Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [73]
Danny repeated his story. He really enjoyed being the centre of attention; it made a welcome change from hovering in the background.
Jeffrey frowned. This did not bode well for the upcoming meeting. If he knew Lucky she couldn’t care less that the man they were meeting with had entertained hookers. But the fact that he’d stiffed them would definitely irk her.
Before Jeffrey had time to think it through, the receptionist announced that the people from Jordan Developments had arrived.
Lucky smiled a slow dangerous smile, her black eyes sparkling.
‘Let the show begin,’ she drawled. ‘This could turn out to be quite interesting.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Armand often reflected on what his life would have been like if he’d been raised as a normal boy in America. He wasn’t normal, he knew that. He was special. He was a Prince. His childhood in Akramshar had been anything but normal. Born in a palace, nursed by women in long black robes who’d barely talked to him when he was a child. And it wasn’t until they’d moved to New York when he was eight, that he’d finally gotten to spend time with his mother. Up until then he’d had very little to do with her. Peggy was merely this dazzling redheaded woman who’d occasionally swooped into the nursery wearing low-cut silken gowns and magnificent jewellery.
The King had different rules for the women in his country. Poor females were not allowed to be educated and wore long body-covering robes at all times. Rich females could do whatever they wanted. Most girls from affluent families were schooled in Europe, and many of them chose not to come back, for arranged marriages at the King’s request were quite normal. Soraya, Armand’s wife, was one of the girls who’d come back.
Armand never gave much thought to Soraya. She was the mother of his children, that pleased the King, and pleasing the great man was all that mattered.
Returning to Akramshar once a year had shaped Armand’s life. He was a tried and true Prince, and one day he might be tempted to let the world know, for he was well aware how impressed Westerners were with titles.
But not today. Today he was buying a hotel, soon to be the jewel in his property empire, the crème de la crème of Vegas.
Armand believed in pampering himself. After imbibing several lines of coke, he thoroughly showered before applying various lotions to his body, spending an inordinate amount of time massaging his balls and fine shaft of manhood. Thinking of the whores from the night before caused him to become so hard that he had no choice but to attend to his needs. Inconvenient but far more enjoyable than being with any woman.
When he was finished, he took another shower, applied more lotions, stared at his reflection for a while, and finally got dressed. First a silk Turnbull & Asser shirt made especially for him in London, a three-hundred-and-fifty dollar tie from Neiman Marcus in Beverly Hills, and finally an eight-thousand-dollar pinstriped custom suit in pearl grey.
Admiring himself once again in the mirror, he had to admit that he made a dashing figure; it was no wonder women pursued him. The New Yorker magazine had recently listed him as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.
New York indeed. How about the world?
* * *
Peggy did not sleep well at all. Her mind wouldn’t allow her to relax. Her mind was buzzing, filled with memories of the young girl who was once the toast of Vegas.
Ah . . . she remembered those times so well. And she also remembered Gino Santangelo. When Fouad had told her the old man’s name she’d been filled with excitement. She’d thought it was him, but she hadn’t been sure. Now she knew.
Seeing Gino again after so many years was quite a surprise. It had brought every long-distance memory crashing back . . .
* * *
LAS VEGAS 1968
Peggy Lindquest. A young, ambitious girl from Ohio. A girl with legs up to here, translucent skin, and fiery red hair. A girl who captured every man’s attention.
Peggy hit town like the proverbial firecracker, filled with the desire to make a career for herself