"I'm sure you are."

After an awkward pause, Billy said, "How about Max. What's up with her?"

"She's living in Europe."

"No shit?" Billy said, attempting to keep it casual. "I'm leaving tomorrow to make a movie. Where is she?"

"London."

"Hey, if I get to London, I'll give her a call."

"I don't think so," Denver said shortly.

"Really?"

"Truth is, Billy, I hardly imagine she needs any more heartbreak."

"Excuse me?" he said, blue eyes blazing. Who the heck did this woman think she was talking to? He was Billy Melina, a goddamn movie star, for crissake. Shouldn't she be showing him a little respect?

"You broke her heart," Denver continued, keeping her voice low. "End of story."

Bobby would be so pleased with her when she gave him a blow-by-blow of their conversation.

"You don't understand. It was complicated-" Billy started to say, only to be interrupted by Annabelle standing in the middle of the room, clinking a glass to get all her guests' attention.

"Hi, everyone," Annabelle trilled. "Eddie and I are so happy you could be with us on this very special night. Eddie," she added coyly, beckoning her husband, "come join me."

Eddie bounced his way over to his wife and stood proudly beside her. He was short and stocky with a clever comb-over and an engaging grin. "I know you all wanna hear about what a hit movie Cartel is gonna be," he said. "Box-office gold, folks. You heard it here first. But tonight is not about our movie, tonight is all about my gorgeous, sexy wife."

He turned to Annabelle and they linked arms. Then, as if they'd both rehearsed it, they yelled out the good news in unison.

"We're pregnant!"

CHAPTER TEN.

The partying never stopped for Alejandro Diego. Much as Rafael begged him to keep a low profile, Alejandro couldn't care less. Club Luna was his playpen and women were his toys. His womanizing was out of control; his drinking and drugging too.

Everyone knew that Alejandro was a coke whore, sampling the product and sharing it with his dubious group of hangers-on. Rafael realized that any one of them could be working undercover, all the better to trap Alejandro. It was bad enough that Frankie Romano had gotten himself arrested, although that didn't stop Alejandro from doing whatever he felt like.

Rafael was disgusted with Alejandro's carelessness, so much so that he was tempted to call Pablo and beg permission to knock Alejandro out, stash him on a plane, and fly him home. As far as Rafael was concerned, it was the only sane way to deal with the situation.

Unfortunately, he knew that Pablo would never agree to such drastic action, because Pablo had no idea how serious the situation was. If Pablo was aware of how inept his son was, he'd surely send for him immediately. And if that happened, somehow or other Pablo would manage to blame Rafael. It was a given.

Once again, Rafael found himself in a no-win position.

Damn Alejandro. His stupidity knew no bounds.

Tonight Alejandro was planning on entertaining, and when Alejandro entertained at home it was always a fuck-fest of girls, drugs, music, and booze.

"You have to be careful," Rafael warned. "You're being watched."

"Not by you," Alejandro cackled. "Tonight I am free of your disapproval."

They were standing in the men's department at Neiman Marcus, where Alejandro was busy purchasing two Brioni suits and a brown leather studded Versace jacket.

"Gangster, huh?" he boasted, parading up and down, before stopping to admire himself in a full-length mirror.

"Not so much," Rafael muttered, willing Alejandro to dial it down a notch. People were staring at him, which is exactly the way Alejandro liked it. In his mind, they were thinking how handsome he was, how rich and privileged.

He winked at a pretty girl in a skimpy orange dress, her bare arms tanned by the sun.

She caught sight of his wink and scurried away.

Alejandro didn't appreciate her response. He supposed she was a lesbian, the only reason a girl would turn away from him. Besides, he was not a big fan of natural. He preferred huge fake breasts and an allover fake tan.

"Time for a cocktail," Alejandro said, gesturing toward the upstairs bar.

"Not for me," Rafael said, tired of being the watchdog to his idiot half brother. Yes, Pablo could deny it all he wanted, but Rafael had no doubt that they were brothers.

