By Ken Scott
Beauty, most sensible task within the urban, Ferrari, moment and 3rd houses in Paris and Cannes, let alone a spacious penthouse overlooking the Thames. sure, it appeared Donavan Smith had all of it. And the ladies. prepared and keen. And if, each every so often, they were not so prepared, Donavan had his personal means of persuading them. Jenny McArthur used to be various although. She knew whatever bad had happened in the course of a ten-hour interval of her existence that was once a complete clean. yet, because it all progressively got here again to her, she relived the horrors encountered by the hands of Donavan Smith. and she or he desired to get even. Donavan must take care of her. Vicky Mackenzie harboured a mystery, a mystery that she hadn't disclosed to an individual. So why used to be she spilling the beans to a complete stranger from London, a stranger who she'd purely met that evening? She instructed him all approximately her previous lifestyles, the cold-blooded homicide of her husband, the phoney financial institution raid and the way the cash was once nonetheless in the market someplace. Donavan listened and questioned how he may well get his arms at the funds; questioned if it used to be attainable to devise a untimely retirement. it should get nasty, that used to be needless to say. yet why no longer? Donavan Smith had performed nasty sooner than, simply ask Jenny McArthur. Donavan Smith and Vicky Mackenzie: soul pals, secrets and techniques; it used to be a fit made in hell.
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Extra resources for A Million Would Be Nice
He tried her mobile phone yet again. “Hi, this is Jenny. I’m sorry I’m not able to take…” Donavan pressed the red button on the phone. ” **** Jenny’s mind was at peace at last. The half bottle of Bacardi and the hazy thoughts that Donavan Smith could hurt her no more were enough. She lay in the bath, the water a little on the cool side now. She had lost track of how long she had been there. She reached out for the transparent liquid and prepared to wash down yet another pill. Twenty more stared up at her from a neat line on the side of the bath.
A stunning, six-foot blonde girl showed them to a quiet table, situated in a private cubicle, deep within the heart of the club. She took the drinks order and Donavan slipped two fifty-pound notes into her hand. “Keep the change,” he whispered. He took Jenny’s jacket. “Just ordering the drinks,” he smiled. The girl returned shortly afterwards with a large ice bucket containing a bottle of pink champagne. She pressed a button within the cubicle and a green velvet curtain swept around, cutting the trio off from the prying eyes of the masses.
The body language was good. He considered himself an expert, and this was definitely one of the female species grooming herself for her next mate. No crossed arms, no frowns or negativity; every signal this girl threw at Donavan Smith was encouraging. Twenty minutes after Donavan took his seat, she left to make a phone call. She returned with a disappointed look on her face. “Yeah, I’ve been stood up. Stuck on a train at Darlington, she is. ” “I don’t understand. ” She drained the last of her drink “Work, that’s why…money.