Wicked Wives. Anna-Lou Weatherley

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ young, beautiful and rich. And sometimes it had even worked; at least until either Jack lost interest or Tom gambled away the profits, both of which had been the case on more than one occasion. Now, however, it was time to get serious. This latest acquisition was to be their defining moment, a transitional leap from small fry to legitimate players, and having exhausted New York, Vegas and LA, from a business perspective at least, it was time to cast the net a little wider.

      ‘Jeez man, I thought you’d be pleased,’ Jack had responded to the lukewarm reception Tom had given him upon informing him about the ‘near-as-damnit perfect’ venue he’d found for them in the heart of London’s West End. With a dense population of young, affluent, and fashion-conscious prospective clientele, it seemed like an appealing prospect, especially for the particular concept they had in mind – a hybrid mix of a lavish premier super club and casino, combined with fine dining and themed table dancing. ‘London is the epicentre of cool right now, man. It’s hot to trot.’ Jack had insisted.

      Tom had reluctantly acquiesced. London was his birthplace but it had long ago ceased to be his home. Besides, the city held bittersweet memories for him and he had made a promise never to return again. But then, Tom had never been much good at keeping promises …

      Now all that was standing in the way of their dream was the auction for the rundown but ultimately perfect old warehouse in Soho; that, and the small matter of six million dollars, three of which were sitting in a Louis Vuitton case in the back seat of the Lamborghini.

      ‘No stress, bud,’ Tom smiled. ‘I got everything in hand on that front.’

      There was a pause on the line as Jack digested this information, his chest wheezing like an old boiler on its last knockings. If this deal came off they’d make their money back ten-fold within twelve months. But they were still a little shy of three mill of the recommended auction price, which was where Tom came into the equation. Jack was relying on him to make up the shortfall, which was a little like relying on a politician to come good on his promises; hit and miss.

      ‘You’re telling me you already got your hand on three big ones? And you didn’t care to mention that small fact to me this morning?’

      The girl’s ears pricked up. Three million bucks! Jeez!

      ‘Just trust me, OK?’ Tom winked at his passenger and she grinned in return, uncrossing her long, slim legs in a consciously provocative move.

      ‘Yeah right! Look what happened the last time I did that?’

      Jack Goldstein was the closest thing Tom Black had left to family. They had been friends since his early Vegas days, bonding instantly by their shared interests of making money and chasing pussy. Ultimately though, ups and downs aside, theirs was a friendship that had been built on the essential elements of trust and respect, and as a result, it had stood the test of time.

      ‘Well then, just chill out. We’ll go to the auction; we’ll get our casino. We’ll make our millions. Simple.’

      Jack sighed. Tom was being evasive.

      ‘I’m serious, Tom,’ he said earnestly, between short, violent bursts of deep chesty coughs that made him sound like a sea-lion attempting to mate. ‘I don’t plan to return back to the States without that venue.’

      ‘Jesus Jack, stop breaking my balls will you?’ Tom suddenly snapped, causing the girl to look over at him. ‘I’m pulling up outside the bank right now … and we’re gonna get our casino, OK?’

      Jack was unfazed by his friend’s sharp outburst. He’d heard it all a million times over.

      ‘We’ve got a couple of weeks’ grace to get our shit sorted then it’s all systems go,’ he said, pausing to sneeze three times in succession.

      ‘Jeez bud, you need to get yourself to a doctor.’

      ‘Get that bread banked and I won’t need to,’ he snapped back, although he knew he was right; Jack couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this goddamn awful and it was worrying him. But he hated quacks. Quacks were wack as far as he was concerned – messengers of doom. His late grandfather had been the same. First doctor he ever saw in almost seven decades told him he had less than six weeks left. Jeez. You were better off not knowing that kind of shit. ‘And don’t let me down, Tom,’ he added seriously, ‘I’m counting on you. Three million and counting …’ Jack said flatly, blowing his nose loudly before hanging up.

      Turning his attentions briefly back to his passenger, momentarily distracted by her perfect form and abundant peroxide hair that couldn’t possibly be all her own, Tom’s mind began to click into overdrive as his forced smile faded faster than a fake clairvoyant’s apparition. Truth was, Jack had every reason to worry. There was no cash; Tom owned the princely sum of nothing. Somehow, he needed to find a shortfall of at least three million bucks in less than seven days if he wasn’t about to renege on his word and lose face.

      A thought bubble appeared above Tom’s head and he grinned at his passenger again. He was under no illusion that to make that kind of money in such a short period of time he would need a spectacular show of luck …

      ‘You doing much this weekend …?’ he made to address the blonde, realising he didn’t even know her name.

      ‘… Candy,’ she prompted, returning his grin with a broad smile of her own, showcasing her ice-white veneers, de rigueur in Beverly Hills.

      ‘Of course,’ he gave a knowing nod. What else would she be called?

      ‘And yeah, I was kinda planning to hook up with some girlfriends, you know, hit the bars, a few jello shots …’ she’d added, not wanting to make it sound as if she was too available.

      ‘Well, Candy,’ Tom said, turning to her earnestly and fixing her with an intent gaze that immediately held her intrigue, ‘cancel your plans.’ He had a sixth sense about this one; she had fortune on her side, he was convinced of it.

      ‘And why would I wanna do that?’ She cocked her head to one side, her fake eyelashes sweeping her cheeks as she blinked rapidly at him.

      ‘Because we’re going to Vegas, baby!’ he announced with a little whistle, the tyres of the Lamborghini screaming in objection as he accelerated around a corner.

      After all, what did he have to lose?

      CHAPTER 5

      Ellie was finding it difficult to concentrate as her driver, Wesley, weaved through the Notting Hill traffic in her carbon-black Aston Martin V12 Vantage. She couldn’t get the earlier conversation she’d had with her wayward daughter out of her head.

      ‘Jesus, Mum, chill out already. I’m not a child anymore. I’m eighteen!’ Tess Scott had stood before Ellie with a defiant hand on her skinny jean-clad hip, rolling her eyes at her mother in over-exaggerated exasperation. ‘I’m pretty sure Allegra’s mum isn’t giving her the whole “make sure you use a condom” routine and banging on about ecstasy pills! It’s all so … embarrassing.’

      ‘Maybe that’s because Allegra’s mother doesn’t give a toss, Tess,’ Ellie had sharply replied. ‘I happen to care about what my daughter gets up to. I’ve been to Ibiza, remember …’

      Tess rolled her eyes. СКАЧАТЬ