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Authors: Jackie Collins

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Chapter Fifty-One

R
eactions to Hamilton’s photos as they were passed around the Standards’ dinner table differed.

Mandy cried out in shock.

Anya simply stared blankly at the incriminating photos.

Cameron shook her head in disbelief.

Don let out a long low whistle.

Phil suppressed a crazed guffaw.

Lucy was livid. Her script surprise was supposed to be the big deal of the night. This had ruined everything.

And Ryan–well, Ryan was speechless as he realized that somehow he’d been set up.

The photos–six of them–were a series of shots of him and Anya in Don’s house. Anya, standing in front of him naked but for the lacy black thong, while he–thank God–remained fully dressed.

He knew
exactly
what the photos represented, but to an uninvolved observer they told a completely different story.

“Anything to hide now?” Hamilton crowed, quite enjoying himself.

“You
bastard
!” Mandy hissed at her husband. “How could you do this to Daddy and me?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Ryan managed, unable to face Cameron across the table. God! What must she think of him?

“I’m under the distinct impression it’s exactly what it looks like,” Hamilton said coldly. “It
looks
as if you are about to fuck my wife while I’m conveniently out of town. I knew you were a no-good sonofabitch the moment Mandy dragged you home, and now you’ve finally proved it.”

Ryan glanced at Anya. Now was the time for her to speak up, rescue him like he’d rescued her seven years earlier. But she remained silent, her face devoid of expression.

“We were talking, nothing else,” Ryan said, making an attempt to explain, and realizing how lame he must sound.

“Talking?” Hamilton sneered. “Is that right, Pola, dear? The two of you were just talking?”

She kept her silence, eyes downcast.

“You two must have so much to talk about,” Hamilton said with a sarcastic smirk. “My wife and the man who’s married to my daughter.”

Surprising everyone, Mandy leaped to her feet and unexpectedly slapped Ryan hard across the face. “Bastard!” she yelled for the second time. “How dare you humiliate me!”

Don jumped up. “You know something, Hamilton,” he said angrily. “You’re totally out of line bringing this up here tonight. It’s your business, not ours, and none of us appreciate being dragged into it. You should have more consideration for your daughter’s feelings. What kind of a father are you?”

“A very generous father,” Hamilton said, his tone icy. “A father who cares about the scum his daughter associates with.”

“Oh,” Don said scornfully. “And I suppose it’s not your wife in the photos bare-assed naked.”

“Please, everybody,” Lucy said, desperate to get the evening back on track, although deep down she realized it was impossible. All her scheming, all her plans, and now
this
. Damn Hamilton, she’d never liked him. “Can we all calm down.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” Don said. “Cameron and I are out of here. This isn’t our business, and we don’t care to be involved.” He put
his hand on Cameron’s shoulder, and she started to push her chair back from the table. As she did so, a loud crash came from the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh my God!” Lucy exclaimed, simmering with frustration. “What now?”

Phil got up. “Please all stay put,” he said, taking charge. “I’ll be right back.”

As he hurried toward the kitchen he thought about the girl in the photos. Hamilton’s wife. There was something about her without her clothes on that struck a chord. Phil never forgot a naked woman, and he’d seen this one before. But where? He couldn’t quite place her.

Pushing open the swing doors to the kitchen he came face to face with a man holding a gun.

Christ! If he’d written a script for this evening he could never have come up with this. He spotted the chef and the barman both tied up on the floor. This was a fucking home invasion on top of everything else.

Shit! Where was the panic button? He couldn’t remember.

“Evenin’, mate,” said the man with the gun, a big fellow, around thirty, with a weathered and deeply tanned complexion. “Nothin’ t’ get alarmed about, this is a social visit.”

Double
shit
! An Australian burglar who thought he could be cute and get away with it.

“Take it easy,” Phil said, speaking slower than usual. “I’ll lead you to the safe. You can take whatever you want and go. Nobody’s going to get in your way.”

“It’s not money I’m after,” the burglar said, breathing heavy whisky fumes in Phil’s direction. “Although I can always use a few thou’ cash.”

“What is it then? Jewelry? Computers?”

“You’re damn generous, mate, but what I really came for is my wife.”

“Your wife?” Phil said, his mind racing. Could this be one of Lucy’s deranged fans from the past? Yes, it was possible. She still received a stack of crazy fan mail and sometimes a few obscene scribbled notes.

“That’s right,” the gunman said. “My fuckin’ evil wife.”

Phil took a deep breath, this evening was getting weirder by the minute. Then it suddenly occurred to him that maybe this had something to do with Lucy’s script presentation. He wouldn’t put it past her to conjure up some insane goings-on, her way of making sure he was punished properly for his major indiscretion.

The maybe or maybe not burglar jerked his gun at Phil. “Let’s take a trip back inside an’ join your friends,” he ordered.

Phil blinked rapidly and tugged on his beard. “Certainly,” he said, playing along. “Phil Standard at your service.”