"How come you're such a tight-ass?" Alejandro mocked. "You act as if you're an old man."

"Not old, merely smart," Rafael replied.

"Smarter than me?" Alejandro sneered. "There is nobody smarter than me."

Then, throwing his charge card at the startled salesman, he strutted toward the circular bar.

Rafael followed. As usual, he had no choice.

The music was deafening, the girls plentiful. A few celebrities were scattered here and there, mostly young actors looking to get their rocks off. Alejandro got off on collecting celebrities; they were so easy to please as long as the drugs were plentiful. Naturally, Alejandro made sure that they were. Coke, pills, heroin-if anyone was so inclined. He played on their vices, and had one of his many so-called girlfriends take surreptitious pictures, always useful to lock away for future use.

Tonight he was cozying up to Willow Price, a young actress who covered the waterfront with her sexual activities. This suited Alejandro, for threesomes were his thing.

Willow had never been what one would describe as a girl's girl. She'd always operated in a world filled with men, most of whom wanted to sleep with her or have her suck them off. Willow exuded a girlish sensuality-she was the extremely pretty girl next door who was ready to do anything that was required to forward her career. She was also famous for her record amount of stays in rehab, several DUIs, and her outrageous public behavior. She was into Alejandro because he paid her bills and bailed her out of jail when she needed him to. In return, she indulged his threesome fantasies, and occasionally invited him to accompany her to a premiere or a fancy Hollywood party.

Alejandro got a big kick out of seeing his photo in the magazines alongside Willow, especially when they described him as an affluent businessman. It upped his profile, made him more appealing to women.

Tonight Willow was in a ready-to-party mood. She'd recently split with her latest agent and gotten her third DUI, and since her last movie, in which she'd starred alongside Billy Melina, nothing worthwhile had come her way. It infuriated her that younger actresses were now getting the roles that should be hers. Jennifer Lawrence, Rooney Mara, Kristin Stewart. Fuck 'em. She was more talented than the three of them put together.

Willow had a plan; she always had a plan. She'd discussed it with her friend and sometime lover Frankie Romano before he'd gotten his dumb ass arrested. Frankie had considered it a fine idea. Her plan was to get Alejandro to put up the money for a movie she could star in. After all, he was always boasting about how much money he had, so how about sliding some of it her way?

Falling out of a slinky dress, sans underwear, she decided to get to work on Alejandro, and with that in mind, she'd hired a porno player to help her out. The porno girl was tanned and big-breasted-the best that silicone had to offer. Her professional name was Bee Bee, and Willow knew from past experience that Bee Bee took direction well.

Alejandro had no clue that Bee Bee was getting paid to do anything he so desired. In his mind she was a female, he was a male, and his masculine lure was impossible to resist.

Willow had decided that Bee Bee should do all the heavy lifting. Willow didn't mind sucking Alejandro's cock once in a while, but lately he was into butt-fucking, and that was not her idea of a fun time. He was also into sitting astride her, straddling her tits, and stuffing his member into her mouth while almost suffocating her with his weight.

There were plenty of girls at the party-skanky would-be model/actresses ready to entertain Alejandro in any way he saw fit. Willow's advantage was that none of them had a name like she did. She was a famous, out-of-control bad girl, and Alejandro was a fame whore.

Guns, coke, and endless women-Alejandro was into it all. He kept a Glock in a drawer next to his bed, and an Uzi in his walk-in closet. Oh yes, he was prepared for anything. One night he'd revealed to Willow that his idol was Al Pacino. He'd raved over the way the actor had portrayed drug dealer Tony Montana in Scarface. Alejandro considered himself a Pacino/Montana clone, minus the death scene at the end of the movie.

After a while, Willow maneuvered Alejandro, herself, and Bee Bee into the master bedroom-a room dominated by an enormous bed and white leather furniture with heavy gold accents. Loud rap music emanated from several speakers.

Alejandro was coked out of his mind, simultaneously roaring with laughter and screaming that he was the man.

"You sure are, baby," Willow assured him, exposing her breasts and shaking them in his face.

