Jackie Collins - The Power Trip

And he was married. And he had a son.

At the time.

He still had a son, Luca junior, who was now nine years old. But he was no longer married to the larger-than-life Latin superstar — Suga — the woman who’d discovered him as a teenager, nurtured his talent, married him, had his baby, and made him the star he was today.

Suga was twenty years older than Luca, yet still a voluptuous beauty with a huge following in South America. She’d accepted the fact that her husband was gay with humour and understanding. Divorce — no problem. ‘Ah, but Suga had you at your best,’ she’d joked. ‘Go do what makes you happy, Luca. My heart goes with you.’

Suga was an amazing woman, and to Luca’s delight they’d remained close friends, sharing custody of their handsome young son, who’d inherited the best of both his parents.

So, against the advice of everyone else — his agents, managers, record producers and label bosses — Luca had made the leap into gaydom. If Ricky Martin could do it and survive, why couldn’t he?

And survive he did. His fans were fiercely loyal; they adored him. Gay or straight, it didn’t matter to them. He was Luca Perez. He was their god. Now he was their gay god.

Still, Luca didn’t wish to flaunt his coming out. No threesomes or kinky goings-on in public, although once in a while he allowed Jeromy to throw a wild party at the mansion — no cameras allowed.

Jeromy Milton-Gold was not the partner people would expect Luca to choose. Jeromy was a tall, slim, very English Old Etonian, with patrician features, floppy brown hair, and a somewhat snobbish attitude. At forty-two he was twelve years older than his sun-kissed, blond-haired, buff-bodied, famous boyfriend. They made an incongruous couple; however, it seemed to work for them.

The envelope addressed to Luca Perez and Jeromy Milton-Gold looked like it contained something interesting, for it was of excellent quality, with intricate embossed gold calligraphy, and most of all it appeared tasteful and expensive.

Sitting at his David Armstrong Jones desk in his London showroom adjacent to Sloane Square, Jeromy Milton-Gold pried open the envelope with a silver letter-opener and extracted the enclosed invitation.

He read it carefully. Twice.

A satisfied smile crossed his face. This was one invitation they were not turning down.

He slid open the centre drawer of his desk, carefully placed the invitation back in its envelope, and put it next to his passport. Tomorrow he would show it to Luca and insist that they accept.

Sometimes Luca could be stubborn, only this time Jeromy refused to take no for an answer. This time it was a done deal.

Dateline: New York

The politician and his lovely wife were invited everywhere — they were one of the most popular couples in the city. He, so honest-looking and upstanding with his regular features, well-cut brown hair and an ‘I will do everything I can for my people’ attitude. She, both delicate and strong at the same time, slender, with shoulder-length honey-coppery hair, a beautiful face, and widely spaced warm brown eyes.

Her name was Sierra Kathleen Snow. His name was Hammond Patterson junior, although — much to his father’s chagrin — shortly after getting into politics he’d dropped the junior. ‘It doesn’t sound right,’ he’d muttered.

‘I’ll tell you what sounds right,’ his father had raged. ‘Using the family name and the family reputation. That’s what sounds right to me.’

Hammond Patterson junior wasn’t so sure. His father had been a Congressman for many years, and that was not the role Hammond was planning to play. Instead, after college he’d gone straight to law school, then pursued a career as an attorney, and in time he’d parlayed that career into becoming — at thirty-six — one of the youngest Senators in the house.

Representing New York as the junior Senator, he was full of ambition. He had high hopes that eventually he would become Governor of the State, then after that, possibly make a run for the White House.

Why not? He had all the right credentials. And most of all he had supreme confidence.

Hammond was an extremely driven man. Nothing was about to stop him.

Sierra, on the other hand, possessed a warmth and candour that attracted men and women alike. She was smart and compassionate with a generous soul. As far as Hammond was concerned she was the perfect political wife, an asset to have by his side at all times, which is exactly why he’d picked her.

Recently Hammond’s climb to the top had come across an unexpected stumbling block. And that stumbling block was the disturbing realization that he’d fathered a daughter in his younger years. Apparently he’d gotten some girl pregnant, and that girl had gone ahead and given birth to a daughter named Radical.

Radical had arrived at his office one day, fifteen years old and determined to meet her father.

Hammond was furious and shocked. When the girl finally got in to see him and announced that she was his daughter, he didn’t believe her. This couldn’t be happening to him. It was impossible.

But Radical produced a birth certificate with his name on it, and informed him that her mom had recently died from a drug overdose, and that she had nowhere else to go.

Two paternity tests later, Hammond was forced to admit that this strange unruly teenager with streaks of green in her dyed black hair, multiple piercings, and a snotty attitude was indeed his.

Sierra, being the kind and thoughtful person that she was, had insisted that Radical join the family.

‘We have to take her in,’ Sierra had lectured him. ‘She’s your daughter. You have no choice. Think of your public image if you don’t.’

Finally Hammond had agreed, terrified that the sudden appearance of an illegitimate teenage daughter would wreak havoc with his carefully projected image.

The public, it turned out, still loved Hammond and Sierra. They were accepting of Hammond’s youthful transgression. Sexual scandals involving politicians were nothing new, and with Sierra next to him, Hammond could do no wrong.

Radical turned out to be a nightmare. Rude and wilful, she caused trouble wherever she went. She hated her father, and he hated her right back.

Angry that he was stuck with her, Hammond soon packed her off to boarding school in Switzerland, even forcing Sierra to agree that it was for the best.

Radical went. But not without a fight.

When Hammond’s assistant, Nadia, entered his office and showed him the fancy invitation, he didn’t hesitate. Without checking with Sierra, he instructed Nadia to immediately accept.

Hammond smelled big money, major campaign contributions when the time came for him to run, for he was well aware that important connections were everything. Plus this was a fine chance for him to start planting the seeds of his unstoppable ambition.

Yes, Hammond knew a viable opportunity when it came his way. He was no fool.

Sierra Kathleen Snow was born into great privilege. Her father was the well-respected Pulitzer Prize winner Archibald Snow, an academic and renowned writer of history tomes, while her mother, Phoebee, was a true New York society beauty whose family dated back to the Founding Fathers.

Sierra had an older sister, Clare, who was married to a pediatrician and had written a series of best-selling books about parenting. Clare and her husband had three young children, and resided in Connecticut. Sierra also had a brother, Sean, who lived in Hawaii with a woman he’d picked up on the beach.