Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [32]
Bobby had a strong aversion to clubs that featured strippers. He wasn’t one of the guys when it came to a bunch of bored vaguely desperate females taking off their clothes for the public’s pleasure. He felt sorry for the girls, and even sorrier for the usually drunk guys who sat there with their mouths hanging open – hoping for a stray tit to come their way.
The strippers immediately gravitated toward Bobby and M.J. – two handsome, apparently sober guys.
‘Wanna go private, honey?’ a breast-enhanced redhead whispered in Bobby’s ear, her tasselled nipple grazing his cheek.
‘Uh . . . not tonight,’ he managed.
‘You won’t regret it, sweet thing,’ she purred, licking her lips. ‘I got moves you ain’t gonna see on Dancing with the Stars.’
‘I bet,’ he said, backing away and indicating Miss Russia who had shed her jacket and stern expression and was eyeing a small blonde with lustful eyes. ‘Take her private – I’ll pay.’
‘Spoilsport,’ the redhead whispered, but she moved over to the woman, grabbed her by the hand, and led her back to one of the private champagne rooms.
Bobby leaned over to M.J. ‘They’ve signed the papers. You think we can get the hell out of here?’
Before M.J. could answer, Bobby’s cell rang. He almost didn’t hear it, what with Lady Gaga screaming about Paparazzi on the sound system, and the general noise.
It was Denver. He’d tried to reach her earlier to tell her he hadn’t left for New York yet, but she’d not picked up.
‘Hey—’ he said.
‘Hey—’ she responded. ‘What’s all that noise?’
‘Long story,’ he said, delighted to hear her voice.
‘Are you in New York?’ she asked.
‘Got delayed,’ he answered, waving off a determined blonde with painful-looking nipple rings enhancing her overly large fake breasts.
‘What? I can’t hear you.’
‘I’ll call you back.’
‘No. I’m going to sleep. Call me tomorrow.’
‘Will do.’ He clicked off. Nothing worse than an unsatisfactory end to the evening.
Chapter Twelve
An army of hard-working executives made sure that The Keys ran as smoothly as possible considering there was a workforce of thousands. From the Head of Security to the woman in charge of Guest Relations, everyone pitched in, for Lucky had made sure there were plenty of incentives for every employee – whatever their position – to do their best.
When she’d built the hotel she’d put together a syndicate of investors who all held equal shares in the private company she’d created. Very soon she hoped that her investors would begin receiving money back. The Keys was doing well, but the initial investment was monumental, and the downturn in the economy was not helpful. However, the casino was one of the most successful in Vegas – thanks to a band of casino hosts who were the best in the business. The hotel was usually at 90 per cent capacity, plus the apartments had been selling for record-breaking prices.
Lucky was satisfied with the way things were going. The Keys was her child – her love child – created from her desire to build the perfect oasis in Las Vegas, the city where she’d first made her mark when she’d taken over the building of Gino’s hotel after he’d been forced to leave the country as a tax exile.
There were good memories and bad ones. Gino’s money men had refused to deal with a woman, so in the middle of the night she’d paid one of them a visit, held a knife to his balls, and demanded he paid up – otherwise she’d be back to cut ’em off!
Surprise, surprise – he’d paid! Oh yes, that was a fun memory.
Not so funny was remembering Marco, her fiancé, who’d been gunned down next to the hotel swimming pool. And her brother, Dario, murdered and tossed from a moving car.
Lucky refused to dwell on the past. After taking a suitable revenge, she’d moved forward. It was the only way to survive.
The Keys was her tribute to Marco, Dario,