sense the heat of her desire. She stepped back and treated him just like any other employee.
‘I want the Mirage renovated,’ she told Costa. ‘It looks tacky. ’
Marco was furious. ‘What’s going on here?’ he screamed at Costa over the phone when the decorators descended. ‘Get Lucky off my back. She’s disrupting everything. ’
‘I can’t,’ Costa replied simply. ‘She’s the major shareholder. She can do what she wants. ’
Wild with fury, Marco noticed her all right. By the time he noticed her enough to want her, she was businesslike and remote. She had no intention of sharing him with his wife.
Their relationship simmered. Lucky was in and out of Las Vegas watching the work on the Magiriano. There were problems – then more problems. Nothing she couldn’t deal with.
Marco was always around to greet her.
‘Still married?’ she would ask lightly, although her stomach churned with the anticipation that he might have gotten a divorce.
‘Sure am. And you? Still screwing around? ’
‘Give me a better hobby and I’ll try it,’ she drawled jokingly. She knew her casual sex life pissed him off.
One night, when his wife was out of town, he finally made a move. They had dined together, discussed old times, and when she was at the door of her suite, he said, ‘I’ll come in. ’
He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. She desired him more than she had desired anyone in her life. Sweetly, she said, ‘Good night, Marco. Sleep warm,’ and closed the door before she could weaken.
When she had him she wanted it to be for keeps. That’s the way it had to be.
As time passed, Lucky worked hard and played hard. She was a resolute businesswoman, demanding and getting the best from the people she employed. She flew back and forth to Las Vegas constantly, noting that Marco remained firmly married. She still wanted him, but it had to be on her terms .
Very rarely she thought of Gino, whose empire she was taking over. She was building his hotel, realizing his dream – yet they had not spoken or been in touch at all. And that’s the way she liked it. It would suit her if he never returned to America .
In 1975 the Magiriano was finally completed. Opening night and Lucky glowing in a black Halston dress, Marco resplendent in black tie – the electricity charging between them like firecrackers. The time was right. Somehow the fact that he still had a wife didn’t seem to matter anymore .
Lucky got through the evening in a heightened state of sexual anticipation. Marco felt the same way .
Later, they came together in exultant ecstasy. A wild ritual of incredible sex, followed by the release of being with each other at last. It was a joining of soulmates. A fusion of energies .
Plans were made. He would tell his wife immediately, and arrange a quick divorce. There would be no more separations. Now that it had happened it would be forever .
When he left her bed in the morning, Lucky knew she had finally found what she had been searching for. A man she could look up to, live with, and love. Marco was everything and more. Marco was her world .
At 2.30 p.m. that day, as Lucky sat with Costa in the Patio Restaurant waiting for Marco to join her for lunch, she noticed Boogie – her bodyguard – heading swiftly across the room towards her .
As he approached she felt a chill of apprehension .
‘There’s been a shooting,’ he said .
She knew it was Marco .
She knew it was her future .
She closed her eyes to pray, but with a feeling of foreboding she knew it was too late .
* * *
The Bahia lounge was crowded, but a table was made immediately available for the Santangelo party.
Lucky found herself seated beside Dimitri Stanislopoulos. ‘How’s Olympia?’ she asked. Not that she cared, over the years Olympia had never once tried to get in touch with her. They had not spoken since that fateful night in France thirteen years before. Sometimes Lucky read about her in
‘I want the Mirage renovated,’ she told Costa. ‘It looks tacky. ’
Marco was furious. ‘What’s going on here?’ he screamed at Costa over the phone when the decorators descended. ‘Get Lucky off my back. She’s disrupting everything. ’
‘I can’t,’ Costa replied simply. ‘She’s the major shareholder. She can do what she wants. ’
Wild with fury, Marco noticed her all right. By the time he noticed her enough to want her, she was businesslike and remote. She had no intention of sharing him with his wife.
Their relationship simmered. Lucky was in and out of Las Vegas watching the work on the Magiriano. There were problems – then more problems. Nothing she couldn’t deal with.
Marco was always around to greet her.
‘Still married?’ she would ask lightly, although her stomach churned with the anticipation that he might have gotten a divorce.
‘Sure am. And you? Still screwing around? ’
‘Give me a better hobby and I’ll try it,’ she drawled jokingly. She knew her casual sex life pissed him off.
One night, when his wife was out of town, he finally made a move. They had dined together, discussed old times, and when she was at the door of her suite, he said, ‘I’ll come in. ’
He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. She desired him more than she had desired anyone in her life. Sweetly, she said, ‘Good night, Marco. Sleep warm,’ and closed the door before she could weaken.
When she had him she wanted it to be for keeps. That’s the way it had to be.
As time passed, Lucky worked hard and played hard. She was a resolute businesswoman, demanding and getting the best from the people she employed. She flew back and forth to Las Vegas constantly, noting that Marco remained firmly married. She still wanted him, but it had to be on her terms .
Very rarely she thought of Gino, whose empire she was taking over. She was building his hotel, realizing his dream – yet they had not spoken or been in touch at all. And that’s the way she liked it. It would suit her if he never returned to America .
In 1975 the Magiriano was finally completed. Opening night and Lucky glowing in a black Halston dress, Marco resplendent in black tie – the electricity charging between them like firecrackers. The time was right. Somehow the fact that he still had a wife didn’t seem to matter anymore .
Lucky got through the evening in a heightened state of sexual anticipation. Marco felt the same way .
Later, they came together in exultant ecstasy. A wild ritual of incredible sex, followed by the release of being with each other at last. It was a joining of soulmates. A fusion of energies .
Plans were made. He would tell his wife immediately, and arrange a quick divorce. There would be no more separations. Now that it had happened it would be forever .
When he left her bed in the morning, Lucky knew she had finally found what she had been searching for. A man she could look up to, live with, and love. Marco was everything and more. Marco was her world .
At 2.30 p.m. that day, as Lucky sat with Costa in the Patio Restaurant waiting for Marco to join her for lunch, she noticed Boogie – her bodyguard – heading swiftly across the room towards her .
As he approached she felt a chill of apprehension .
‘There’s been a shooting,’ he said .
She knew it was Marco .
She knew it was her future .
She closed her eyes to pray, but with a feeling of foreboding she knew it was too late .
* * *
The Bahia lounge was crowded, but a table was made immediately available for the Santangelo party.
Lucky found herself seated beside Dimitri Stanislopoulos. ‘How’s Olympia?’ she asked. Not that she cared, over the years Olympia had never once tried to get in touch with her. They had not spoken since that fateful night in France thirteen years before. Sometimes Lucky read about her in
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