Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge
Jackie Collins
Jackie Collins
Vendetta
Lucky’s Revenge
For my Italian hero,
Ti amo,
Jake
Contents
Los Angeles
1987
Prologue
DONNA LANDSMAN’S ICY SLATE EYES DARTED around the expensive mahogany…
Book One
1
LUCKY SANTANGELO GOLDEN STEERED HER RED Ferrari through the ornate…
2
ALEX WOODS HAD A SMILE LIKE A CROCODILE—wide, captivating, and…
3
“HOW OLD ARE YOU, SWEETIE?” THE FIFTY-FIVE-year-old lech in the…
4
VENUS MARIA WAS IN SPECTACULAR SHAPE. SHE worked at it…
5
DONNA LANDSMAN, FORMERLY DONATELLA Bonnatti, resided in a fake Spanish…
6
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE AN HOUR FREE BEFORE my…
7
“WHAT’S YOUR MOTHER LIKE?” TIN LEE ASKED.
8
“HI, GORGEOUS,” COOPER TURNER SAID, ENTERING Venus Maria’s all-white, luxurious…
9
“LET’S STOP FOR A DRINK,” ALEX SUGGESTED, HIS nerves already…
10
“HOW COME YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN TO SEE ME?”
11
NONA’S BOSS, AURORA MONDO CARPENTER, WAS a tiny, brittle woman…
12
LUCKY SLEPT MOST OF THE LONG FLIGHT TO Europe, not…
13
VENUS DIDN’T HAVE A HOT DATE WAITING AT HER house…
14
LUCKY SAT VERY STILL, GAZING STRAIGHT AHEAD. She knew she…
Book Two
Two Months Later
15
“HI,” LUCKY SAID. SHE WAS SEATED BEHIND HER massive desk…
16
VENUS HAD A LOT ON HER MIND. SINCE THROWING Cooper…
17
LUCKY FINISHED OFF MOST OF THE PITCHER OF margaritas before…
18
“YOUR FANS, THEY MUST DRIVE YOU CRAZY,” Rodriguez remarked, lazily…
19
“AW, JESUS!” ALEX GROANED AS HE APPROACHED the bar and…
20
MORTON SHARKEY MET WITH DONNA LANDSMAN in the privacy of…
21
IT WAS PAST TEN WHEN LUCKY AND ALEX DROVE up…
Book Three
22
LYING NEAR THE SOUTHEASTERN CORNER OF Sicily—high above the dusty…
23
IT WAS FIVE-THIRTY IN THE MORNING WHEN Lucky awoke. Her…
24
MORNINGS WERE ALWAYS A BUSY TIME AT Venus’s house. Anthony…
25
LUCKY DID A LOT OF THINKING ON THE DRIVE back…
26
A CHANEL SUIT SEEMED APPROPRIATE. NAVY blue with white braid…
27
“YOU’RE LATE,” MICHEL GUY SAID STERNLY. “BY about eight weeks…
28
SURFACING FROM YET ANOTHER NIGHTMARE, Lennie imagined he heard a…
29
THE ONLY THINGS LUCKY BOTHERED TAKING WERE the silver picture…
30
ABE PANTHER HAD NOT LEFT HIS CRUMBLING old mansion for…
31
ROBERTSON HAD MALEVOLENT VIOLET CAT’S eyes. They followed Brigette wherever…
32
MORTON’S WAS THE INDUSTRY HANGOUT. IT WAS always packed with…
33
“MORE CHAMPAGNE?” MICHEL SUGGESTED.
34
BOOGIE AMBLED INTO HER HOUSE EARLY IN THE morning.
35
BRIGETTE AWOKE IN HER OWN BED IN THE BEDROOM of…
36
PALM SPRINGS WAS A PLEASANT HAVEN. GINO WAS crazy about…
37
EVER SINCE THE NIGHT AT MICHEL’S APARTMENT, Brigette had managed…
38
IT WAS UNBELIEVABLE. GINO HAD BEEN SHOT.
