"He has an agenda, does he?" Lucky said drily.

"Doesn't everyone?" Venus snapped back.

"If you say so."

"You're just not used to seeing me so happy and fulfilled," Venus said, hunching her shoulders.

Lucky took a long deep breath. "Are you?" she asked.

"Am I what?"

"Happy and fulfilled."

"Yes, I am," Venus said with a defiant toss of her head.

"You don't look it."

"Oh, for God's sake," Venus said cuttingly. "Are looks all you care about?"

Lucky held her temper in check. Who the hell did Venus think she was talking to? She'd never seen her like this.

"Let me tell you something," she said at last. "I don't think you know me at all, 'cause if you did, you'd understand that the last thing I'm into is looks. Here's what bothers me-it's the expression in your eyes."

"Really?" Venus sniped. "And what expression would that be?"

"Are you high?"

"If I was," Venus answered grandly, "it would be because my role calls for me to be in that state. You seem to forget that I'm playing a drug addict. If there's one thing Hugo demands, it's realism."

"I bet he does."

"Hugo warned me that it would be a mistake to see you," Venus said, picking up her glasses. "He told me not to come, and he was right."

Lucky realized that there was no reasoning with Venus while she was under the great Hugo's spell; there was nothing to be gained from carrying on this conversation.

Venus obviously felt the same way, because she rose to her feet and said abruptly, "I have to go."

Lucky nodded and also got up. "So do I," she said crisply.

They parted awkwardly, Venus all set to run back to her Svengali, Lucky more than ready to catch her flight back to L.A. and Lennie, who was waiting for her.

She was somewhat saddened by the state Venus was in. They'd been friends for a very long time, and she hated to see the way Hugo was taking advantage of her. Venus was not an actress, she was an amazing singer, dancer, and performer. Nobody put on a show like Venus. She outpaced them all-including Beyonce and Rihanna.

Now Hugo was trying to turn her into a serious actress. Really? Because in Lucky's opinion, Venus was heading for career suicide, and she hated having to bear witness to the disaster that was bound to take place.

Still ... Venus was a grown woman, and like Lucky, she'd always done things her way, so there was no stopping her. Venus had to figure it out for herself, and when she did, Lucky would be right there to pick up the pieces.

She checked her watch, realizing that it was time to get to the airport and home to Lennie, the love of her life.

Before leaving Vegas, she put in a call to her father, Gino-or Gino the Ram as he was once known. Or Gino the Enemy, because they sure as hell had experienced enough crazy knockdown fights over the years. Memorable ones. However, time and age had turned Gino into an almost mellow man, and she loved him dearly in spite of their rocky past.

"Hey," she said into her cell phone. "It's me, your long-lost daughter."

"Kiddo," he responded affectionately. "What's goin' on?"

"How are you?"

"Breathing."

"I want to see you. I miss you. It's been weeks."

"You miss me, huh?" he said, sounding pleased.

"You know I do. I hate that you're stuck out in the desert."

"Then whyn't you haul your pretty ass to Palm Springs an' come visit, 'cause I'm sittin' here doin' shit."

"I'm so not into Palm Springs," she said. "It's way too quiet for me, I don't know how you stand it. Aren't you bored? Everyone's either on their way to being dead or totally gay."

"Well, since I ain't gay, kiddo, I guess that makes me on my way to bein' dead."

"Ha-ha!"

"You've always pushed t' be smack in the middle of the action, ever since you were a little kid."

"Look who's talking."

Gino gave a hearty laugh.

"Okay, let me run this by you," she said enthusiastically. "Why don't you haul your pretty ass to Vegas next weekend? You're just like me, and I know you miss the action. Plus I've got exciting new plans to tell you about."

"How exciting?" he rasped.

"Plenty exciting," she responded.

"I'll think about it."

"C'mon, Gino," she urged. "Don't think-do. You know you want to."

"Lemme check with Paige."

"Oh come on! Since when did you have to check with the wife?"

"Since I got old," he said ruefully.

"You're not old, and Paige doesn't have to come."

"I'll tell her you said so."

"Don't do that," Lucky said quickly. "She'll be pissed. Anyway, is it wrong that I want you all to myself for a change?"

"Okay, kiddo," Gino said, chuckling again. "You got yourself a date."

"Promise?"

"I'll be there."