 

“We’re going,” Don said to Cameron in a low voice. “I can’t take anymore of this. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not,” she replied, watching as Mandy began berating Ryan, screaming in his face. “I feel so bad for Ryan.”

“Yeah, so do I, but this isn’t the time or the place to handle anything. He’s a big boy, he’ll deal.”

Cameron wondered what exactly was going on. Ryan was not the kind of man who would cheat with his father-in-law’s wife. Besides, he was fully dressed in the photos, so something wasn’t right.

“Lucy,” Don said, turning to his distressed hostess, “we really gotta go. I know you understand.”

Lucy couldn’t think of anything she could say to keep them there.

As Cameron and Don walked toward the door of the dining room there was a sudden commotion. Phil was roughly shoved
through the door, almost knocking Cameron down. Right behind him was a man with a gun.

Cameron recovered her balance and then she froze.

The man with the gun was Gregg. The husband she’d thought she’d escaped from years ago.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Marlon was getting more than antsy–he was also getting stoned. Lucy had smuggled him into her house like a criminal and stashed him in a windowless box of a maid’s room. Wasn’t there some kind of law about bedrooms without windows? Yeah, he was sure about it.

His dealings with Lucy were not exactly the way he’d imagined writing a script would go. No proper script meetings, only an occasional visit from her with her comments scribbled on the back of the page. No fancy lunches out with an agent, he’d negotiated the deal himself. Ten grand cash and he’d write her a script. No contract. Nothing.

His dad, the lawyer, would freak if he got wind of what he’d agreed to. But–shit–it was Lucy Lyons he was working with–she of the great tits. Man, he’d jacked off thinking about those tits many a long lonely night. And now he’d seen ’em–up close and personal–and that had to be better than some half-assed contract.

She’d stopped by earlier with a plate of hors d’oeuvres–like that was going to solve his hunger problem. He’d scoffed the lot, but he was still starving.

Lighting up a third joint, he tried to alleviate the boredom by thinking about his sex life. It wasn’t bad–he had three girlfriends
on the go–three hot foxy girls all under nineteen. And there lay the problem. They were girls, not women, and it seemed he’d developed a taste for women. Ever since Cameron Paradise he’d had a yen to get together with another woman like her. It wasn’t as if they’d indulged in long philosophical conversations or anything like that–but the bed action–sweet. And then one day Cameron vanished, changed her cell number and never came back.

If only Lucy hadn’t chickened out it could’ve been even sweeter. Yeah…much much sweeter.

He checked the time, it was getting later by the minute.

Hmm…later by the minute–did that even make sense?

Hell, no.

Jeez, how long did she expect him to sit here? He wasn’t doing it for much longer, that was for sure. If she didn’t come and get him soon–script presentation or not–he was out of there.

Chapter Fifty-Three

G
regg had them all lined up in a row, sitting on the floor against the dining-room wall. The gun in his hands made him feel all-powerful–especially as none of them knew who he was yet, and Cameron hadn’t opened her mouth.

His intention had not been to hold up a room full of people. His intention had been to crash the party, humiliate Cameron, and take her off with him back to where she belonged. But circumstances had a way of evolving, and when the bartender had come across him trying to prise open the kitchen door, they’d gotten into an altercation which had ended with Gregg beating the crap out of the man, then bursting into the kitchen, overcoming the chef and tying them both up.

Gregg was strong. Muscles of steel. Back in Hawaii he’d worked out twice a day. Don’t even think about messing with Gregg Kingston.

Then he’d remembered he had a gun with him–and why not use it? So he’d taken it from the waistband of his pants, and that sure made everyone jump to attention. Yeah, including Cameron. He was getting off watching the expressions on her face. At first she’d registered total shock, followed by bewilderment and finally resignation.

The bitch knew exactly why he was here. But her boyfriend
didn’t. Famous Prick was in for one helluva big surprise. Gregg couldn’t wait to see
his
face when the truth came out.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Cameron spoke up, infuriating him. “I have to apologize to everyone,” she said in a strained voice. “This man is my…” she could barely get the words out–“husband.”

Don gripped her arm tightly. “Tell me you didn’t just say that,” he muttered. “Tell me you’re lying.”

“What?”
yelled Mandy, outraged. “Your
husband
! Oh my
God
! Is this a robbery? Did you two set it up?”

“Gregg,” Cameron said, keeping her voice low and even, “you don’t want to do this. Put the gun down, let everyone go, and you and I will talk.”

“Fuck!” Gregg yelled, continuing to brandish the gun around. “The bitch wants to
talk
. Can you believe it? The bitch left me for dead in Hawaii three years ago. Yeah, you heard me he shouted, focusing his attention on Don. “Left me for dead an’ ran off in the middle of the night.” Picking up a bottle of red wine from the table he took a few solid gulps. “Yeah, I was in a fucking coma for months, but she didn’t give a shit; she thought I was a goner.”

