Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [84]
‘She’s not going to sell, Armand,’ Fouad said patiently. ‘You heard her. Not to you or anyone else.’
‘Fuck the cunt. I want this hotel, Fouad. And it’s time you got it into your useless head that we are not leaving Vegas until I get it.’
* * *
Peggy enjoyed a leisurely breakfast out by the pool at The Cavendish. Earlier on she’d phoned her son to see if he would care to join her, but there was no answer from either Armand’s cell or his suite. She didn’t mind, she was sure that she presented a mysterious and glamorous figure clad in a white sundress, a large straw hat and Chanel sunglasses, sitting at a table by herself watching the passing parade of tourists and young couples with kids. It was still early, the serious gamblers and bachelor-party groups had yet to emerge.
A middle-aged man in a Hawaiian shirt who was sprawled at a nearby table with his overweight wife couldn’t take his eyes off her. Lust was in the air. Peggy could smell lust a mile off.
She smiled to herself. Vegas agreed with her. Being back here was almost like revisiting her youth. Ah yes, as one of the most desirable and sought-after girls in town she’d created quite a stir. Many a man had fallen for her obvious charms.
Remembering those times was a memory, one she treasured.
Seeing Gino Santangelo had given her a jolt. The fact that he was still alive was a big surprise. She realized that he must be at least ninety-something, because the one memorable night she’d spent with him he was in his fifties, but even so he’d been a vigorous lover, such a powerhouse.
At eighteen she’d considered herself quite experienced, but Gino Santangelo had given new meaning to the act of making love . . .
* * *
LAS VEGAS 1968
Peggy Lindquest and Joe Piscarelli made quite the dashing couple around town. Peggy was a stunner, and Joe was no slouch in the handsome stakes with his wannabe gangster movie-star looks. Their relationship was quite volatile due to major jealousy issues on both sides. Joe, at the age of thirty, had been around and then some, which meant there were quite a few exes in his world. One-nighters, two-nighters, and so on.
Peggy claimed she had only been with one other man – her high-school boyfriend. She was lying, of course, but since she was new to Vegas there was no way of Joe proving otherwise.
They fought like wildcats. And then they made up as if they were starring in a porno movie.
It was their pattern.
The one thing that scared Peggy was Joe’s violent outbursts, and when they got too bad she usually spent the night at a girlfriend’s house. Joe always arrived to collect her the next morning – and all was quiet on the Western front. But Peggy’s girlfriends kept on warning her that Joe’s vile temper could easily escalate and become physical. Peggy refused to believe he would ever hit her.
One night he did act out, shoving her violently across the room. Shocked, she fled to her girlfriend Veronica’s apartment in a panic, tears and everything.
Veronica, a statuesque black beauty who was a dancer in the Folies Bergères show at the Tropicana, was on her way to an exclusive party at Caesars Palace. She insisted that Peggy dry her tears and come with her. Peggy declined, until Veronica whispered in her ear, ‘There’s a rumour Sinatra may show up.’
Frank Sinatra. Every Vegas showgirl’s dream.
Peggy rapidly changed her mind, and the two girls set off to join the party, dressed to conquer.
Sinatra never appeared, but Gino Santangelo was there, and Gino Santangelo was a legendary figure in Vegas.
Peggy set her charm on high beam and went for it. She’d had no idea it would turn out to be such a heavenly experience. The man was not nicknamed Gino the Ram for nothing.
After a short conversation at the party, he invited her upstairs to a sumptuous suite, asked if her breasts were real, whereupon he slowly proceeded to strip her – garment by garment, until she stood before him in her high heels and nothing else.
She wasn’t shy. She