"Surely you want to see everything?" Alejandro taunted.

Snatching the remote from Alejandro's hand, Rafael hurled it across the room. The TV screen went blank.

"Too bad," Alejandro said. "The climax is the best part."

"What do you want?" Rafael said flatly.

"Why would you think I want anything?"

"Cut the shit and tell me what it is."

"Something simple," Alejandro said, a malevolent gleam in his eyes. "I want you to convince my father to give me twenty million dollars. I am about to become a very famous Hollywood filmmaker, and you are going to help me do it."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.

Receiving the news about Bobby hit Lucky hard. She could barely take it in, it was so shocking. Not that she believed for one moment that her son was guilty of such a crime. Still ... Bobby had been arrested. He was locked up in jail, which explained why he hadn't returned her calls.

She was desperate to speak to him, yet she knew that flying to Chicago was premature until she discovered exactly what was going on.

After listening to Bobby's urgent message, she'd immediately contacted an old acquaintance, Beverly Villiers. Way back, Beverly-who was now a prominent defense attorney in Chicago-had dated her half brother, Steven. Lucky always kept tabs on people-where they were and what they were doing. It often paid off, and Beverly's reputation was stellar.

"Don't worry about a thing," Beverly had assured her over the phone. "I'll get right on it."

Lucky trusted Beverly to find out exactly what was going on, then she would decide what her next move should be.

Palm Springs beckoned, although it occurred to her that there was nothing to do there except sit around the house with Paige, and the thought of spending time with her stepmother disgusted her. Paige had turned out to be an unfeeling bitch, and Lucky hated the way she was behaving.

She called Detective Allan.

Big surprise, he had no news.

"As soon as you release Gino's body, let me know," she instructed the detective. "I'll be flying him to Vegas for the funeral."

"You do know there'll have to be an autopsy," Detective Allan warned her.

"I understand," she said, trying not to think about her father's lifeless body lying on a cold slab in the morgue waiting to be carved up. It was simply too much to contemplate. "How soon can that happen?"

"We're making it a priority," Detective Allan assured her.

"Keep me informed," she said, all business. "And if you come up with any new leads," her voice faltered for a moment. "Anything at all-"

Detective Allan promised he would be in daily contact.

His words were hardly encouraging. It was time to get serious about finding out who had executed Gino. There was a murderous son of a bitch out there, and Lucky had every intention of tracking him down.

She needed help, so she contacted Chris Warwick, a private investigator who'd done work for her in the past at the Keys.

Chris was the real deal. Before setting up his own one-man practice as a PI, he'd completed two tours of duty in Afghanistan, and also worked as private security for a construction company in the Middle East. He was tough and smart, plus he excelled at his job. Over the years, he'd never failed her-whether it be tracking someone's cheating husband or persuading a gambler on a losing streak to pay up, he always got the job done.

Within the hour, he arrived at the Malibu house.

Chris looked nothing like people expected a PI to look like. He was tall and well built, with honest brown eyes and sandy hair. In his early forties, he had an unthreatening, easygoing stance that worked well for his job. Upon meeting Chris, everybody trusted him-which sometimes led to their downfall, because behind the cheery faade lurked a wily mind and a body of steel well versed in martial arts.

Sitting down with Chris, Lucky told him everything she knew about Gino's murder. "The cops have come up with nothing," she said. "And I have a strong suspicion that's the way it'll stay."

She showed him the note card with the one printed word: VENGEANCE.

"I'll look into it," Chris said. "In the meantime, I should take a trip to Palm Springs, find out if there's anything the cops missed."

Lucky agreed.

Shortly after Chris left, Gino Junior and Leo arrived at the house. Lucky grabbed the boys in a bear hug, happy to see them. She'd always treated both boys the same, even though Leo was the result of a one-night mistake Lennie had had with an Italian girl, now deceased. Leo was a Lennie look-alike, and Lucky had accepted him into the family when he was very young. Gino Junior, the son she'd had with Lennie, was now a teenager, and resembled a much taller version of his grandfather.

