CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Pepper Redman had heard her name mentioned so many times and so favorably in the past two hours by so many people who mattered to her—people she had read about long before she entered Wharton—that she felt as if she was moving through a never ending high.
Their approval of her work was the realization of a dream.
“So, you’re Pepper,” one older woman said. “I’ve heard such good things about you. You’ve done a wonderful job tonight. Did you select the orchestra? They’re divoon. We must have lunch so you can give me their information and so we can get to know one another.”
“Pepper Redman,” one businessman said. “Your uncle has been singing your praises for the past few months, and now I see why. Beautiful job tonight. You know, just this week, my wife and I bought an apartment at your uncle’s building on Columbus? Your work with Hugo Morel is what sold us on buying it, not to mention the views. The staging of that apartment was impeccable. Bar none.”
She thanked the man, refusing to say that it was Leana who had staged the apartment with Morel.
Fuck her.
“You must be Pepper. I’ve seen your face in the society pages and in the business pages. I’m so happy that your uncle has found someone in the family as formidable as Celina.”
And on and on it went. With Parker at her side, who was among the most handsome and dapper of the men at the party, she was set adrift. How could this be her life? This went beyond any dreams she had as a child. Back then, she was just plain fat Penelope from Arkansas, swatting bugs and sulking on the back porch of her parents’ dilapidated home. Even then, as a young girl, she knew that living there was unnecessary because her Uncle George repeatedly offered to bring her father into his thriving business.
But he never went. His pride kept them in poverty in Arkansas, and the family suffered as a result. She’d never forgive him for it, especially since she knew then that all of this could have been hers.
She looked around the glittering room, felt Parker’s hand placed firmly against her back, and warmed to it. He was the perfect gentleman—an intelligent companion who assimilated with the sort of ease that surprised even her. He came off well schooled and interesting, even though he didn’t have a job, which she’d fix within the week. Parker was a keeper. This night was something that could crush many people, yet he seemed to be thriving while still allowing her to shine.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked.
“I’m having the time of my life. Are you having fun?”
“I always have fun when I’m with you.”
“Parker, sometimes I think you’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”
“I’ve been there for awhile, Pepper. It took you longer. But you’re here, and that makes me happy.” He stopped for a moment and looked up at the towering mezzanine. He looked at its shops and restaurants, and at the wide band of water that flowed in a seamless stream from the ceiling down into a pool of light that glowed and sparkled. “Why didn’t you open up the mezzanine tonight? People could have looked around.”
“Security wouldn’t let us. We need to be down here. They said it would be safer that way.”
“How safe do you feel right now?”
“I actually feel good.”
He held her closer and lowered his lips to her ear, which made her shiver, especially when the stubble on his chin brushed her lobe. “Want to feel great?”
“Parker....”
“Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll make this a night you’ll never forget. Is there a way up there that’s private? You know, so no one would notice if we left for a few minutes?”
“I don’t—”
“I want to fuck you, Pepper,” he whispered in her ear before tasting it discreetly with his tongue. “I can’t wait until later tonight. I’ve been walking around with a hard-on for the past hour. Ever since you reached out and grabbed my hand. You might as well have grabbed my cock. You know how big it is. You think it’s easy for me to hide it? It isn’t. Come on. Just fifteen minutes. This party has hours left to it. I promise I won’t be too rough. No one will know. I thought you took risks?”
She turned to him. “Is that a dare?”
“You tell me.”
“You know I take risks.”
“I think you’re holding back now.”
“You think you’re clever, but you’re not, Parker.”
“I think I just called you out.”
They held each other’s gaze for a moment and then she said, “You want to spank my ass, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“You want to make it sting.”
“I want to make it so you can barely walk, but I’ll save that for later.”
“You can’t mess up my hair or makeup, Parker. You can’t do that. OK? I need to look as if nothing happened.”
“You’ll feel as if something happened, but you’ll probably look even better, if that’s possible. You’ll have a glow that has nothing to do with your hair and makeup.”
She looked around the lobby for her uncle, but didn’t see him anywhere in the crowd, so she squeezed Parker’s hand harder. “Just behind that corner are service elevators. You can’t see them from here because the trees and the waterfall are in the way. Better yet, they’re on the other side of that wall, which is perfect because they don’t face the lobby, so it’s unlikely that anyone will see us go inside. We could use those, if you want.”
“I want.”
He took the lead, which she loved about him when it came to sex. He wasn’t intimidated by her, her name, or her money. When they had sex, he was in control. They cut through the crowds of laughing, smiling, pulled-to-the-hilt faces, and she felt her heart quicken when they rounded a corner where there were significantly less people. The party was happening on the other side of the waterfall, not here. She dropped his hand for a moment, opened her clutch, and pulled out a set of keys.
“The elevators are locked,” she said. “But I can unlock them. We’ll need to be quick. If my uncle finds out, or if security finds out—”
“What will happen?”
She smiled at him. “Probably nothing. I can sweet talk my way out of anything. Plus, tonight’s a hit, so I have that on my side. Here. I think it’s this key.” She stuck it in the lock, turned it, and the elevator door slid open.
