Double Lucky by Jackie Collins Page A

Remember what I have always told you about girls, Henry. When they look at you, all they see is dollar signs. You are a Whitfield-Simmons, and do not ever forget it.”
    As if he could. She’d drilled it into him since he was six. He was a Whitfield-Simmons, and one day he would inherit the Whitfield-Simmons fortune.
    â€œMaybe,” he replied, refusing to look her in the eye. “I’ll phone you, Mother, and let you know when I’ll be back.”
    â€œVery well, Henry, I certainly hope you have a pleasant time.”
    â€œI think I will,” he said, limping toward the door. “As a matter of fact, I’m sure I will.”
    â€œLook after yourself, dear,” Penelope said, her attention drifting back to the tulips, which seemed in dire need of fresh water.
    â€œI always do,” Henry muttered, aware that his mother was no longer listening to him.
    He exited the house and stood for a few minutes in the circular driveway.
    Markus, his mother’s chauffeur, appeared. “Can I help you, Mr. Henry?” Markus asked. He was black and subservient, and had been with the Whitfield-Simmons family since before Henry was born. Shades of Driving Miss Daisy , Henry thought. He knew plenty about movies, because apart from his time spent hunched over his computer, he was a movie buff, fascinated by old movies, and especially horror classics such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre , and every one of the Freddy films.
    â€œNo help needed, thank you, Markus,” he said. “I shall be away for the weekend.”
    Markus’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “That’s nice, Mr. Henry, a nice change for you.”
    â€œYes, it is,” Henry agreed.
    â€œWhat car will you be wanting to take?” Markus inquired.
    â€œMother’s Bentley.”
    â€œOh, no, Mr. Henry,” Markus said, looking dismayed and beginning to sweat. “Mrs. Penelope won’t allow that. She’s given me strict orders—”
    â€œI understand, Markus. I was merely joking.”
    â€œYes, Mr. Henry, I knew that,” Markus said, thoroughly relieved. “You was joking with me.”
    â€œI’ll take the Volvo.”
    â€œCertainly, Mr. Henry, I’ll bring it round to the front.”
    â€œThat’s okay, I’ll get it myself.”
    â€œIf you’re sure…”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    Henry walked around the side of the house where the cars were lined up in a row of garages. There was his mother’s shiny royal blue Bentley, also a pristine black Cadillac she used when she considered the Bentley too flashy to take on one of her charity jaunts downtown, and next to the Cadillac, a gray Mercedes SUV for shopping trips.
    The dark brown Volvo lurked in a corner spot. It was the car out-of-town guests used when they came to stay, and sometimes Markus was allowed to take it out. Ever since his accident Henry had not wanted a car of his own; there was no point since he wasn’t going anywhere.
    But today he was. Oh yes, today he was off on a mission, and he had to admit that getting out of the house was quite exhilarating.
    Opening the trunk of the Volvo, he carefully placed his canvas holdall inside. It contained everything he needed for a very interesting weekend indeed.

 
    CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    Vegas and Anthony Bonar were a good match. What’s not to like? Anthony thought whenever he visited the desert city. Gambling, spectacular shows, fine restaurants, and beautiful women — plenty of hot, sexy, ready-to-do-anything babes.
    Not that he was looking, he had enough to deal with juggling Emmanuelle and Carlita—Irma didn’t count. But even though he wasn’t on the hunt, Vegas was Vegas, and if some ready-to-rock piece of ass took his fancy, why turn it down? Viagra meant never having to say you were too tired.
    He didn’t need the damn blue pills, but after trying Viagra a couple of times he’d become addicted to the major