How's this?
A British millionaire playboy (let's say he's an Earl) tours the flesh-pots of Monte Carlo rescuing lap-dancers.
He falls in love with a dusky Nightclub hostess twenty years his junior, and within weeks they are married.
Things turn sour when he falls for a younger nightclub hostess, and while he's wowing the casinos on the French riviera, James Bond style, he has a blazing row with the feisty young wife, and her evil brother strangles him to death. The wife and her brother then drive to an isolated ravine in a sportscar with the dead Earl in the trunk and dispose of the body.
Crap, forget it. That's too far-fetched for anyone to believe.