39
AFTER WALKING OUT ON HIS MOTHER, ALEX drove directly to…
40
GINO WAS RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL A WEEK after being…
41
WHEN WAS THIS TORTURE GOING TO END? LENNIE didn’t know…
42
THE FACT THAT MICKEY STOLLI WAS A MAJOR prick was…
43
WHILE KYOKO WAS TAKING CARE OF THE MAIL, Lucky studied…
44
ABIGAILE SET A GOOD TABLE. SHE LOVED ENTERTAINING stars, it…
45
“HI,” SAID LUCKY.
46
BEING THE MAJORITY SHAREHOLDER OF A BIG Hollywood studio was…
47
“HE’S HERE,” BOOGIE SAID.
48
ALEX PICKED A YELLOW ROSE FROM HIS GARDEN and took…
49
SITTING IN ALEX’S PORSCHE ON THE WAY TO THE Chateau…
50
“I’M STONED,” TABITHA SAID AND GIGGLED. “THIS IS, like, real…
51
HER NAME WAS CLAUDIA, AND AS FAR AS LENNIE was…
52
AS THE GUESTS TROOPED INTO THE STOLLIS’ dining room, Mickey…
53
LUCKY LEFT THE TABLE ON THE PRETEXT OF visiting the…
54
THE STOLLIS’ DINNER DRAGGED ON.
55
JOHNNY ROMANO WAS NOT AS PUSHY AS VENUS had thought.
56
LUCKY TOOK BOOGIE WITH HER TO MEET SARA and deliver…
57
“MY PAPA IS BACK,” CLAUDIA SAID, NERVOUSLY clasping her hands…
58
“SO,” BRIGETTE SAID, NERVOUSLY PULLING AT HER hair. “That’s the…
59
THE NEWS OF MORTON SHARKEY’S DEMISE WAS A big shock…
60
DANIELLA DRANK PERNOD AND WATER.
61
“I’M GETTING MY STUDIO BACK TODAY,” LUCKY announced.
62
“IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS—I THOUGHT YOU’D deserted me,” Lennie said…
63
DONNA ARRIVED HOME FROM THE STUDIO seething. She screamed at…
64
LENNIE WAITED IMPATIENTLY, THE HOURS CRAWLING by at an interminably…
65
SATURDAY MORNING WAS ONE OF THOSE BEAUTIFUL days, the kind…
66
“WHY DO YOU KEEP ON BOTHERING ME?” VENUS demanded.
67
DONNA AND GEORGE GOT IN THE ROLLS AND hurriedly drove…
68
THEY’D TAKEN OUT HIS COMPUTER, BUT THEY hadn’t gotten into…
69
DONNA SNORED LOUDLY. SANTO PUT HIS HEAD against her bedroom…
70
LENNIE KEPT MOVING ALL NIGHT, STICKING close to the mountains…
71
SANTO’S MIND WAS A MOVIE. AND HE WAS THE macho…
72
ALEX SLEPT WELL FOR THE FIRST TIME IN months. No…
Los Angeles
1988 One Year Later
Epilogue
THE EXTRAVAGANT PREMIERE OF ALEX WOODS’S Gangsters was a major…
About the Author
Other Books by Jackie Collins
Copyright
About the Publisher
LOS ANGELES
1987
PROLOGUE
DONNA LANDSMAN’S ICY SLATE EYES DARTED around the expensive mahogany conference table, fixing on her three high-powered lawyers and her mild-mannered husband, George. “How much more time before we acquire enough shares to take control of Panther Studios?” she demanded impatiently. “It’s taking too long.”
One of her lawyers spoke up, a florid-faced man with close-together bushy eyebrows and a bulbous nose. “Donna, it’s true, it is taking longer than we anticipated. However, as you
know, I’ve never been in favor of this—”
Donna crushed him with a contemptuous glare. “Do you hear me, Finley?” she interrupted. “Because if you don’t, get out of my sight. Negativity fails to interest me. If I want something, nobody tells me no. And…I…want…Panther.”
Finley nodded, sorry he’d spoken. Donna Landsman never listened to anybody’s advice. She was queen of the hostile takeover, every company she went for made her another fortune. This was one of the reasons Finley couldn’t understand why she was so anxious to wrest control of Panther. It was a studio in trouble, with massive debts and a rocky cash flow—hardly a money-making proposition.
