Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) (32 page)

She leaned forward in her
seat not giving him time to answer.
 
“Why didn’t you come to see me?
 
Pick up a phone?
 
Send
flowers or a note to at least acknowledge what happened?”

“We closed on four deals
last week.
 
There was no time.
 
But I kept tabs on you.”

“Through who?”

“Your doctor.”

“My doctor shared private
information with you?”

“I’m your father.
 
I’m family.
 
I was told that you were going to be
fine.”

“And when were you told
that?
 
Because for days there, it
seemed as if I was going to be anything but fine.
 
It looked as if I was going to lose the
sight in my right eye.”
 
The answer
came to her before he could speak.
 
“Because you waited before you called, didn’t you?
 
You didn’t call when it first
happened.
 
You chose to call later,
when you realized I wasn’t going to be released anytime soon.
 
Is that correct?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“You know what matters to
me, Leana?
 
When Ryan shot me, you
and your new husband left the hospital without saying a word to me.
  
Didn’t check in.
 
Didn’t care.
 
Just left.
 
How do you think that made me feel?
 
Did you give me a second thought?
 
No.
 
You intentionally chose to ignore me.
 
So get over it.
 
We can waste our time pointing fingers
at who’s the bigger ass, or we can sit down and figure out a way that you can
devote time to The Park and to my project.”

“Fine,” Leana said.
 
“But fair warning.
 
I don’t come cheap.”

“No Redman should,”
George said.
 
“Unless your name is
now De Cicco, in which case you’ve put yourself on sale.
 
Which is it?”

She wanted to kill
him.
 
“I’ve kept my name.
 
It’s Redman.”

“Smart
choice.”

CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO

When Leana arrived at her
father’s Columbus Circle high-rise at 157 West Fifty-Seventh Street, it was
just after eight o’clock and morning traffic was thick.
 

She was in a black,
bulletproof Bentley Anastassios had loaned her.
 
While Sean wouldn’t allow her to open
her window, she nevertheless pressed her head against the glass and looked up
at the towering building, which was so sleek and unusual in its design, it
seemed otherworldly to her.
 
This
trumped The Hotel Fifth.
 
As modern
and as edgy as that building was, this slayed it.

This was part of the new
New York—a one-thousand-foot-tall needle with walls of glass that
provided unobstructed views of the Park as well as the rest of the city.
 
It reminded her of some of the buildings
in Dubai.
 
There were no better city
views than those provided here.
 
With the building’s glass curtain walls and interiors meant to echo the
great French modernists, such as Jean-Michel Frank, her father had designed the
building to redefine luxury New York living.

The building was
positioned in the center of the Park and, at ninety stories, it offered those
who would live there opulence at an enormous cost.
 

For instance, to satisfy
Chinese buyers, her father told her, full-floor apartments were intentionally
located on the eightieth to eighty-eighth floors.
 
It was a shrewd move on his part because
the number eight, in Chinese culture, was a symbol of good luck.
 
“And the Chinese have money, Leana.
 
But so do the Russians and Saudis, and
they may get to them first.
 
Not
that I care.
 
Either way, once
they’re made available, they won’t last long.
 
I expect a bidding war.”

Initial asking price for
those floors?
 
Upwards of ninety
million dollars per apartment.
 
Initial asking price for the eighty-ninth and ninetieth floors?
 
One hundred million and up, a price that
was nearly unheard of in Manhattan, but which her father was confident he could
get.
 

“I’m expecting one
hundred-seventy million for the ninetieth floor.
 
Maybe more.
 
It’s all about ego, money and prestige
at this point.
 
We’ll see if I’m
wrong.”

Today, he charged her to
meet with Pepper, debrief with her so Pepper could move on to other projects,
and then tour the building before she sat down with the real estate firm to
view final staging concepts and marketing materials, which they had presented
to Pepper yesterday.
 

Based on feedback George
received separately from Leana and Pepper, George would then sit with the firm
and either give his approval or ask for a fresh round of changes, which, under
their tight deadline, would need to be completed at once.

“What did Pepper think of
their presentation?”

Her father just smiled at
Leana.
 

“All right,” she
said.
 
“Fair enough.
 
But I have more questions.”

“That’s fine.
 
But I’m also busy, so you’ve got fifteen
minutes to ask them,” George said.
 
“I suggest you step it up.”

*
 
*
 
*

When she entered the
building’s lobby with Sean, she saw Pepper first.
 
But how could she miss her?
 
That cloying voice.
 
That flash of red hair against the gray
marble walls.
 
And Pepper, who
missed nothing, heard the door open and turned to look her way.
 

She was talking to a
middle-aged man in a dark business suit, but excused herself from him and
started to walk the distance between them with a briskness that Leana found
amusing given how uptight Pepper looked.
 
Once again, she was in a Chanel suit, this one navy blue with white
piping.
 
