even
though he'd promised Dani that when the time came he'd leave Stella,
he found it impossible to do so.

He often imagined what Madison's reaction would be if she ever
discovered that she had a half brother and sister. She'd either be
furious or delighted. There was no in-between with his feisty
daughter.

Lately he'd realized that Dani was becoming disillusioned with
their arrangement. "You told me that when Madison went to college,
you'd leave Stella," she'd said the last time he'd seen her. "Then
you told me that as soon as she got
out
of college, you'd
leave. And now Madison's graduated, has a job, and
still
you're with Stella. I don't understand it."

"I can't explain it to you," he'd said, trying his best to say the
right thing. "It's... difficult."

"
What's
so difficult, Michael?" she'd answered heatedly.
"I've been waiting for you all these years. I raised your family. We
should
be together."

"Why ruin something so good, sweetheart?"

She'd glared at him. Wrong use of words.

* * *

A housekeeper at the Giovanni house informed him that Mr. and Mrs.
Giovanni were away on vacation in the Bahamas. He had to admire the
old guy—nothing slowed Vito down, he was always up to
something.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that Vito didn't care about
his money. He must be so rich that it didn't matter to him.

"Tell Mr. G. I'll be in contact when he returns."

* * *

Madison met Jamie and her other best girlfriend from
college—Natalie—at a downtown club. Jamie was even more
wistfully beautiful than ever in a white linen suit and Manolo heels.
Natalie, short, curvaceous, and glowingly pretty, was in a sexy red
dress, while Madison wore a slinky, pale beige Ralph Lauren suit,
clouds of dark hair framing her oval face.

"Hey, look at you," Natalie said as Madison walked in. "Dressed
for success."

"Is this my celebration dinner?" Madison asked, sitting down and
grinning. " 'Cause I am now officially a great big deal."

"Yeah, yeah," Jamie said dismissively. "You're a star."

"I flew in for tonight," Natalie interjected. "So it
better
be a celebration!"

Jamie had organized everything with her usual style. She was
studying interior design, and with her fether to finance her she was
hoping to eventually open her own place. She'd recently gotten
engaged to Peter, a handsome blond man. Everyone referred to them as
the golden couple.

Natalie was living in LA with her brother, Cole, trying to get a
TV celebrity journalist career off the ground.

Madison was the first one to achieve her dream. She was a
published writer at a very prestigious magazine—a magazine that
consistently outsold
Esquire
and
Vanity Fair
.

"So," Natalie asked, grabbing a handful of potato chips, "did you
tell Michael?"

"I showed him the article."

"And?" they both asked.

"He was kind of psyched."

"I
bet
he was," Jamie said, laughing. "Is he still as
handsome as ever?"

"Hmm ...," Madison said with a knowing smile. "You always had a
crush on Michael, didn't you?"

"Yes," Jamie admitted. "However, now that I'm getting married, my
crush will have to be a thing of the past."

"Are you inviting him to your wedding," Madison inquired, "so he
can admire the bride?"

"Of course," Jamie said, refusing to be teased. "I've known both
your parents forever."

"How
is
the lovely Stella?" Natalie asked.

"She spends most of her time in Connecticut," Madison said. "And
when she comes into the city, she's either shopping or sick. I hardly
ever see her."

"Then I guess things are the same as ever," Jamie said.

"I get off listening to you privileged kids discuss family shit,"
Natalie said. "Me—I'm the one who had to struggle through
college, working as a waitress and all that crap."

"You
never
worked as a waitress," Jamie said jokingly. "You
did one week in a hamburger joint and ran screaming to the hills when
you broke a nail. You had so many boyfriends there wasn't
time
for work."

"Now you're making me sound like a hooker," Natalie objected.

"They were lining up outside the dorm," Jamie giggled. "Seven
little hard-ons all in a row!"

"Yeah—and that was for you," Natalie said succinctly.

In college the three of them had been nicknamed the Beauty
(Jamie), the Brain (Madison), and the Sexpot (Natalie). They'd been
inseparable.

Jamie ordered a bottle of Cristal. As soon as their glasses were
filled, she lifted hers and toasted Madison. "How does it feel to be
famous and successful?" she asked, tucking a strand of wheat blond
hair behind her ears.

"Un-fucking-believable," Madison said, using one of her father's
favorite words.

"Un-fucking-believable," Natalie repeated. "Girl! I like it!"

"So how
was
Dr. Henry Kissinger?" Jamie asked.

"Very charming. And extremely clever."

"Can you please interview Denzel Washington next?" Natalie
pleaded. "Or Sidney Poitier, my hero!"

"Too old," Jamie said.

"Don't you mean too
hot
?" Natalie contradicted. "That man
has got it goin' on!"

"I'll try," Madison said, sipping her champagne. "Apparently he's
a hard get, doesn't like doing interviews."

"So I'll settle for Denzel," Natalie sighed. "That man is sweet as
molasses."

Later, at home in the small apartment Michael had bought her the
day she graduated college, Madison propped the magazine up against
the mirror in her bathroom.

"Profiles in Power by Madison Castelli."

Life couldn't get any better.

"You look great in a hard hat, Mom," Vincent said, mildly teasing
her.

"Excuse me?" Dani replied.

"No, really," he said, taking her arm and steering her around a
fenced-off area. "It suits you."