before dying of a massive heart attack. Only then had Henry taken the boat back to the landing dock. He wasn’t sorry, not at all. It was his father’s own fault—he’d caused the fatal heart attack himself by shouting at him.
Logan Whitfield-Simmons’s funeral was a heavily attended and somber affair. The Whitfield-Simmonses were a well-known and respected family in Pasadena. In fact, they were a well-known family across America. Logan Whitfield-Simmons was always at the top of Forbes magazine’s richest people in America list, while Penelope Whitfield-Simmons was lauded on the society pages for her extensive charity work, elegant clothes, and Fortune 400 friends. Great things were expected of Henry, their only son and heir. He fully intended to disappoint.
After his father’s funeral Henry felt a certain freedom. Without asking anyone’s permission, he borrowed his mother’s credit card, went out and purchased an extremely expensive sports car. Two days later he smashed the car up in a head-on collision. Unfortunately for Henry, he emerged from the accident with a broken pelvis and hip, and since his hip never set properly, he was stuck with a permanent limp, putting paid to his dreams of becoming a famous actor.
After his accident Henry rarely left the house. Mostly he stayed in his room watching movies or hunched over his computer.
Penelope was not concerned that her son stayed at home and did nothing; having him around was company for her. “My son, the computer nerd,” she would sigh to her friends. “Henry knows more about computers than anyone. He’s threatened to teach me one day, although who has the time to understand all that newfangled technology?”
Henry lived a whole other life on the Internet. There were girls to visit, places to go he’d never gone before, naked girls he didn’t have to talk to, because Henry had never been good with the opposite sex. Henry Whitfield-Simmons was still a virgin. As far back as he could remember, his mother had always warned him that girls would chase after him because of the family’s wealth and position, and that he should always resist their advances. He’d taken note of her wise words, and never had a girlfriend.
One day while surfing the Internet, he’d come upon a site that featured young teenage girls. Somehow he’d managedto enter their private domain, a Web site where they exchanged personal messages and wrote vividly about their thoughts and dreams. Most of their thoughts and dreams concerned boys, which Henry found boring. But he liked looking at the photos the girls posted of themselves. They were pouty and pretty; young, innocent girls playing dress-up with long, flowing hair draped seductively over one eye, and come-on expressions.
Henry was soon addicted. Every night he would sit at his computer checking them out. Until one night he realized there was something very familiar about one of the girls, and when he Googled her, he discovered who she was. The girl was Maria Santangelo Golden, Lucky Santangelo’s daughter.
The information astounded and thrilled him.
Chapter 10
Even though Lucky arose at five A.M ., ready to work out with her personal trainer—so L.A. (but if she didn’t have Cole to kick her butt three days a week, she’d never do it)— there were never enough hours in the day to get everything done, especially as she flew to Vegas twice a week. After a vigorous workout she usually made her East Coast phone calls—business and family. Her son Bobby had recently opened a restaurant/club in New York, and Brigette was busy designing her own jewelry line. Neither of them needed to work, as they were both descendants of Greek billionaire Dimitri Stanislopolous, Lucky’s second husband, and had both inherited huge fortunes, although Bobby would not inherit the bulk of his until he hit twenty-five.
Lucky was happy about that. Bobby was smart and extremely good-looking—the burden of such a fortune was bound to influence
Logan Whitfield-Simmons’s funeral was a heavily attended and somber affair. The Whitfield-Simmonses were a well-known and respected family in Pasadena. In fact, they were a well-known family across America. Logan Whitfield-Simmons was always at the top of Forbes magazine’s richest people in America list, while Penelope Whitfield-Simmons was lauded on the society pages for her extensive charity work, elegant clothes, and Fortune 400 friends. Great things were expected of Henry, their only son and heir. He fully intended to disappoint.
After his father’s funeral Henry felt a certain freedom. Without asking anyone’s permission, he borrowed his mother’s credit card, went out and purchased an extremely expensive sports car. Two days later he smashed the car up in a head-on collision. Unfortunately for Henry, he emerged from the accident with a broken pelvis and hip, and since his hip never set properly, he was stuck with a permanent limp, putting paid to his dreams of becoming a famous actor.
After his accident Henry rarely left the house. Mostly he stayed in his room watching movies or hunched over his computer.
Penelope was not concerned that her son stayed at home and did nothing; having him around was company for her. “My son, the computer nerd,” she would sigh to her friends. “Henry knows more about computers than anyone. He’s threatened to teach me one day, although who has the time to understand all that newfangled technology?”
Henry lived a whole other life on the Internet. There were girls to visit, places to go he’d never gone before, naked girls he didn’t have to talk to, because Henry had never been good with the opposite sex. Henry Whitfield-Simmons was still a virgin. As far back as he could remember, his mother had always warned him that girls would chase after him because of the family’s wealth and position, and that he should always resist their advances. He’d taken note of her wise words, and never had a girlfriend.
One day while surfing the Internet, he’d come upon a site that featured young teenage girls. Somehow he’d managedto enter their private domain, a Web site where they exchanged personal messages and wrote vividly about their thoughts and dreams. Most of their thoughts and dreams concerned boys, which Henry found boring. But he liked looking at the photos the girls posted of themselves. They were pouty and pretty; young, innocent girls playing dress-up with long, flowing hair draped seductively over one eye, and come-on expressions.
Henry was soon addicted. Every night he would sit at his computer checking them out. Until one night he realized there was something very familiar about one of the girls, and when he Googled her, he discovered who she was. The girl was Maria Santangelo Golden, Lucky Santangelo’s daughter.
The information astounded and thrilled him.
Chapter 10
Even though Lucky arose at five A.M ., ready to work out with her personal trainer—so L.A. (but if she didn’t have Cole to kick her butt three days a week, she’d never do it)— there were never enough hours in the day to get everything done, especially as she flew to Vegas twice a week. After a vigorous workout she usually made her East Coast phone calls—business and family. Her son Bobby had recently opened a restaurant/club in New York, and Brigette was busy designing her own jewelry line. Neither of them needed to work, as they were both descendants of Greek billionaire Dimitri Stanislopolous, Lucky’s second husband, and had both inherited huge fortunes, although Bobby would not inherit the bulk of his until he hit twenty-five.
Lucky was happy about that. Bobby was smart and extremely good-looking—the burden of such a fortune was bound to influence
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