“Daddy!” Mandy moaned, quite appalled. “
Do
something.”

Hamilton started to stand up, a look of controlled fury on his face.

“Forget about it, old man,” Gregg growled, turning on him. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Hamilton sat down again.

“What do you want?” Ryan asked, remaining calm, even though the shock of finding out that the man with the gun was Cameron’s husband was quite a revelation. “Tell me what it is and I’ll try to arrange it.”

Gregg’s bloodshot eyes swiveled to encompass Ryan. “Who died an’ made
you
king of the group?” he snarled.

“You must want something,” Ryan said, persisting.

“Yeah,
her
,” Gregg said, gesturing toward Cameron with his gun. “I want the lying bitch to come with me now.”

Cameron rose to her feet. She could not believe this was happening, she only knew there was no way she could allow it to continue. She had to do something.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” she said.

“You’re coming all right,” Gregg sneered. “Every night with your new boyfriend. But didja know that while you’re comin’, he’s been fuckin’ the shit outta Mary Ellen whatever, an’ she’s knocked up by him? Didja know
that
, my lovely wife?” Reaching into his shirt pocket he produced Mary Ellen’s note. “Ya don’t believe me, read this,” he said, throwing it at her.

The note fell to the floor and Don picked it up.

“Where’s the panic button in here?” Phil whispered to Lucy.

“Under the table,” she whispered back. “Right where you sit.”

“See if you can get to it.”

“I’ll try.”

Gregg was busy swigging more red wine and enjoying Don’s expression as he quickly scanned Mary Ellen’s note.

“I’ll write you a check for fifty thousand dollars right now if you let us go,” Hamilton said, speaking up.

“Fifty thou–” Gregg said, squinting at the famous producer. “Is that all your friends are worth t’ you?”

“A hundred thousand.”

“Do I look stupid?” Gregg demanded, his voice rising. “Do I look like a Sheila with no frigging brains?”

“How much?” Hamilton said.

“How much, the man asks me,” Gregg said, quite in his element. “How friggin’ much. Well, I dunno–a million or two might do it.”

“Fine,” Hamilton said.

Gregg roared with laughter and gulped wine from the bottle. “You rich fuckin’ assholes think you can buy anythin’, doncha?
Well, you can’t buy Gregg Kingston, no siree, no can do. Gregg Kingston’s not for sale.”

Cameron recognized the frame of mind Gregg was in only too well. Drunk and belligerent, violent and out of control. She’d seen him like this so many times, but never with a gun in his hands. This was a nightmare, there was no predicting what he was capable of.

“I need water,” Lucy said, standing up and leaning against the wall. “If I don’t have water I think I’m going to faint.”

Gregg looked at her for the first time, his eyes dipping to her breasts–on display in her Hervé Léger dress. “Aren’t you that movie-star piece of ass?” he said, checking her out. “Saw you in—”


Blue Sapphire
,” she said, moving over to the table and reaching for a glass of water, surreptitiously sliding her other hand under the table and pressing the panic button.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Gregg said, pleased with himself for recognizing her.

Lucy put down the glass and returned to sit with the others. “Did it,” she whispered to Phil. He squeezed her hand.

Cameron could not take her eyes off Gregg. She’d kept her marriage a dirty little secret, and now Gregg was here because of her–threatening everyone. It wasn’t right. She’d left this man three years ago, this man who’d beaten and abused her. She’d left with a broken arm and a battered face and she’d been scared out of her mind.

But things were different now, she wasn’t scared anymore. Oh no, she’d grown up, discovered new strengths within herself, and now she possessed an inner confidence she’d never known she had. If only she could persuade him to leave with her, then maybe no one would get hurt.

“Gregg,” she said, her voice sharp and clear. “Let’s go. Leave these people alone, they’ve done nothing to you.”

“Fuck it, little Cammy,” Gregg said, rocking back and forth on the heels of his cowboy boots. “I’m kinda enjoyin’ myself. I’m
getting’ offered all kinds of money, meetin’ movie stars, an’ I like it. I can see why you get off on livin’ here, it’s a cushy set-up for a gal from the sticks.” Once again he swiveled his head to stare at Don. “How’s she doin’ in the sack now? I taught her everything she knows. Cammy was a virgin when I got her. Not a bad learner, had to teach her to suck a cock. You likin’ it?”

“You sonofabitch—” Don said, starting to get up.

Moving swiftly, Gregg whacked him across the side of his face with the butt of his gun, cutting Don’s cheek and drawing blood.

Mandy screamed. Ryan tried to get up and do something–anything. But Gregg was quicker. Twirling the gun like a movie gunfighter, he fired off a shot.

The bullet hit the wall and ricocheted across the room.

“That’s like a warnin’ I mean business,” Gregg snarled. “An’ just so you rich motherfuckers know, the next one hits flesh. So fuckin’ settle your asses down, an’ stop pissin’ me off.”

BOOK: Married Lovers
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