“Yes, Donna,” he said. “We all know what you want, and believe me, we’re working on it.”
“I should hope so,” Donna said, making a mental note to tell George that soon it might be time to replace at least two of their lawyers. Finley would be the first to go.
She stood up, indicating the meeting was over. No point in wasting more time.
George stood up, too. He was an undistinguished-looking man in his fifties with plain features, heavy spectacles, and flat brown hair cut too short. Everyone knew he was the financial brains behind Donna’s empire. She was the flash and he was the cash. They were a formidable combination.
“I’ll see you later,” Donna said to her husband, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
“Yes, dear,” he replied, unfazed by her abrupt attitude.
Donna strode from the conference room to her office—a palatial suite of interconnecting rooms with a breathtaking view of Century City. For a moment she paused in the doorway, taking it all in.
Lawyers—what did they know? Exactly nothing. The only thing they were truly competent at was sending enormous bills. Fortunately she had someone in place who was able to do exactly what she required. Her team of lawyers had no idea how smartly she’d worked this one—even George had no clue.
Donna smiled to herself.
Everyone has a weakness.
Seek and ye shall find.
She’d found.
She entered her private bathroom, pausing before the ornate antique mirror above the sink, peering intently at her reflection.
She saw a woman of forty-three with streaked blond hair pulled back into an elegant chignon. A woman with sculpted features—the pride of her plastic surgeon. A slim woman who wore her Chanel suit and Winston diamonds with flair.
She was attractive in a hard, manufactured, “I am very rich” way. She was attractive because she’d forced herself to become so.
Donna Landsman.
Donatella Bonnatti.
Ah, yes…she’d come a long way from her humble beginnings in a dusty little village nestled on the southeastern corner of Sicily. A long, long way…
And when she brought Lucky Santangelo to her knees, she’d make sure the bitch knew exactly who she was dealing with.
BOOK ONE
1
LUCKY SANTANGELO GOLDEN STEERED HER RED Ferrari through the ornate metal gates of Panther Studios, waved a friendly greeting to the guard, then drove across the lot to her personal parking space located directly outside her well-appointed suite of offices. Lucky was a wildly beautiful woman in her late thirties with a mass of tangled jet curls, deep-olive skin, a full, sensual mouth, black-opal eyes, and a slender, well-toned body.
She’d bought Panther in 1985, and since then she’d been running the studio. After two action-packed years, it was still exciting, for there was nothing she enjoyed more than a challenge, and running a Hollywood studio was the biggest challenge of all. It was more absorbing than building a casino/hotel in Vegas—something she’d done twice, or managing her late second husband’s shipping empire—a task she’d relinquished, handing everything over to a board of trustees.
Lucky loved making movies—reaching out to America—putting images on the screen that would eventually influence people all over the world in a thousand different ways.
It wasn’t easy. The opposition to a woman taking control of a major studio had been formidable. Especially a woman who looked like Lucky. Especially a woman who seemed to have it all together—including three children and a movie-star husband. Everyone knew Hollywood was just one big boys’ club—female members not exactly welcome.
The legendary movie mogul, Abe Panther, had sold her Panther only after she’d proved she was capable of taking over. Abe had challenged her to go in undercover as a secretary and work for Mickey Stolli—his devious grandson-in-law who was running the studio at the time. Abe’s deal was, if she could find out everything Mickey was into, he’d sell her Panther.
She’d found out more than enough to close the deal. It turned out Mickey was skimming big bucks every way he could; his head of production was snorting coke and supplying two-thousand-dollar-a-night call girls to movie stars and VIPs; the head of distribution was smuggling porno flicks overseas along with Panther’s legitimate productions, scoring an under-the-counter bundle; the movies Panther was making were soft-core exploitation crap full of sleazy sex and outrageous violence; producers were getting massive kickbacks; and women around the lot were treated as second-class citizens—it didn’t matter whether they were star actresses or mere secretaries, chauvinism ran rampant.
Lucky offered Abe a great deal of money and salvation for a studio whose reputation was being slowly ruined.
Abe Panther liked her style.
