A Santangelo Story by Jackie Collins

Author:Jackie Collins [Collins, Jackie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Published: 2009-04-02T07:00:00+00:00

After making certain that she looked her most seductive, Annabelle buzzed downstairs to check that her car was waiting. Her main residence was a Park Avenue penthouse where she and Frankie spent most of their time, but she still kept the SoHo loft; it was the place her parents and old friends could contact her. Not that her parents ever did—she heard from them maybe once every few weeks. And she wasn’t really interested in her old friends. She had a new life now, and in her new life very few people knew who her parents were and where she came from. That’s the way she liked it.

Earlier in the day, Frankie had driven to Atlantic City to spend the weekend with a couple of his guy friends, Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos and Bobby’s business partner, M.J. Annabelle knew both Bobby and M.J. from way back when they’d all attended the same high school in Beverly Hills. Yeah, fun times. She’d never forgotten the infamous prom night when the three of them had hung out, gotten totally high, and on a dare she’d ended up making out with the two of them.

Hmm…just one of those crazy out-of-control teenage escapades, although it was quite a memorable experience. None of them had ever mentioned it again. It was a no-go zone.

Then one night, years later after she’d moved to New York, she’d walked into Mood, and there they were—Bobby and M.J. At first it was a shock seeing them, but they’d soon got to talking and catching up on old times. In fact, it was M.J. who’d introduced her to Frankie.

She’d never told Frankie about her one night of lust with his two best friends; some things were better left in the past. Besides, she didn’t imagine he’d be too thrilled if he ever found out, and when pushed, Frankie had a vicious temper.

Since gambling seemed to be Frankie’s new passion, she hadn’t objected to him taking off. Her live-in boyfriend was a handful and then some, so she didn’t mind the occasional night on her own. Chilling out without Frankie would allow her a pleasant break.

The concierge informed her that her driver was parked outside. She picked up her Chanel purse and headed for the door.

As she stepped out into the hallway, the phone began to ring, but she chose to ignore it. She had a thing about phones, hated answering them. Whoever it was could leave a message.

She left the apartment and descended in the elevator, quite psyched about the prospect of inducting an innocent young man into the joys of sex. His father, Sharif Rani, was one of their best customers. Sharif required a different girl several times a week, and he always came back for more. Annabelle considered Sharif Rani to be a primo client, along with the Hollywood movie star who was an insatiable pussy-hound and the Hall of Fame rock ’n’ roller with the nine-inch cock and a penchant for girls who would agree to indulge in bathroom activities all over his craggy face.

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