Lucky Read Free Page A

following her. Not that they had parted friends.
    After Vegas he planned to move on to Los Angeles.
    Not just to see Eden.
    Yeah. To see Eden.
    Admit it, schmuck, you’re still hooked .
    *   *   *
     
    Lucky entered the pool area, and paused for a moment until she caught the eye of Bertil, the Swedish head honcho of all pool activity. He spotted her immediately. She was impossible to miss in a one-piece black swimsuit covering a supple tanned body with the longest legs in town. He jumped to attention, remembering she was the boss, and hurried toward her, greeting her with just the right amount of deference and enthusiasm. ‘Welcome back, Miz Santangelo.’
    She nodded briefly, scanning the mass of bronzed bodies. ‘Thank you, Bertil. Any problems while I was away?’
    ‘Nothing to bother you with.’
    ‘Bother me,’ she said softly. ‘I like to know everything.’
    He hesitated, then launched into a short story about two lifeguards who had been hitting on female guests.
    ‘Did you fire them?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, but they’re planning to sue.’
    ‘Have you talked to our lawyers?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then it’s all taken care of,’ she said, satisfied.
    He escorted her to a poolside lounger, and she settled back to observe the action.
    ‘Bring me a phone,’ she requested.
    He did as she asked, then left her alone.
    She tried Gino for the third time. He was still out. Where the hell was he? Why wasn’t he awaiting her arrival?

Chapter Two
     
    ‘Olympia. You are a Princess. A Goddess. A Queen.’
    Olympia Stanislopoulos’ golden rounded body quivered with delight. ‘More Jeremy, tell me more.’
    The English Lord shifted position on top of the Greek shipping heiress’s nubile naked body and continued his litany of praise. ‘Your eyes are the Mediterranean. Your lips ruby jewels. Your skin the smoothest velvet. Your . . .’
    ‘Ahhhhhhh . . .’ Her loud cry of ecstasy silenced him. She spread her legs wide, then brought them tightly together, scissoring him in a painful embrace. While doing this her long talon-like nails scratched a lethal trail across his back, drawing blood.
    His yell of pain joined her shout of ecstasy. ‘For God’s sake, Olympia!’
    She was uninterested in his complaints. Casually she pushed him from her.
    ‘I haven’t come,’ he complained.
    ‘Too bad,’ she retorted sharply, and rolled off the bed.
    Olympia Stanislopoulos had never been known for her warm and compassionate nature. She bounced quickly into the bathroom, slammed the door and confronted her reflection in a full-length mirror.
    Fat! Rolls of unwanted cellulite-dimpled fat! Angrily she grabbed a fold of flesh around her waist and squealed with fury. God damn that phoney French doctor who had given her three months of treatment, a few lousy fucks, and charged her thirty thousand dollars. He’d certainly seen her coming – in more ways than one. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection, hating what she saw.
    What she saw was a twenty-eight-year-old, five-foot-three, very curvacious woman, with great bouncy breasts, an abundance of thick blonde curls, and a pretty face. Her eyes were small and blue. Her nose nondescript. Her lips pouting rosebuds. Men loved her. She looked very sexy. A regular sex bomb. Only a sex bomb with a difference.
    On her twenty-first birthday Olympia Stanislopoulos had inherited seventy million dollars. Wisely invested the millions had made her now worth more than twice that.
    She had been married three times. First, at seventeen, to a fledgling Greek playboy of twenty whose family had lineage but little money. They were married aboard her father, Dimitri’s, yacht, conveniently moored beside his private island. The occasion had been more than festive; two princes, a scattering of princesses, a deposed king, and most of Europe’s idle jet set. The happy couple honeymooned in India, lived for three months in Athens, and divorced in Paris when Olympia discovered her new husband on