She smiled sideways at him and saw, beneath his stony expression, a flicker of humor in his eyes.
“Then you might just hear from me. Make sure your gun is drawn. I’ll want theatrics.”
* * *
She found her father in his office. The door was open, but she knocked before entering. Sean stood to one side. “It’s seven,” she called into the room. “Are you ready for me?”
George looked up at her from where he was seated at his desk. Though he tried not to react when he saw the patch and the bruises, his gaze fixed on them before he asked her to sit in one of the chairs opposite him.
“I made coffee—”
“I’m fine. And frankly, I’m busy. Let’s talk about what you expect of me on the job. For starters, what would Celina be doing?”
“What Pepper is doing now. Overseeing the work. Monitoring the final touches of construction. Being available to answer questions. Going over concepts with the real estate firm we hired to sell the apartments. And everything in between.”
“Sounds like she has her hands full.”
“She has this project, the hotel and the new office complex I’m building on Madison. And today, I’m giving her another project, which I can’t talk about now because the deal won’t be sealed until later today. Hopefully at noon.”
Leana couldn’t still a spark of jealousy that Pepper already knew what it was. But she didn’t let it show. “How can Pepper be available to answer questions when she’s stretched so thin?”
“She can’t. That’s the problem.”
“I thought the problem also had to do with her attitude.”
“That seems to have straightened itself out.”
“So you’ve said and for reasons I’ve previously noted. But I’d be careful. That’s one girl who won’t change her spots.”
“You seem to have changed yours.”
“I had no choice. True, Harold left me a great deal of money. But it’s just me out there with no safety net. I’m running on pure instinct. Pepper has you behind her.”
“In all fairness, you do have the help of your investors.”
“Who are busy investing in other deals. They expect me to handle this on my own with weekly briefings, not hourly phone calls filled with panic and woe. I changed because I had no choice. Pepper changed this week because she’s scared shitless of me coming on site.”
“Pepper isn’t afraid of anything or anyone, Leana.”
“I wonder if that’s true. For instance, say she got shot at a week ago and almost lost her eyesight. Would that frighten her? Would the idea that she’s being targeted frighten her? Would she be able to get out of bed the first day her doctor gave her the green light to return to work? Or would she be cool throughout all of it, unafraid of what lurked around the next corner?”
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
Ètage, or Floor, the real estate firm to which her father had given an exclusive, six-month renewable option to sell the apartments, was among the city’s best.
It was a full-service boutique real estate firm that billed itself as being “driven by vision and innovation.” Though it was relatively new to the scene, it had quickly become one of Manhattan’s most powerful players, selling more than a billion dollars in real estate during its first five years in business, and doubling that amount over the next five years.
Despite being a firm that had been in business for only a decade, which was nothing when it came to Manhattan’s deeply entrenched and competitive real estate market, its success got noticed by the right people, such as Leana’s father, and it tended to create a buzz among those who mattered, such as Leana’s father.
What set Ètage apart from its competition was its owner and president, Hugo Morel, a bright, forty-year-old former model who studied interior design at the Pratt Institute and who came from one of France’s more influential families.
Leana knew of him—she had seen photographs of him and read flattering profiles in the Times, Vanity Fair, Architectural Digest, and Dwell—but she was unaware of the years when he was a Ford model and one of the key faces behind Dior Homme.
Her father told her that he was talented, driven and aggressive, but also charming. “His family’s connections and his good looks opened doors for him,” George said when she pressed him for more details that morning. “But it’s his skill at staging apartments and how he uniquely markets a building that nudges him close to genius. I’ve wanted to work with him for years, but I’ve been shut out until now. What Morel has done is smart. By keeping Ètage’s client list so small, he’s made his firm exclusive. His time is finite. He only can take on so many development properties at once. This will be his largest and most prestigious to date. I need you to look at his concepts and listen to how he plans to market the building. Come back to me with an informed opinion on whether he’s nailed it or whether he needs to rethink his game.”
Leana was confused. “Isn’t this all a little late in the process?” she said. “I’ve been marketing The Park for months. Shouldn’t this have been settled months ago?”
“I began marketing the building a year ago with another firm,” George said. “Morel was the first person I approached, but I was told that he didn’t have time. So, I went with my second choice, which came through with a good plan, though not the one I knew Morel could have provided. Then, six weeks ago, Morel called to ask if I was still interested in having him join the project. He said he was impressed by how the building was turning out. Of course I wanted him, but time was tight. I asked if he could complete concepts and come up with an effective marketing plan that would eclipse the current plan in such a short period of time. He said it wasn’t an issue. I took a leap, fired the other firm, and we gave Morel and his colleagues access to the building. Yesterday, he presented his ideas to Pepper. Today, he’ll present them to you.”
Now, Leana checked her watch as she walked around the cavernous lobby with Sean waiting for Hugo Morel. He was due to arrive in minutes. She wondered if her opinions would differ from Pepper’s, but decided it
didn’t matter. What she was charged with was finding the best fit for the apartments. If they were the same, so be it. She looked up at Sean. “So, what do you think?” she asked.
“Interesting that you ask. I was thinking, ‘How can I afford to live in this joint?’”
She smiled up at him. “I was thinking the same thing. My father might own it, but I can’t afford it. The details are pretty amazing, aren’t they? With all this glass, it’s as if you’re standing smack in the middle of the city, which, especially on Columbus, offers its own kind of constantly changing artwork. Look at the traffic outside. And the people on the sidewalks. And the way the light is changing. It’s as if we’re in an evolving landscape, and I know that was intentional. I can’t wait to go to the ninetieth floor and look at the Park from that viewpoint. You’ll be with me. At the very least, we can dream one of us owns it.”
“That’s a big dream, Miss Redman.”
She put her hand on his. “OK. Sean, it’s time for you to start calling me Leana. ‘Miss Redman’ seems like I’m an unapproachable shrew. You know, like Pepper? In fact, you can call Pepper ‘Miss Redman.’ She’ll expect it.”
“Leana it is.”
“I think our guest has arrived,” Leana said, looking across the lobby as Hugo Morel entered the building. “Holy shit. I’ve only got one good eye, but he’s better looking than I thought he’d be. What a stud.” She looked up at Sean. “Just so you know, I’m very happily married to a fantastic husband whom I adore. That was just an observation. A girl can look and appreciate.”
“Noted, Leana.”
“Thank you, Sean.”
“I wish I looked like that,” he said.
“Hell, I wish I looked like that.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Hugo Morel was fit, stood six-foot-two, had gleaming black hair that was raked away from his face in a way that emphasized his angular bone structure, and he wore a tight-fitting black suit that revealed every reason why Dior Homme once championed him. If he was forty, he didn’t look it. With smooth, unlined skin, Leana would have guessed him to be in his very early thirties.
Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) Page 20
