Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) (39 page)

“Whatever.
 
Why are you doing this?
 
Your focus should be on The Park, not on
one of your father’s projects.
 
What’s to be gained by it?”

“His respect.”

“That still matters to
you?
 
After how he’s treated
you?
 
When are you going to get over
that?”

“When I prove him wrong.”

“You already have with
your own hotel.
 
Don’t you see that?”

“My hotel hasn’t opened
yet.
 
There’s no guarantee that it
will be a success.
 
It could be a
massive fail.”

“You know better.”

“With my brother’s help
and with Zack’s help, we should have a good showing on opening night.
 
I’ll agree to that.”

“So, it’s just your
brother and Zack who’s driving this?
 
Where are you in the equation?
 
You’ve invested a year of your life in this hotel without them.
 
The hotel was booked before you brought
them in.
 
You did that, not them.”

“I understand that.
 
If it succeeds, good for me.
 
If it doesn’t, I’ll have to suck it up
and try something else.
 
But right
now, while I have my father’s attention, I want to show him what I’m capable of
doing.
 
I want to shove down his
throat why he shouldn’t have overlooked me all these years.”

“I can’t believe you
still care about this shit.”

“I’m sorry.
 
I do.”

Mario took a bite of his
pizza and looked at her in disappointment.

“Look, Mario—you
know my history with him.”

“All the more reason to
dump him.”

“Don’t tell me there
isn’t a part of you that wants to please your father.”

“I’m not sure there
is.
 
Do you want to please yours?”

“I want to show him up.”

“That’s different, but
what’s the point?
 
I thought you
were beyond this.
 
I thought you
were going to go off in your own direction.
 
Harold gave you that money for that very
reason.
 
So, what’s changed?
 
Oh, wait.
 
Your father brought in Pepper and not
you, and that pisses you off.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, but I don’t think
investing in him is worth your time.
 
You should be focused on you and your own success, not his, because
that’s what you’re going to hand him.
 
Success.
 
What about yours?”

“My focus will still be
on the hotel.”

“Not all of it.”

“I can do two things at
once, Mario.”

“Then do two things for
yourself.
 
You’ve got enough
money.
 
Your investors are
happy.
 
Find another project.
 
Expand
your
reach, not his.”

“I guess you don’t
understand how much he hurt me while I was growing up.”

“I do understand.
 
But seriously, Leana, you have to get
over it at some point.
 
I thought
you had.
 
When we were in Europe, I
know for a fact that you were happier without him in your life.
 
I don’t think rewarding him with your
work and talent is in your best interest.”

“This isn’t exactly a
huge time investment, Mario.
 
Pepper
did the heavy lifting, but now she’s screwing up.
 
People are quitting because of her
attitude.
 
Key people.
 
People my father needs to get this job
done.
 
And her attention to detail
isn’t what she thinks it is.
 
In
order to get the project finished on time, I need to manage it and her, which
I’ll do.
 
I hear you when you say
that it shouldn’t matter what my father thinks of me, but it does matter.
 
Yes, I admit it.
 
I can’t shake the past.
 
I want to prove him wrong, and then I’ll
get out.
 
So, I’ll do the job, I’ll
prove him wrong, I’ll satisfy whatever part of me needs satisfying, and then
I’ll move forward.
 
Pepper can have
the rest of it at that point.
 
But
at least he’ll see what he missed in me, which matters to me.
 
I’m sorry, but it does.”

“All right,” he said.
 
“I get it, especially if it means that
much to you.
 
But do me a
favor?
 
If you’re going to do this,
knock it out of the park so you can walk away feeling validated.
 
If you don’t, I think there always will
be a part of you that’s going to want to go back and prove him wrong again.”

“I love you,” she said.

“And I love you.
 
Enough to offer you another piece of
pizza.”

“I’ve already had two
pieces.”

“Have another.
 
Apparently, you’re going to need the
energy.”

Her cell phone rang.

“Oh, good,” she said,
reaching across the table for it.
 
“My figure spared by a phone call.
 
And maybe it’s Pepper, which means I’ll burn through thousands of
calories.”
 
She checked the screen
and didn’t recognize the number, which gave her a start because only those
closest to her had the number for her new phone.
 
She showed it to Mario as the phone rang
again.
 
“I don’t know who this is.”

“Let me answer it.”

She shook her head, put
it on speaker and answered.
 
“Hello?”

“Leana?”

A man’s voice.

“Leana Redman?”

“Who is this?” she asked.

“A friend.”

“Hang up,” Mario said.

“But don’t you want her
brother to live, Mario?”

He looked at her.

“Because if you do, I’d
stay on the line.
 
I’d listen to
me.
 
Don’t interrupt.
 
Just listen.
 
Especially you, Leana.
 
Right now, your brother is having dinner
at db Bistro Moderne.
 
