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Scott Rosen thought he had sealed the deal when the pretty blond something got up to use the bathroom. It was almost 2 a. The table was adorned with a candle, and Rosen's trademark custom Rolex reflected the flame into a brilliant gold mosaic. Rosen, whose taut, wiry frame resembles that of Sopranos wiseguy Uncle Paulie, would never speak to that blond again. The striking, five-foot-six Rihanna look-alike wore her long, curly hair pulled to one side. Moments later, she beckoned a blond bombshell in a light-blue dress.
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Rosen wasn't much interested in Rihanna, but the fair-haired, lithe one was just his type. He didn't want to show his cards too quickly, though, so he issued an invitation. Then Rosen turned to his bodyguard of eight years, Scott Hostler.
As Rosen clambered into the back seat with the girls, the only thing the blinged-out bachelor could think about was what would happen back at his waterfront condo once they peeped his foot yacht. Conversation was minimal. The Rihanna look-alike, who had introduced herself as "Crystal," chattered a bit, but the blond wasn't much of a talker. After a minute drive up I, they stopped in his driveway.
With a wink and a nod, Rosen sent home his gun-strapped bodyguard; then the three headed inside. Hey, I'm a single guy , he reasoned with his four-drink-deep brain. What's the worst that could happen? After Hostler left, Crystal asked for a tour of Rosen's boat, Chandelle , which was docked outside. LED lights on the deck railings twinkled like diamonds as they reflected off the Intracoastal. In the house, the blond took a cigar from the kitchenette and lit up. She then proceeded to the living room, where she pulled a bottle of Ketel One from the bar and mixed three cocktails.