The boys were upset by the news; they clamored for answers that neither she nor Lennie were able to supply. She told them nothing about Bobby-what was the point in drowning them with more bad news? After a while, they drifted off to their rooms, texting friends and playing video games. Later, Lennie took them out for lunch, while Lucky sat down with Danny and began planning Gino's funeral service. She'd already decided that it had to be a huge and memorable event. A day so special that everyone would remember Gino with nothing but love in their hearts.

First she had to work on the guest list. Apart from immediate family, there were so many people who would expect to be invited. Gino had made plenty of friends in high places over the years. Famous, rich, political-Gino had known them all.

Second, she had to decide who she would ask to speak. Steven, of course, and Bobby. Lennie would want to contribute, director Alex Woods, and perhaps talk-show host Jack Python, legendary movie star Charlie Dollar, maybe even Nick Angel, and certainly Venus and Gina Germaine, for Gino would relish plenty of sexy famous women saying wonderful things about him. Important and powerful men too. Why not? This was going to be a party to remember.

The Magiriano Hotel-built by Gino and Lucky way back with love and affection-was where it would all take place. It was the perfect venue. Lucky still owned the hotel, and a management company ran it for her.

At the back of the hotel were beautiful gardens filled with lush greenery and a profusion of flowers. An elaborate fountain stood at the center. Behind the fountain was the Santangelo family mausoleum, where Maria, Dario, and one of the true loves of her life, Marco, had been laid to rest.

Lucky knew for sure that this was where Gino would want to be-next to his beloved wife, his casket forever locked into the cool marble walls of the mausoleum.

To Lucky, the Magiriano would always be a special place. She would never sell it, even though she'd had many offers.

Danny was busy. He'd hired security guards to be at the house-per Lennie's instructions-and also three assistants to help out. The phone was ringing nonstop. Lucky had instructed him to take messages unless it was close family, so when Denver, Bobby's girlfriend, called, he wasn't sure how to handle it. He put Denver on hold and consulted with Lucky, who agreed to take the call.

Lucky appreciated the fact that Bobby had hooked up with a strong woman, not some sexy wannabe model or actress. Not that Denver wasn't sexy-in her own way she was extremely attractive, with a great body. But there was more to her than simply good looks. Denver was supersmart, and Lucky identified with smart women.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Denver said, realizing that her words were a cliche. But what else could one say at a time like this? "It must be devastating for you. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Thanks for asking, though," Lucky replied. "We've got everything covered."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Um ... I can't seem to contact Bobby," Denver ventured. "I thought he might be with you?"

Oh God! Lucky thought. She doesn't know. And I guess I'm the one who's supposed to fill her in. "Listen, Denver," she said evenly. "I hate to be the one to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Denver asked, experiencing a surge of alarm.

"Bobby is still in Chicago. Actually, he's stuck in jail."

"Excuse me?" Denver exclaimed, her heart skipping a beat. "Are you serious? What happened?"

The last thing Lucky felt like doing was informing Bobby's girlfriend that he'd been arrested for murder. "I'm sorry but I can't get into it now," she said quickly. "There's so much going on here. I have a lawyer friend who's dealing with the situation. Danny will give you her number."

Handing the phone over to Danny, she left it with him. Then she called Beverly to get an update.

"I'm on my way to meet with the DA right now," Beverly said. "It looks like a setup to me. I'm hoping to get the charges dropped altogether. If not that, at least a fast bail hearing."

"Tell me exactly what this is about," Lucky said.

Beverly obliged, repeating everything Bobby had told her.

"Jesus Christ!" Lucky exclaimed, and, like Bobby, it immediately occurred to her that the two things could be connected. Gino's murder, and Bobby getting set up. Lennie was right; the entire family needed protection. "How's he doing?" she asked.

"He's holding up," Beverly replied. "I'm afraid I had to tell him about Gino."

"Oh God!" Lucky sighed, filled with sadness at the thought of Bobby locked up and alone, hearing about Gino with no one to turn to. "You've got to get him out of there, Bev. He needs to be here with me and the family."