He sold.
Lucky took over in a big way.
Abe had warned her that bringing Panther back to its glory days was going to be a struggle.
How right he was.
First of all, she’d refused to continue making the kind of cheapo garbage Panther had been churning out. Then she’d fired most of Mickey’s key executives, putting a new, first-rate team in place. After that, it had been a question of developing new projects—a slow process that took time and patience.
The studio had been running at a loss for years, with astronomical bank loans. Lucky and her business advisor, Morton Sharkey, had been forced to arrange another massive loan just to keep the studio operating. Then, after the first year’s disappointing net loss of nearly seventy million dollars, Lucky took stock and decided it was time to recoup some of her initial investment and diversify. Morton suggested selling blocks of shares to several corporations and a few private investors. It seemed like an excellent idea.
Morton had taken care of everything—finding the right investors who would basically leave her alone to run the studio; setting up a board of directors who wouldn’t interfere; and making sure she still owned 40 percent of the stock.
The good news was that currently Panther had two big movies on release, both of them performing extremely well. Finder, a showy vehicle for the controversial superstar Venus Maria—who also happened to be one of Lucky’s best friends. And River Storm, a sharp-edged detective thriller starring Charlie Dollar—the middle-aged hero of stoned America. Lucky was especially delighted, as both movies had been put together under her regime. She hoped this was the start of the turnaround she’d been working toward. “Give them good, interesting movies and they will come,” that was her motto.
She hurried into her office, where Kyoko, her loyal Japanese assistant, greeted her with a lengthy typed phone list and a morose shake of his head. Kyoko was a slight man in his thirties dressed in a Joseph Abboud jacket and sharply creased gray pants. He had glossy black hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, and an intelligent expression. Kyoko knew every aspect of the movie business, having worked as personal assistant to several top executives since graduating from college.
“What’s the matter, Ky?” Lucky asked, throwing off her Armani jacket and settling in a comfortable leather chair behind her oversized Art Deco desk.
Kyoko recited the day’s business: “You have fifteen phone calls to return; a ten-thirty with the Japanese bankers, followed by a production meeting regarding Gangsters; then a noon appointment with Alex Woods and Freddie Leon; lunch with Ven
us Maria; another production meeting at three; your interview with a reporter from Newstime; a six o’clock with Morton Sharkey; and—”
“Dinner at home, I hope,” she interrupted, wishing there were more hours in the day.
Kyoko shook his head. “Your plane departs for Europe at eight P.M. Your limo will pick you up at your house no later than seven.”
She smiled wryly. “Hmm…a twenty-minute dinner break—you’re slipping.”
“Your schedule would kill a lesser person,” Kyoko remarked.
Lucky shrugged. “We’re a long time dead, Ky. I don’t believe in wasting time.”
Kyoko was not surprised by her answer. He’d worked as Lucky’s personal assistant since she’d taken over the studio. She was a dedicated workaholic who never ran out of energy. She was also the smartest woman he’d ever met. Smart and beautiful—a devastating combination. Kyoko loved working for her as opposed to his last boss—an edgy mogul with a relentless coke problem and a small dick.
“See if you can get Lennie on his portable,” Lucky said. “He tried reaching me in the car this morning, the connection was deadly, couldn’t make out a word.”
Lennie Golden, the love of her life. They’d been married for four years and every day it seemed to get better.
Lennie was her third husband. Right now he was on location in Corsica shooting an action/adventure film. Three weeks apart was a killer; she couldn’t wait to join him for a long weekend of lounging around doing nothing except making slow, leisurely love.
Kyoko connected with the production office in Corsica. “Lennie’s out on a beach location,” he informed her, covering the mouthpiece. “Shall I leave a message?”
“Yes. Tell them to have him call his wife pronto. Mrs. Golden can be interrupted wherever she is.” She grinned when she said Mrs. Golden—being Lennie’s wife was the most fun of all.
Lennie’s movie was, regrettably, not a Panther production. Early on they’d both decided it wasn’t a wise move for it to be perceived that he was working for his wife. He was a big enough star in his own right, and making a movie for Panther would only induce false rumors of nepotism.
