Lonzo: Book 1 (Tycoon Series Book 1) (5 page)

“Is he? You lucky girl!”

“We’re getting married in two weeks’ time. I know it’s short notice…but he was adamant when I told him we should wait. And, no…I am not pregnant,” Mel’s lilting voice was full of sunshine.

For a moment, Jordana almost envied her friend’s happiness.

“Dana, can I ask you to be my maid of honor? I know you’re really busy…I’ll understand if you can’t…”

“Of course, I’d be glad to!” she confirmed right away.

“Really? You’re sure? What about your schedule? Leandro regretfully said he can’t come, and he told me that your schedule gets pretty hectic—”

She bit her lip when she realized she didn’t check her schedule first. She could almost see Francesca’s face if she suddenly backed down from a gig.

Ah, let Leandro deal with Francesca. Her female bestfriend was getting married and she would make time for her!

“Of course, Mel. I’m absolutely sure I’ll be there. I’ll work around my schedule. Don’t worry about it. Your wedding will come a week before the Milan Fashion Week, and right after London Fashion Week. There’s a gap, so it’ll be perfect,” she said.

Mel screamed in delight. “Thank you! You have no idea how big this means to me! So, when can I expect you?”

“Wait…I’ll check first to be sure.” She quickly skimmed her appointments for the next two weeks. She had an editorial shoot for Vanity Fair two days before Melissa’s wedding. She knew the editor and she was pretty positive she can get it rescheduled to a later date.

“Well?”

“I’ll be there, Mel. Expect me on the eve of your wedding.”

“But you’ll be jet-lagged!” Mel exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, I promise not to trip during the wedding ceremony,” she joked.

Mel laughed happily.

“It’s really lovely hearing your voice again, Dana. I know these past weeks had been difficult for you. Hey, you know what? Treat the wedding as a mini-vacation for you. The paparazzi can’t follow you here,” her friend offered.

Jordana thought for a minute. Paparazzi-free? It was a very tempting offer.

“And oh! Before I forget…Rocco’s best friend and best man will also be here for the wedding….maybe you could—” Mel was hinting heavily.

“Ha! You still haven’t changed! You’re still trying to pair me off with someone!”

“Can you blame me? I have two hundred six bones in my body…all of them romantic at the moment.”

They laughed together and happily spent the next two hours catching up and planning for the wedding.

VI HEADQUARTERS

ROME, ITALY

“You drunk? You’re talking shit,”
Lonzo exclaimed at his bestfriend’s bombshell.

“Come on, man. Be a pal. Can’t you even fake a happy face for your oldest mate?” Rocco Romolini replied, brushing his jibe off.

“You’re stoned. Your cousin Joey must be around and gave you a joint.”

Rocco smirked. “I’m not stoned! But I have to agree with you there. Joey always has great hash.”

“You can’t be serious about this! Damn, you just met this girl…what…three months ago? And now you’re marrying her? You fucking swallowed your nuts or something?” he derided.

They shared the same principle when it came to women: love them, indulge them, then make a run for the door before they can have a chance to tie you up. Marriage was a word he never associated with Rocco. His best bud wasn’t even choosy or particular. The man was a veritable lady-killer and they had been each other’s wingman since their teens.

And now he’s getting hitched? Monogamy? Christ, what has the world come down to?!

His friend looked affronted.

“Lonz, my fiancee is a great woman. I have to say, not my usual type. She’s got brains, that one, not just looks,” Rocco explained with a dreamy look in his eyes.

Fuck, no!
The unknown woman had turned his pal into a wimp.

“Look at you. She’s got both of your balls and now lead you by your dick, you wuss.” he said sarcastically.

Rocco frowned. “Hey, hey…keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, asshole. That’s my fiancée you’re defaming. And for your perverted mind’s info…I haven’t slept with her…yet,” Rocco answered in irritation.

“You’ve grown a vagina. What’s with you, man? You just turned up here all fucked up in the head. What did she do to you? Brainwashed you with her pussy?” he continued.

He couldn’t fathom why Rocco had to marry the woman. If he wanted to have a kid to inherit someday, that could be arranged through surrogates. But to actually get married? Shackles? Lunacy!

“Fuck off, Lonzo. She’s not just some random chick, you know? She’s the real deal, man. I just knew she’s
the one
the moment I met her. It’s inevitable. I just fell like a ton of bricks.”

What a bunch of bullcrap. The woman conditioned Rocco, Lonzo was sure of it.

“Three months, man! You’ve known her for three months! You’ve known your dog longer than her. Did you even had the smarts to have her background investigated first? What if she’s just after your money? What if her father’s a sociopath and her mother’s serial killer? Stop thinking with your dick! You could be raising future suicide bombers—”

Rocco laughed heartily at his tirade.

“I know her well enough to know that she’s the woman for me. And I do know something about her family. Her dad was a famous photographer and her mother is the youngest daughter of a marquis in England. So I think my future children won’t be carrying bombs and blowing themselves off. They will be perfect and good looking like their dad.”

He regarded his friend with a quizzing look.

“So, you’re marrying for pedigree now? Since when did you start caring about bloodlines? You don’t even bloody need it. You’re a fucking
conte
since your dad died!”

Rocco just grinned.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Stop. You can’t change my mind. I’m marrying her. It’s a done deal, get used to the idea. So give me your freaking answer now because I have to leave for a fitting and then meet my future wife for lunch. Don’t want to be late. My little darling’s too British.”

“Answer to what?”

Rocco raised his brows. “You as best man at my fucking wedding, what else? I didn’t brave the traffic just to see if you’re wounded with the barbs that the Agnellis are throwing at you in the media. I know that your hide is too thick to be pierced by those
cazzos
. Because you’re a bigger
cazzo
.”