Her red hair, in sharp contrast
to the suit, looked as hot as the tension between them.

“You’re smiling,” Leana said.
 
“It’s nice to see you smile.
 
Are you thinking of the day you left
Arkansas?”

“I don’t know what you’re
talking about, Leana.
 
I was raised
in Atlanta.
 
You know that.
 
Oh, and by the way, nice eyepatch.
 
I hear everything is going to be fine
for you.
 
What a relief.
 
For a moment, I thought we were going to
have to deal with another felled Redman.”

“‘Another felled
Redman.’
 
I’ll let my father know
you said that.
 
He misses Celina as
much as we all do.
 
I don’t think
he’ll take kindly to you referring to her as a ‘felled Redman.’”

“That’s not what I
meant.”
 

“Of course that’s what
you meant.”

“Sorry.
 
It wasn’t.”

“Then what did you mean,
Pepper?”

“Certainly not that.
 
We all miss Celina.”
 
Pepper refused to go further.
 
She looked at Sean.
 
“Who’s he?”

“Sean Scott.
 
My head of security.”

“You need a head of
security?”

“Look at my face,
Pepper.
 
What do you think?”

“It must be awful to be
targeted like that,” Pepper said.
 

“Isn’t it you who said
you wanted fame?”

“Not your kind of
fame.
 
Nearly gunned down at a Best
Buy, of all places.
 
Imagine how
that would have played in a
Times
obituary if the unthinkable had
happened.
 
Assuming, of course, that
they decided to print it.
 
If they
had, it would have been awful.
 
It
would have spoiled the Redman name.”

“Because I went to a Best
Buy?”

“Of course.
 
Don’t you have an assistant?”

“I don’t need an
assistant.”

“Then you have too much
time on your hands.
 
I have no idea
what that’s like anymore.
 
What a
luxury.”

“Pepper,” Leana said,
“you and I are on equal ground here.
 
I’m sure you’ve heard that from my father.”

“What I’ve heard from
Uncle George is that you’re being
tested
.”

“What you and I need to
do now is debrief,” Leana said.
 
“Then you can leave and let me carry on with my morning.”

“Great.
 
Here’s what you need to know,
Leana.”
 
And Pepper Redman let loose
with a litany of details that were so specific, they were meant to throw
Leana’s head into a fog.
 
Pepper spoke
for almost ten minutes, speaking quickly and gesticulating around the
lobby.
 
She barely stopped to take a
breath until she had no choice but to do so.
 
When she finished, she cocked her head
at Leana.
 
“So, that’s where we
stand.
 
I hope you got all that,
because I need to leave.”

Leana held up her new
iPhone and hit “Play.”
 
She secretly
had recorded the conversation.
 
Pepper listened to her own rushed voice spilling its misleading maze of
rapid-fire information.
 
Realizing
that she’d lost this round, her face fell for a moment before she caught
herself and looked coolly at her cousin.

“That’s so clever,” she
said.
 
“Look at you.
 
Your own personal assistant.”

Leana leaned so close to
Pepper, she could smell her perfume and the coffee on her breath.
 
“Can I share something with you,
Pepper?
 
Something just between us
cousins?”

“I don’t think—”

“I’m going to kick your
ass.
 
I’m going to crush you like
one of those big Arkansas bugs that used to freak you out when we were kids,
and then I’m going to wipe up the floor with you.
 
What you just tried to pull a moment
ago?
 
That’s exactly what I’d expect
from you.
 
So, watch your back,
Wharton, because you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
 

“You’re so common,
Leana.
 
So cheap.
 
What makes you think I don’t plan to do
the same to you?”

“Planning isn’t doing,
Pepper.
 
I just proved that, and that’s
where you’ve already failed.”
 
She
smiled before walking away with Sean.
 
“Have a nice day.”

“I will,” Pepper said
with steel in her voice.
 
“And
because it’s so difficult for you to see, try not to trip over anything.
 
We’d hate to have a casualty onsite when
we’re so close to opening.”

“The only casualty,”
Leana said, “is going to be your career.”

*
 
*
 
*

When they were far enough
away from her, Sean Scott asked Leana if they could go somewhere private and
talk.
 
They went to the far end of
the lobby, took a left and disappeared from Pepper’s sight.

“What is it?” she asked.

“How would you feel if I
investigated Miss Redman back there?”

“You mean, dig up some
dirt on her?” Leana said.

“If there is any there.”

Leana put her arm on his
shoulder and they started back into the lobby.
 
Soon, the real estate firm would arrive
and she needed to be ready for them.
 
“Sean,” she said, “Pepper over there is like a pig in shit who happened
to land in a Chanel suit.
 
You’ll
find something on her.
 
When you do,
I’d appreciate you telling me what that is.”

“Consider
it done, Miss Redman.”

CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE