“You aren’t thinking about that little redhead you left behind, are you? She’s the last woman you need to get involved with. Don’t delude yourself, boy. You’ll never be a one-woman man. You’re too much like your father.” He flashed Clay his I’m-proud-of-you-son grin.
“Come on,” Avery coaxed, sprinkling more of the white powder onto the mirror on the chrome coffee table in front of the sofa. With a razor blade, he carefully minced any lumps, then straightened the powder into rows. “You’re too uptight. It’ll do you good to forget your troubles for a while.”
His father rarely pressed him on the issue of drugs. It was one Clay felt strongly about. Booze and women were usually enough of a high for Clay, but he couldn’t even feel the Glenfiddish he’d been guzzling. Apparently, his black mood was obvious to his father, who seemed determined to end it.
“Come on, son,” he coaxed.
Clay smiled grimly. “Why the hell not?” he said. “You only live once.”
“Good boy!” Avery clapped him on the back and Adrianna ran her hand along the inside of his thigh.
Clay accepted the rolled up hundred-dollar bill from his father, covered one nostril, leaned forward and inhaled a single white line. He did the same with the other nostril, then passed the bill to Adrianna.
“That’s my darling,” she cooed and nibbled the side of his neck.
Clay could barely feel it. He felt warm from the drugs and best of all, numb, exactly what he wanted.
“Clay, honey,” a second female voice put in. “You aren’t ignoring me, are you?”
It was Gina Pavetti, Adrianna’s niece, a younger version of her attractive aunt. Gina had the same flawless olive complexion and thick-lashed, black eyes. The last time Clay had seen her, she’d just turned sixteen.
“How could any red-blooded man ignore you, Gina?” Clay hadn’t forgotten the way the girl had come into his room in the middle of the night and climbed naked into bed with him. Clay had smacked her bottom and sent her packing.
He looked at her now, a grown woman whose sexual appetites appeared to have blossomed along with the rest of her. She scooted up beside him and slid her arms around his neck.
“Isn’t this better?” Her black hair touched his cheek as she dipped her head and kissed him. Her lips felt soft and warm, but he thought of another pair, lush and smiling, and eyes so trusting he felt a crushing weight on his chest.
His father passed him the rolled-up bill, and Clay lowered his head to the beckoning white powder.
The pilot announced their imminent arrival in Nice, and they all fastened their seat belts. Though the cocaine had numbed him, Clay rested his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, hoping to block his thoughts. He didn’t stir until the plane touched down and taxied to the executive terminal.
Every summer the Contessa Pavetti rented a villa on either the French or Italian Riviera. This summer the sprawling mansion she had chosen overlooked the blue waters of Monaco. Clay’s room was huge and elegant: ceilings with painted frescos, marble floors, a massive four-poster draped with expensive velvet tapestries, a marble bath with golden cherub fixtures.
The valet had unpacked for him. Clay had come to the room to change into his swimsuit for a few hours out by the pool. He threw off his clothes and pulled on his suit. He’d been drinking steadily, and the cocaine was doing its insidious best to keep his mind in a state of numbness.
Grabbing a towel, he returned poolside to find his father, Adrianna, and Gina splashing gaily, stark naked in the water.
“Come on, Clay,” Gina pouted. “Don’t be a spoil sport. Take off your suit and join us. The water feels wonderful.”
Clay looked at the lush curves of her body. She was built more voluptuously than her aunt, an almost Grecian appearance. Her sexuality seemed in character with those overindulgent times.
It was what he had come here for, wasn’t it? He pulled off his suit and dove into the pool. Gina was beside him the instant his head broke the water. Giggling, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” she teased, kissing the corner of his mouth.
Clay looked down at the sculpted lines of her face. Water beaded on the swells of her breasts, the tips just cresting the surface. “I should have whacked you harder,” he said, only half teasing.
“Anytime, lover, a little pain just enhances the pleasure.” She giggled, one hand traveling down his body, determined to arouse him. Clay felt strangely unmoved. He pulled her arm from around his neck and dove beneath the water. Craving the exertion, he swam several laps, trying to understand why none of this appealed to him as it had in the past.
“Let’s go inside,” Adrianna suggested after they’d all climbed out of the pool.
“I think I’ll stay out here and catch some sun,” Clay said.
“Come on, Clay, you’ve been drag-assing all day.” Impatience was back in Avery’s voice. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“I guess I’m just worried about the competition,” he lied. “I hate to break training.”
“That’s a lot of horseshit. The contessa’s been planning this for weeks. We can’t disappoint her, can we?” There was no mistaking his father’s annoyance. “Come on inside, we’ll have a little more blow, party, and then relax.”
