Hmm ... since when had she become "ma'am"?

She'd left Lennie a note on the bathroom mirror. Meeting Chris for breakfast. Will call you later.

He'd be pissed, but so what? She didn't have to answer to him. Truth was, she didn't have to answer to anyone. And the same went for him. Their marriage worked because they gave each other the freedom to do whatever they wanted. Unfortunately, Gino's murder had freaked Lennie out, and that was because he knew what she was capable of, and he didn't want her putting herself in danger. Lennie didn't understand what revenge meant. He did not share the same mind-set on that subject.

The Pacific Coast Highway was clear, no traffic. Lucky raced her Ferrari down the winding stretch of road, impatient to hear what Chris would have to say.

She arrived at Zuma early and spotted Chris's van already there, parked near the food truck.

It occurred to her that although she and Chris shared a great working relationship, she actually knew nothing about his personal life. Was he married? Did he have kids? Or maybe just a girlfriend?

Who knew? Not she. For Gino had taught her that it wasn't wise to pry into people's personal lives, not unless they offered up the information.

Chris was not offering.

She was not asking.

Chris had seen her drive onto the spacious open lot and was already approaching her. "Morning," he said.

"Hard night?" she asked, noticing that he looked tired.

"Flying in and out of Chicago in one day wasn't the greatest. I'm here, though," he said with a casual shrug.

"Let's get coffee," she said, striding toward the food truck as a couple of early-morning surfers passed by all suited up and ready for action.

They both got Styrofoam cups of black coffee and sat down at a wooden picnic table overlooking the ocean.

"I used to come here with Dario when we could escape the Bel Air mausoleum," Lucky reflected, gazing at the breaking waves.

"Your brother?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, Dario was a great kid. Artistic. While all I wanted to do was take over Gino's business."

"That you did."

"Oh yes, I certainly did," she said, sipping her coffee.

"I'm sure Gino was very proud of you."

"Eventually."

"It's going to be another hot one today," Chris said, squinting at the sun.

"Okay," Lucky said. "We're not here to discuss my personal life or the weather. What's the story about Bobby getting set up?"

"You're going to find it hard to believe."

"Try me."

Chris began to explain. "This Pedro dude was hired to go to Bobby's club with a girl as bait to get Bobby to go back to the hotel with her. Then she was to drug him-which she did-and the girl was to get a beating, something Pedro omitted to tell her. The beating was to be blamed on Bobby, so that he'd get arrested and his DA girlfriend would fly to Chicago-taking her mind off the drug kingpin she's working to take down."

"Denver?"

"Is that his girlfriend?"

"Yes. She's part of a drug task force."

"Targeting who?"

"I don't know the details. Bobby does."

"Okay."

"I'm confused," Lucky said, frowning. "Exactly how did this so-called plan turn into a murder?"

"Like I said, the call girl they hired-Nadia-was not warned about the beating. When Pedro started doing his thing, she fought back, he got carried away, and there you go. One dead call girl."

"That's pretty fucked up."

"I told you."

"And you're certain it has nothing to do with Gino's murder?"

"No. We're still at square one on that."

"Who hired this Pedro guy?"

"I can find out if you think it matters. Pedro's story was that he was hired over the phone. Money was paid via bank transfer. I've contacted Detective Cole in Chicago with a full rundown on Pedro. And here's the kicker. I recorded everything. Got a full confession from the douche."

"You must be very persuasive."

"I have certain skills."

"Where's Pedro now?"

"Probably running his sorry ass over the border. I let him go. The shit-bag's not our problem. Bobby's in the clear. I've already alerted Beverly to take care of the details. The case against Bobby will be dismissed."

"That's great."

"You want me to follow up on who hired Pedro?"

"No. You're correct, it doesn't matter. It's done," she said restlessly. "Right now we need to concentrate on Gino's killer. You have to help me with this, Chris. I can't go on not knowing. Somebody has to pay for what they did."

"I understand."

"There must be something to lead us in the right direction."

"I've still got my guy at face recognition working on it. Now that Bobby's in the clear, I can give it my all."

"Thanks, Chris."

"Not to worry. We'll find him. That's a promise."

"And when we do," she said, her eyes black and deadly, "I'll deal with him. Me and nobody else. Do you understand?"

"Only too well."

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE.

As soon as her meeting with Chris was finished, Lucky drove back to the Malibu house, sat down with Bobby, and gave him the news that he would soon be vindicated. She filled him in on everything, including the information that it had all taken place because of the drug kingpin Denver was so intent on locking up.