He arrived an
hour ago.
 
I expect him to leave
soon.
 
What’s so great is that I can
see him right here from the street.
 
He’s with a woman, much older than he, but she’s put together—I’ll
give her that.
 
I’m thinking industry.
 
I’m thinking one of his agents.
 
Probably something to do with this new
movie of his.
 
These days, you can’t
get away from him or it.
 
They’re
everywhere.
 
Television, radio,
print, and forget about Times Square.
 
Your brother owns Times Square right now.
 
But you already know that.
 
It’s amazing that you’ve managed to stay
close considering your questionable histories together.
 
Sleeping with your brother?
 
Marrying him?
 
Who does that?
 
Oh, right, those who are tricked into
it, as you were.
 
Leana, I’m calling
because I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about killing your brother
tonight.
 
Or tomorrow night.
 
Or next week.
 
Not really sure.
 
But it’s going to happen.
 
And then it will happen to you.
 
Then to your father.
 
There’s a whole host of activity coming
up for all of you, though I refuse to say just when it will happen.
 
I hope you can stomach it, Leana.
 
Just like you’re trying to stomach one of
those inedible pizzas shucked by your husband’s shit restaurant.
 
Sorry, Mario, but they’re awful.
 
What happened to your Italian
roots?
 
Have you forgotten your
nonna’s
recipes?”

Mario
reached for the phone.
 
Before he
could turn it off, the man said, “Anyway, I’ll be seeing all of you soon.
 
Probably with a Glock at Michael’s
funeral.
 
Good night.”

CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE

Immediately, Leana called
Michael on his cell.
 
He answered on
the third ring.

“Leana?”

“Where are you now?”

“At a restaurant.
 
Why?”

She closed her eyes.
 
“db Bistro?”

“How did you know?”

“Listen to me,” she
said.
 
“I just received a call.
 
I’ll give you the details later, but
someone is outside the restaurant watching you.
 
Are you with an older woman?”

“I’m with my literary
agent.”

“Would that be an older
woman?”

“Yes.”

Her stomach sank.
 

“What did this person
say?”

She couldn’t shield him
from the truth.
 
For his own safety,
he needed full disclosure.
 
“That he
plans to kill you.”

A silence passed.

“Let me guess,” he
said.
 
“You have his number, but
that won’t do us any good because he probably called from a TracFone.”

“Probably.”

“So, we’ll never know who
it was.”

“Unlikely.”

“What do I do?”

“We can do one of two
things.
 
I can call Sean, my
security guard, and have him pick you up.
 
He’s excellent.
 
You’ll be
safe with him.
 
Or I can call the
police and they’ll handle it.”

“Don’t call the
police.
 
It’ll hit the papers and
the studio will freak out.”
 
He
paused.
 
“Scratch that.
 
They’d actually love the extra exposure
it would give the film.
 
Send
Sean.
 
It’ll be more discreet that
way.”

“You’re staying with us
tonight.
 
Sean will take your agent
home, make certain she’s safe, and then he’ll bring you here.
 
When you arrive, I’ll ask him which of
his men we can hire to protect you going forward.”

“How long is ‘going
forward’?”

“I don’t know.”

“So, essentially we’re
prisoners?”

“For
awhile.
 
But we’ll find out who’s
behind this.
 
The police are working
on it, Sean’s team is working on it, Anastassios is working on it, and at least
to some degree, Mario’s family is working on it.
 
I’m calling Sean now.
 
Go to the back of the restaurant, and
keep away from the windows facing the street.
 
Sean will get you out safely.
 
I’ll see you soon.”
   

CHAPTER
FIFTY-SIX

It took Sean Scott thirty
minutes to get through traffic and arrive at the bistro, which was on
Forty-Fourth Street.
 

From the rear of the
restaurant, Michael watched him enter.
 
He’d met Scott before, when he was overseeing Leana during her stay at
the hospital.
 
And despite the fact that
he appeared to be an intimidating-looking beast, Michael knew better.
 
He was a former Marine, a professional;
he took his job seriously, but he was polite and approachable.

Meredith White, his
literary agent, also watched him come forward and move up the stairs to the
second level, where they were standing at the back.
 
“Why isn’t
he
in the movies?” she
asked.
 
“Good God.
 
Write a novel about him.
 
Erotica.
 
Right now it’s all the rage.”

“You’re one cool cookie,
Meredith,” Michael said.

She was a tall woman,
attractive, in her late fifties, and she had lived in Manhattan her entire
life.
 
“You’ve had death threats
before, Michael.
 
I’ve lived through
a few of them with you, though not this closely.
 
When you’re at your level, it comes with
the job.
 
We’ll get out of
here.
 
I mean, come on.
 
Look at him.
 
Who wouldn’t throw their trust into his
arms?”