Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [134]
Cursing softly to herself she jumped up, and set off down the path toward the main hotel.
The thought of getting back together with Eddie Falcon was looking more appealing every minute.
* * *
Unable to sleep, Fouad tried, but the tossing and turning would not allow him to fall into a peaceful slumber. He realized that he was so used to being at Armand’s beck and call that not hearing from him for at least twelve hours was disturbing.
Armand’s words kept playing in his head . . . I will see Lucky Santangelo die before she gets the better of me.
Empty threats of course, but Armand was definitely veering out of control with his excessive drug use. An intervention was needed, and it had to happen soon.
Then it came to Fouad – he decided that in the morning he would tell Armand’s mother everything. The drugs, the prostitutes, he might even tell her about Armand’s family in Akramshar, although he knew if he did that, Armand would never speak to him again.
Perhaps it was wise just to inform her about the drugs. Not too much information all at once.
Armand Jordan desperately needed help, and as far as Fouad was concerned, Peggy was the only person he would listen to.
Now Fouad could sleep, for with tomorrow would come the solution.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Annabelle Maestro was the last person Max expected to run into as she made her way down the leafy pathway heading to Billy’s private villa.
Annabelle seemed equally taken aback to see her.
They both stopped, both tried to think of a quick excuse as to why they were there at midnight.
‘Hi,’ Annabelle said at last.
‘Uh . . . hi,’ Max said, thinking that Annabelle did not look like her usually sleek self. She was somewhat dishevelled, and for some unknown reason she was carrying her shoes.
‘Aren’t you at the wrong hotel?’ Annabelle asked. ‘Isn’t The Keys where you should be?’
‘Just uh . . . visiting friends,’ Max said vaguely.
‘Me too,’ Annabelle replied, equally vague.
‘Why are you barefoot?’
‘’Cause my shoes are killing me.’
‘Oh yes, I know the feeling.’
An awkward pause.
‘You’ve got a birthday coming up,’ Annabelle remarked. ‘That’s exciting.’
‘Tomorrow actually.’
‘Happy birthday.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I hear Lucky’s throwing you a big party.’
‘That’s right,’ Max said, wondering if Annabelle was fishing for an invite, because if she was it couldn’t happen on account of Cookie being with Annabelle’s ex.
‘How nice,’ Annabelle said.
‘It is,’ Max agreed.
‘Well . . . uh . . . have a good one.’
‘You too.’
They both scuttled off in different directions, happy to make their respective escapes.
* * *
After waiting around outside the ladies room for a good ten minutes, Bobby tracked down M.J. and told him he was leaving.
‘What happened to Denver?’ M.J. asked.
‘Think she’s mad at me. She took off.’
‘Don’t tell me the great Bobby S. got himself dumped,’ M.J. said, laughing. ‘Finally! There is a God!’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ Bobby said, shaking his head. ‘She’s probably waiting for me in the room.’
‘You hope.’
‘I know, man. She’s got nowhere else to go.’
‘She could hop a plane back to L.A. Denver’s not one to put up with your crap.’
‘What crap?’
‘Half the club saw you dancing with Gia. She’s on the cover of Sports Illustrated, she’s kinda high profile.’
‘C’mon, man, it was nothing.’
‘Yeah, tell that to your girlfriend.’
Bobby hurried from the club and out into the main hotel, where he took the private elevator up to their floor.
To his chagrin their room was empty. No Denver. But the good news was her clothes were still there along with her laptop and her phone. It was no wonder he’d never got an answer when he’d tried to reach her on her cell.
Damnit! Was she going to make him sit and wait for her?
Apparently so.
* * *
Grabbing a cab outside The Cavendish, Annabelle set off for The Keys. She couldn’t believe what she’d almost got herself into. Drunken dancing hookers. An excessive amount of cocaine. A crazy sex fiend with cold hard eyes