For a moment Bobby felt numb. Denver was involved. His Denver.

Only she wasn't his Denver anymore, was she?

Because of Denver's stubborn determination to take down Alejandro Diego, a girl had gotten herself murdered. A beautiful girl. The girl in the red dress. Nadia. And he'd been targeted due to Denver's stupid obsession. He was furious.

After listening to everything Lucky had to say, he decided it was time to go home and confront Denver. Not that it was her fault directly, but because of everything that had taken place, he couldn't help blaming her-even though he realized that he was being unreasonable. She couldn't have known to what lengths Alejandro Diego would go.

The sad truth was that something terrible had taken place. A girl had been murdered, and if Denver hadn't been so fixated on bringing down Alejandro, it wouldn't have happened.

He said good-bye to Lennie and Steven. Gino Junior and Leo were loathe to see him go; they hung on to him, demanding to know when he'd be back.

"Soon," he assured them.

At least he'd gotten to spend time with his family. He felt refreshed, invigorated, and ready to have it out with Denver. What would she have to say when he told her the whole sordid story?

I could've died, he thought for the hundredth time. And all she was worried about was if I was thinking of getting laid.

He was still angry that she hadn't trusted him. She'd done nothing to help, and she hadn't even mentioned Gino's demise when she'd flown into Chicago to accuse him.

The more he thought about her actions, the angrier he became. Once again he realized that she was not the girl he'd thought she was.

By the time he reached their house in the Hollywood Hills it was still early. Her car was in the driveway. No time like the present to deal with the situation.

He entered the house, and when he couldn't find her downstairs, he headed upstairs.

The shower was running. Damn it. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with Denver while she was naked. He knew exactly where that would lead, and sex was the furthest thing from his mind.

Or was it?

Maybe sex would solve their problems. Perhaps a roll around their king-sized bed would make all the bad things go away. He could certainly do with some loving.

No! A voice screamed in his head. You gotta get things straight first.

Making his way back downstairs, he went into the kitchen and put on coffee.

Then he sat at the kitchen table and waited.

Ross was a diversion that Max felt she deserved. Nothing serious. No falling in love, simply a lighthearted distraction from thinking about Billy, the man who'd led her on once again.

What was Billy Melina's romantic crap all about? A tour of Rome at night. Throwing a coin in the fountain and making a wish. Long, lingering looks.

I'll call you tomorrow, Green Eyes.

Sure. And I can sell you a condo in Alaska!

She wasn't mad at him for not calling or texting. She was mad at herself for believing he would.

How naive. If Athena had taught her one thing, it was not to believe a word any man said. They're all liars, Athena had assured her. The trick is to out-lie them.

Or have fun with someone else, Max thought. And that's exactly what she was doing, until Dante turned up on the yacht and ruined everything.

Dante arrived on the second day of shooting the campaign. He immediately attempted to take control, ordering a change of outfits, demanding new locations, claiming he didn't like her hair and that the photos weren't sexy enough.

Carlo argued that the photos were supposed to picture the Dolcezza girl as young and fresh. Dante retaliated by saying that she looked too innocent. They fought bitterly. Eventually Carlo got on the phone and summoned Natalia-who arrived hours later with six pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage and a superior smirk.

Shooting stopped for the day, and Max seized the opportunity to take off with Ross. He got one of the stewards to fill in for him, then they ran from the yacht without anyone seeing them go. She was determined to push Billy out of her mind for once, and Ross was just the man to help out. He was a true Australian hunk with hard abs and a great body. She was definitely into his arresting accent and his stubbled chin. What was not to like? He was a Chris Hemsworth clone.

"You wanna hit the beach?" he suggested. "Get a beer, chill out. You've been workin' hard. Couldn't stop eyeballin' you."

"Really?" she said, flattered.

"Yeah, really."

"So the beach it is," she said, taking a deep breath.

They headed for a nearby beach, where Ross suggested that they rent a pedal boat and take it out to sea.

"I'm not a great swimmer," she murmured.

"No worries," Ross said, grinning. "Promise I'll save you."

"Promise?" she said, feeling the excitement that something was about to happen.

The sea was calm, and Ross was doing all the pedaling, taking them a good distance from the shore.

After a while he stopped pedaling and they rocked gently on the surface of the sea.

"You do know you're a beaut," Ross said, leaning in for a kiss.