The St. Tropez Lonely Hearts Club Read Online Free PDF Page B

discovery. Though she had not yet reached the superstar status that would entice Maximus to say his first
buongiorno.
    Then he spotted the ageing diva Sophie Silvestri surrounded by several fawning acolytes – she was definitely worth a good morning peck on the cheek and a mini-grovel. Even though Max hated the bitch, she was a huge celebrity, screen icon and legendary beauty, who stood up to Father Time and, in spite of half a century in showbiz, was still at the top of her game.
    ‘Buongiorno, bellissima,’
Maximus beamed and kissed the goddess’s white-gloved hand, which she offered to avert the risk of him smearing her matte-powdered cheek.
    ‘
Ciao,
Maximus,’ Sophie replied, politely cool. There were paparazzi everywhere, not to mention some guests who had slyly taken out their iPhones and, while pretending to check emails, were instead filming the stars. She didn’t want to be seen as the spoilt prima donna everyone thought she was.
    ‘More beeyootiful than ever,
cara
– how do you do it?’
    ‘Make-up,’ snapped the diva, then turning to the couple beside her said, ‘Maximus Gobbi, may I introduce you to Count Nicanor Di Ponti and his lovely wife, Contessa Carlotta?’
    ‘Charmed, charmed, I’m sure,’ Maximus started to bow and then remembered he had buttoned his jacket to hide the rip in his shirt, and the button was already at breaking point. The bow turned into a sort of awkward head bend, which almost made Carlotta giggle. Maximus’s Rolodex of a mind scanned through a bunch of names until he hit the jackpot. ‘Of course, Count Di Ponti, delighted to meet you. You have a very beeyootiful wife, if I may say so.’
    Nicanor, unimpressed by this old man in the wrinkled suit, nodded brusquely and turned to Carlotta. ‘I’m going outside to watch the test runs – see you at lunch.’ Then, with a disdainful glance at Max, added sarcastically, ‘I’m sure he will entertain you.’
    With that, Nicanor moved through the elegantly set tables to the outside terrace, where the Grand-Prix drivers were doing their warm-up lap through the streets of Monaco before the race.
    Max turned to Carlotta with his most winning smile, ‘Would you like to go outside to watch as well, my dear?’ Carlotta shook her head shyly.
    He sensed a vulnerability and nervousness in the lovely young woman, and also realised he had heard a lot about this famous Argentine family. Rumour had it that Nicanor was an avid womaniser who liked them very young and often beat them up. He was also a fanatical follower of the latest fashions in designer drugs, and there were rumours that he had caused the accidental death of a young girl. The marriage was no love match any more, Maximus had heard, but they stayed together for the sake of the Di Ponti family name and their daughter.
    ‘Then would you like to sit down?’ Maximus countered, noticing her wistful gaze towards her nonchalant husband, who was now leaning on the terrace balustrade, smoking a cigar and chatting animatedly with Sergei Litvak’s gorgeous model wife, Lilly. Lilly was an ex-beauty queen and a model of exquisite perfection. From her tumbling blonde curls to her amazing body sheathed in skintight floral Dolce & Gabbana, she was the embodiment of gorgeous womanhood and she knew it.
    Max clocked the couple’s intimate body language, and stored it away in his mind for future reference, deciding to concentrate instead on this forlorn-looking but lovely flower of a young woman. Maximus, from years of practice, was an expert at reading people where others failed. He was able to penetrate the carapace of the public faces and see their real selves behind the masks, and he could sense palpable unhappiness emanating from Carlotta in the fleeting expressions and glances at her husband.
    What she needs is a good roll in the hay,
he thought, noticing Carlotta’s eyes stray towards the strapping stud who had just sauntered into the room.
    ‘Ah, Fabrizio,
caro!
Come here, I must