Lucky clicked off her phone with a smile on her face. Gino, Gino, Gino. There were times she really missed him. They had to get together more often. He was getting older every day; who knew how long he'd be around?

She started thinking about the time-way back-when he'd married her off to boring Craven, Senator Richmond's son, right after her sixteenth birthday. Oh yes, she'd been a wild one, and Gino had thought that was the only way to control her. How wrong was that? She'd been a baby, a teenager he'd delivered to a political family for his own gain. But she'd showed everyone a few years later when she'd gotten a divorce and taken over Gino's business while he was out of the country on a tax evasion deal.

Screw getting trapped in a dull marriage. She was a true Santangelo, exactly like Gino. She'd seized her future and run with it.

It was all light-years away, so why was she thinking about it now?

Because she couldn't help herself. Memories-even the bad ones-kept her strong, kept her going.

Oh Gino. You were a tough father, but you made me the woman I am today. And I love you so much.

Danny was waiting outside, sitting patiently in the back of a dark blue town car.

"We're off," Lucky said, jumping in next to him. "L.A., here we come."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

"Hello," the woman in the red dress murmured in a low, husky voice. "Would it bother you if I sat with you for a moment?"

Bobby glanced up. He was in no mood to be polite and make small talk. However, the young woman standing by his table was the Latina Michelle Pfeiffer clone he'd noticed earlier, so what was he supposed to do?

"Uh ... hi," he responded.

The woman didn't hesitate. Without waiting for Bobby to invite her, she slid into the booth next to him.

He took a quick look around, searching for M.J., who was nowhere in sight. Then he spotted his partner on the dance floor making out with a girl in tight pink jeans and a backless top. M.J. was obviously busy. No help there.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he inquired, uncomfortable, yet at the same time intrigued. What man wouldn't be?

"I'm sorry to say that it's my cousin," she said, her accented voice soft and alluring. "He is a very controlling man, always telling me what I can and cannot do."

"That doesn't mean you have to listen, does it?" Bobby said, perplexed.

"I am his cousin. He is a man," she said with a helpless shrug of her bare shoulders. "There is nothing I can do."

"What exactly is he telling you?"

"He warned me that I should not marry my fiance-the man I love. He insists that I should break up with him."

Bobby frowned. How the fuck had he gotten involved in this conversation? The woman might be a beauty, but he wasn't interested in her story. He had Denver, and as work-obsessed and annoying as his girlfriend could be, he still loved her, and he certainly had no plans to be unfaithful-even though after almost two weeks apart, he was horny as hell. Not that this delectable creature seemed to be coming on to him. She was engaged, and she'd just told him that she was in love too. Someone had probably pointed him out as one of the owners of the club, so she'd figured he was safe to talk to.

"Okay, so how can I help?" he asked.

"Nobody can help me," she said with another small, hopeless gesture. "I must learn to stand up for myself, although I know that is not easy." Her soft brown eyes filled with tears. "I am Nadia," she added.

"Bobby," he said, inhaling her musky scent, which he had to admit was intoxicating.

"I know," she said, big brown eyes fixed on his.

"How do you know?"

"Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos. Our waiter told us that you own this club."

"That's right," he said, reminding himself to write a stern memo to all staff members about giving out personal information. It pissed him off.

"I didn't mean to bother you..." she said softly.

"No bother."

Her eyes stayed on his, holding the gaze a moment too long.

"It's simply that-" she started to say.

"What?"

"Oh, it is nothing. I should go back to my table."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, thank you. My cousin will calm down. Underneath all the macho gesturing, he is a good man. The problem is, he has a bad temper when he doesn't get his own way, especially when he drinks too much."

"As long as he doesn't take it out on you."

"He wouldn't do that," she murmured. "I am his family."

"You're sure?" Bobby said, realizing that there was something about her that was bringing out the protective streak in him.

"Yes, I am sure," she said, sliding out of the booth, a heady combination of demure and seductive, her red dress clinging to every curve. "Thank you for listening to me, Bobby. I should get back to my cousin." Then she was making her way across the club to her table, a vision in red.

M.J. left the dance floor and came rushing over, trailed by the girl in the pink jeans. "What was that all about?" he wanted to know.

"Beats me," Bobby said, trying to figure it out for himself.

"She was all over you, man," M.J. pointed out.