"I'm trying," Beverly assured her.

"If you think it will help, I can get on a plane," Lucky offered. "I can be there in a few hours."

"It's better if I keep you informed. There's nothing you can do here."

"Okay, I guess. If you say so. Please tell Bobby that we're all thinking of him."

"Will do."

Lucky put down her phone, angry and puzzled. What was going on? Why were terrible things happening? And wasn't it true that bad things always happened in threes? Was there something else to come?

A shudder of apprehension enveloped her. Where was Max?

Oh yes, Max had mentioned she was on her way to Saint-Tropez. But why hadn't she replied to her phone calls?

Once more Lucky picked up her cell.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.

"I want to use only my first name," Max announced, having already decided that there was no way she was going to trade on either of her parents' fame, and the best way to do that was to lose the surnames.

"Ah, but Max Golden is such a pretty combination," Gabriella trilled. "Santangelo too."

"I prefer just Max," she insisted, determined to get her own way, especially as she was feeling pretty confident that she was indeed the chosen one. It was about time she started calling the shots.

They were sitting on one of the luxurious leather couches going over the Dolcezza press release that was about to be sent out to all media before the press conference the next day.

"If that is what you wish-no Golden, no Santangelo," Gabriella sighed, making notes with a fancy pen. "I will inform our press office."

"And another thing," Max said boldly. "I really hate this outfit they've made me wear. It's way too big for me, and who wears jumpsuits, anyway? It's so eighties."

"Jumpsuits are making-how you say-a big comeback," Gabriella said, twirling a heavy gold bracelet on her chubby wrist. "The one you have on is part of the new Dolcezza collection. Although I must admit that it does seem a little big on you."

"A little big!" Max huffed indignantly. "Can't you see that I'm like totally swimming in it?"

"Scusi?"

"Well, not exactly swimming, more like it's so not my style."

Gabriella bobbed her head and wondered why she had been put in charge of the American girl. Where were Natalia and Dante when she needed them? The two of them were supposed to be the creative force of Dolcezza, although in Gabriella's eyes they were both useless. Natalia was obsessed with her womanizing photographer fiance, and Dante was a dangerous drunk. Surely Alfredo should have considered putting her adult children in positions of power? But no, he'd favored his own offspring, giving them the important titles, while her three children did all the real work behind the scenes.

"So you agree?" Max said.

Gabriella wasn't sure what she'd agreed to. This young American girl was quite bossy, unlike the former face of Dolcezza, a voluptuous Swedish model who'd had little to say about anything and jumped into bed with any man who asked. Gabriella nodded anyway.

"Cool," Max said. "I can't wait to get out of this outfit. It sucks."

"Ah yes," Gabriella said, finally realizing what she'd agreed to. "My assistant, Giulia, will take you to the sample room." Gabriella gestured toward Giulia, a sour-faced girl lurking in the background, and fired off a stream of Italian.

"Can I pick out anything I like to wear for the photo session?" Max asked, her confidence rising.

"As long as it is from our new collection," Gabriella said, "I see no problem."

"Got it," Max said, deciding that Gabriella was going to be easy to manipulate. Thank goodness she was dealing with her and not the other sister, who seemed far more formidable.

"Off you go, then," Gabriella said, relieved to relinquish responsibility. "I will see you later."

"Thanks," Max said, skipping out of the room.

After making several phone calls and discovering everything she could about Bobby's arrest, Denver took an Uber cab to the airport. Maybe Lucky felt it wasn't necessary to fly to Chicago, but Denver had no hesitation. Being with Bobby was the right thing to do.

She'd had an unsatisfactory conversation with Beverly Villiers over the phone before speaking with an assistant DA in Chicago whom she happened to know. The news was so ominous, it sent a chill through her. Bobby, her Bobby, arrested for murder. How was that even possible?

Apparently the news had hit the Internet and the newspapers. Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos was making headlines. Handsome, rich, murderer of a beautiful woman. What more could the press ask for?

Before boarding her flight, she connected with M.J., who promised he'd meet her at the airport in Chicago.