“No,” he said to annoy his friend.

“Yes, you will! Mama actually insisted that you’ll have to be in the entourage. Care to say that to my mother?”

“Shit,” Lonzo muttered. He wouldn’t be able to say no to Rocco’s mom. She was like a surrogate mother to him. One of a handful of women he held in the highest esteem.

His evil friend knew how to use his aces well. Dickhead.

“So are you coming or not?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He hated the idea of attending weddings.

Rocco cackled like a hyena. He knew he got his affirmative in the bag. Douche. His friend whistled a soundless tune as he locked his arms behind his head.

Lonzo wanted to shoot him.

“I am busy. You know your way out,” he replied dismissively.

“By the way, here’s an incentive for your attendance: Mel’s asking her best friend to be the maid of honor. You may want to check her out.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duh. Because she’s a supermodel.”

He sneered at Rocco. “And so? Aside from the height and their more-than-average vanity, they’re no different than other women. Unlike you, my friend, I know where women stand in my life. Or rather, I prefer them on their backs.”

“She’s Jordana Almueda. Half of my male relatives are actually hankering me for her number.”

The name rang a bell. Then it registered inside his head. She was the swimsuit and Victoria’s Secret supermodel who swore she was a virgin.

He snorted.

She was in no way different from the supposed virgins who auctioned their hymens over eBay. She had asked for the attention. The media went crazy over her ‘revelation’ and was now on the paparazzi watch list 24/7.

A glamorous profile picture of her flashed on television a few nights ago. Quite a stunner. Beautiful, in fact. In an unconventional way. He’d never met her in person. Not that he was interested. He didn’t go out of his way to meet women. They came to him, not the other way around.

She’s got curves in all the right places, all right. More than likely, she’d be lacking in gray matter. Not that he cared about a woman’s mind either. He had never let any woman get into his mind or near his heart. Only his cock.

“I’m not one of your relatives, Rocco. Thank God for small mercies. Besides, she’s one of those publicity-hungry types who needs constant attention.”

“You’re becoming too cynical, man. Mel stands by what she said. My bride says her best friend really is a virtuous woman. She walks the talk. I even heard she reads the bible while getting primped.”

He finally snorted. Virtuous women?
Hah!
No such creatures. They were just women who never got themselves caught while doing something naughty.

“Rocco, really…you now subscribe to gossip mags?! You actually believe that crap manufactured by publicists? She poses in racy mags, wearing practically nothing to rouse us poor males into a frenzied state and you want me to believe that she’s untouched?” he said incredulously.

“Haven’t met her yet. But I do believe my bride-to-be. Mel says she’s innocent. So that’s that.”

“Then you’ve been turned into a gullible fool. Sheesh. Virginity and lingerie don’t mix. They just don’t. She’s just putting on a publicity stunt for additional media mileage. That’s how it’s done now in the era of the Kardashians and the Bored-Housewives-of-Jersey.”

Rocco just shook his head at him. “Jesus, Lonzo…you really are a lost cause! You already wrote a hundred-page position paper without even meeting the woman! I can’t believe you really despise womenfolk like that.”

“I don’t hate them. I’m no misogynist. They are thoroughly enjoyable in another exercise. See, I just happen to know them too well. I know how they operate. Unlike some people I know, I will never allow a woman to take the reins.” There was finality in his voice when he said every word. “You should know better, my friend. Run. Now. There’s still time.”

Rocco just sat there grinning as he listened to Lonzo’s rant.

“Never say the word never, man. It may bite you in the end,” he said with a smirk. “I should know. It bit me.”

“You wish, you ass. Okay, I’ll be at your shackling ceremony. Not for your sake but for your
madre
.”

Rocco’s grin grew bigger.

“Don’t forget to wear a monkey suit. My bride insisted and Mama concurred.”

“I already said I’ll be there! Now get out of my office before I call my security guys and have your sorry ass thrown out.”

Rocco was too pleased with his acquiesce, whistling on his way out of Lonzo’s office.

“You will be singing a different tune a year from now. By then, you’ll come to your senses and will be begging me to give you Capolinera’s number,” Lonzo called out, referring to the best divorce lawyer in Rome.

But it seemed that no amount of insult can knock that stupid, happy look on Rocco’s face. He had seen that exact same look on the faces of his unsuspecting male friends who were hypnotized into marriage.

“No, by next year, I will be the one ribbing you for putting on the shackles, my old friend. No doubt about it. And Lonzo, please don’t be late. You won’t be upsetting my dear old Mama, will you?” Rocco was really squeezing every drop of enjoyment from his visit.

“Go fuck off,” Lonzo said in a parting shot.

He heard Rocco’s loud laugh from outside his office, reinforcing his assumption that his friend’s head was whacked.

Chapter Four

She flew in from London yesterday
just for this shoot and after toiling ten hours under the bright studio lights, Jordana was happy it was over. Another Vogue cover to add to her already thick modeling book.

Anna Wintour herself came to preside over the entire affair—her vision of Zen elegance captured with each still she bestowed with glacier approval.

Wintour was such a taskmaster. Everyone on the set were jumping on her command, and that included the photographer. It was no wonder her previous assistant so loved and hated her that the same assistant wrote a semi-autobiographical book about the legendary Vogue editor. Regardless of her reputation as a she-devil-in-Prada, Jordana respected the mercurial fashion editor. She’d like to think that Anna felt the same about her. Francesca said it was always Anna who’d asked for her. That she considered her over fellow supermodels and A-list celebs spoke volumes.

She gave a sigh of relief when the rented limo took her back to the hotel.