Poor Little Bitch Girl by Jackie Collins

approaching her table. He was late tonight – usually he was around much earlier. Watching him, she had to admit that he had a certain style, although style wasn’t everything. Seasoning was preferable. If they weren’t nineteen, then Zeena liked them to be older and extraordinarily powerful. Extreme youth and excessive power – in Zeena’s world those were her two most potent aphrodisiacs.
    She continued to observe as Bobby slowly made his way over, stopping at each table. She watched as every female in the club clung onto his arm, trying to persuade him to sit down at their table, saw how he extracted himself with a polite shake of his head and a few kind words.
    Finally he presented himself at her table.
    “Zeena,” he said, playing the perfect host. “Nice to see you. Anything you need? Anything I can get you?”
    “If Zeena needs anything, Bobby,” she drawled, toying with the back of Puppy’s long hair, “Zeena will ask a waiter.”
    Bobby nodded. At least she remembered his name tonight, which wasn’t always the case.
    “Yeah. Sure,” he said. “But I’d like to send over a bottle of Cristal for you and your party.”
    “Only one bottle, Bobby?” she said, with a sly tilt of her head.
    Christ! She reminded him so much of Serenity, even though she was at least twenty years older. She had the same pissy attitude.
    “Or two,” he said, determined to stand up to her.
    Puppy smirked.
    Yeah , Bobby thought, keep on smirking, dude, you’ll soon be last month’s model.
    Zeena gave him a very direct challenging stare before flipping back her sheet of glossy black hair which fell below her waist. “Five bottles, Bobby,” she said, indicating the group of hangers-on who surrounded her. “Zeena’s friends are thirsty.”
    Bobby kept his cool, trying not to think about how spectacular she looked tonight in some kind of chocolate-brown spidery dress that barely covered her breasts. He could see her nipples. Yes, he could definitely see her nipples. “Two bottles on the house,” he said evenly. “The rest I’m afraid we’ll have to charge you for.”
    She arched a painted eyebrow. “You can’t possibly be serious?”
    He stood his ground. He might be suffering from some kind of insane crush, but business was business. “House rules,” he said pleasantly.
    “Ah, Bobby,” she sighed. “Are you aware that Zeena can go anywhere in the world and get everything for free?”
    “Lucky you,” he said, testing her.
    Would she get up and leave? Or would she stay? What did he want her to do?
    He honestly didn’t know.
    “Yes,” she murmured with a sarcastic twist. “Zeena is extraordinarily lucky.” A long beat. “How about you, Bobby? Are you lucky?”
    This was the longest exchange of words they’d ever had, and since it was obvious she was staying, he thought about making his move, even though she still had one hand caressing the back of Puppy’s neck.
    Puppy was glaring at him – in spite of the glare, he was giving off quite a gay vibe. What was that about?
    “I . . . uh . . . like to think a person makes their own luck,” Bobby said, clearing his throat.
    “Keep on thinking that way,” Zeena replied. “Naïveté is such a special quality.”
    And without further ado, she pulled Puppy’s face toward hers and indulged in a long tongues-down-each-other’s-throat intimate kiss.
    Bobby backed away from the table. Screw Zeena and her full entourage of hangers-on. She was playing with him, and he didn’t like it.
    Or was that exactly what he did like?

 
Chapter Thirteen

Annabelle

    “W ake up, babe,” Frankie crooned. “C’mon, sweetie, open up those sexy eyes.”
    Annabelle rolled over in bed. Someone was shaking her shoulder, someone was pulling her away from the most delightful dream she’d ever experienced. In her dream she was lying on a bed in a luxurious hotel room overlooking the ocean. With her were Chace Crawford and Brad Pitt. Chace was busily kissing her neck, while Brad