He grabbed her, squeezing her breasts while bending his head to suck greedily on her nipples.

She knew she had great tits, and they were all real too. "We should make a movie," she whispered in his ear, planting the seed.

"Where's the camera?" he demanded. "I wanna see a close-up of your pussy."

"No," she said, breaking away from him. "I'm talking about a legitimate movie, starring me."

"An' me," said Bee Bee, joining in when she wasn't supposed to.

"Get undressed," Willow hissed at her. "And while you're at it, shut your mouth. I'm paying you to fuck, not talk."

"A movie, huh?" mumbled Alejandro, warming to the idea.

"Independent," Willow said, "so we don't have to answer to any studio assholes."

Alejandro chuckled.

"We'll do it my way," Willow continued.

"Doncha mean our way?" Alejandro said, watching Bee Bee strip.

Hmm, Willow decided. He's not as out of it as I thought.

"Yeah, baby, our way," she agreed. "You can be the exec producer. You'll have your name up there on the big screen for everyone to see. How about that?"

"I like it," Alejandro said, beckoning Bee Bee to move closer, then tipping a vial of coke onto her big tits and snorting the white powder off her naked skin.

"So," Willow said, cradling his balls the way she knew he liked. "Do we have something? Should I get a deal memo drawn up?" She squeezed his balls hard. "Are we in business?"

He groaned and let out an anguished, "Yeah, let's do it."

Bee Bee leaned over him, smothering his face with her huge breasts. She was a true professional.

Alejandro felt himself coming.

Too soon.

What the fuck. The night was young, and he was just getting started.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The plane ride to L.A. was quick and uneventful. Upon arrival, Lucky bid good-bye to Danny at the airport, picked up her Ferrari, and headed straight to Malibu. Using drivers did not appeal to her. Being behind the wheel of a kick-ass car had always been her thing. Besides, she preferred being in control.

Stopping at Malibu Market, she picked up steaks for Lennie to barbecue, a jar of Texas grilling sauce, and a bottle of tequila. Tonight was to be their night. She'd given the housekeepers a couple of days off, so it would be just her and Lennie. The two of them alone at last.

Thinking about Lennie always brought a smile to her face. He was everything she could ever want in a man. Sexy, wry, charismatic, talented, great in bed, no way a yes-man. In fact, Lennie was the only man who'd ever stood up to her. He was strong and opinionated and they sometimes enjoyed fierce fights. However, the making up was always worth it.

Her thoughts moved on to Venus, and how her friend was possibly ruining her life, not to mention her career. Venus had a habit of becoming the woman she imagined the man she was with expected her to be. During the time she was married to movie star Cooper Turner, she'd glammed it up all the way. Then, while she was married to Billy Melina-who was younger than her-she'd turned into the rock chick of his dreams, riding on the back of his Harley, playing Ping-Pong, going bowling with his rowdy group of friends, even camping because Billy was into it. After her divorce from Billy, she'd sampled a few boy toys, finally settling for Brazilian Jorge. With Jorge, Venus had paid all the bills, while Jorge had lived the life. Then along came Hugo Santos, and Venus had fallen prey to his bullshit I-can-make-you-into-a-dramatic-actress spell.

The only consolation was that it wouldn't last. Venus's relationships never did.

Lucky sighed. Venus had to be careful; fans had a way of moving on.

By the time she pulled into the driveway, Lennie was already home.

"Here comes my beautiful wife," he said, greeting her at the door.

"Hey," she responded. "And I bring food too."

"I always knew you were perfect."

"Did you, now?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I always did."

They entered their Malibu retreat, arms entwined.

Five minutes later, their lovemaking was fast and furious. No foreplay, no tender kisses, simply a raw urgency that took them both by surprise.

Lucky fell into it with a fervent passion. Nothing with Lennie was ever predictable, which is why they had such a great and exciting marriage.

"You leave me breathless," she sighed when they were both fully satisfied. "Breathless and extraordinarily happy."

Lennie grinned. He still had an irresistible grin, and an irresistible everything else.