“Go!” he said.
Giggling, she stepped inside, turned around and pressed her back against the wall. Already, she was moist and ready for him. On this side of the elevator door, no one was in sight, so she felt less tense. She pulled him in by his jacket and he kissed her hard on the mouth. His tongue darted inside, then quickly pulled out, teasing her. His hands smoothed up her body, he cupped her breasts, and then he tweaked her nipples hard. She let out a low moan and arched back her head. She was losing herself in him, and they hadn’t even begun. I’m going to marry him, she thought. I can feel it. I’m going to marry this man. This is whom I’ve always dreamed of.
He pressed himself against her and she felt the length of his cock against her thigh as she tried to hit a button to close the door. But she couldn’t move. He was holding her too tightly, nuzzling his mouth into her neck.
Until his own neck was broken.
Pepper heard the sound of the bones snapping, she saw Parker’s eyes roll back in his head as he fell in a heap at her feet, and then she saw a man in a tuxedo standing where Parker had stood. She didn’t recognize him. Before she could scream, he slapped his hand over her mouth. He pushed a button for the seventh floor, and then, as the doors closed, he said, “Don’t scream. Don’t say a word. Do as I say, and you might come out of this alive.”
Terrified, she looked at him and then looked down at Parker, who was unmoving. His eyes were open but unseeing. He was dead. Dead. She wanted to sob in outrage and despair. This man killed him. He took Parker away from her.
Why?
“You want to know who I am? You’ll find out soon enough,
Penelope. What you did was a stupid thing. You fucked with the wrong person. Now, I’m going to hear your side of it, then I’m going to make a call, and then, depending on what’s said, we’ll decide whether you die tonight, perhaps right in front of all of these beautiful people. Can you imagine? You think you made an entrance earlier? If I’m given the go-ahead, you’ll leave this world with an exit no one will forget.”
* * *
In the lobby, Spocatti watched George Redman work the crowd, he watched him being greeted and feted, congratulated and hugged. When he couldn’t stomach a moment more of the revelry, he checked his watch. The party had been going strong for more than two hours, but it would end sooner than later, so he needed to act.
He didn’t need Epifania Zapopa, so he got rid of her. He sent her on a meaningless mission to find a blond man in his forties, who had a deep scar running down the length of his left cheek, and who was wearing an elaborate family crest on his jacket.
“I can’t seem to find him,” he said to her. “It’s too crowded in here.”
“No problem, Papi. Epifania help.”
And she was gone.
He pulled out his cell and turned it on. An image appeared that featured Google news reports of Leana Redman’s death. Earlier, Carmen created it for him in Photoshop and it looked like the real thing, with fake links to news stories, and photographs of Leana Redman beside those links. On her own phone, Carmen had the same thing, only with news reports that George Redman recently had been murdered.
The image was scrollable and expandable. None of the links worked, but that didn’t matter. The idea was to show the page to Redman and his security team, quietly distract them with what he’d just come upon on his cell, get them away from this circus, and then do what Spocatti did best.
Murder them all.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
When Leana saw Marty Spellman in the crowd, she noticed that he wasn’t alone. He was with a woman she recognized on sight—Jennifer Barnes from Channel One.
That caused her to pause.
Was he married to her? Dating her? Just friends with her? Leana didn’t know, but then she knew very little about Marty. They’d known each other for only a short, intense period of time. Obviously, she knew he once was married to Gloria, but that’s all she knew about his personal life.
What she admired about Barnes was her reporting. Jennifer always had been fair to her family. This morning, when she reported on what happened last night with the De Cicco family’s threat against Leana, Jennifer stuck to the facts without giving herself over to the sensational aspects of what happened. That’s what journalism used to be, but no longer was for many in the business. In passing, Jennifer mentioned that Leana was married to Mario De Cicco. Any good journalist would have reported that, but she didn’t do it in a way that appeared to implicate that Mario had any part in this. Other reporters hadn’t been so objective. Some wondered aloud about his “possible involvement,” which they were “investigating,” and which pissed her off to no end.
Mario just let it slide.
With Sean trailing her, she walked over to them, wended through the crowd, and came up behind Marty.
“You dress up well,” she said.
He turned with a smile. “I could say the same for you. So could Jennifer, who wants that dress.” He turned to Jennifer and made introductions. “Leana, this is my wife, Jennifer.”
“Your wife?” Leana said. “Now I have even more respect for you, Marty. Jennifer is the best.”
She shook hands with her.
“I’m so glad you could come,” Leana said. “And thank you for your report this morning. Mario and I saw it. You were terrific.”
“You’re very kind,” Jennifer said. “Best to stick to the facts.”
“But so many others don’t. They just assume that they know them, and then they speculate.”
“Not my style.” She motioned toward Leana’s dress. “Not to go all red carpet on you, but I have to ask. Who are you wearing?”
“Let’s just say I got very lucky tonight.”
“That makes it sound like you’re wearing vintage to me.”
“Vintage Dior.”
She sighed. “So, I guess I won’t be getting one.”
“I’m surprised they let me borrow one. This goes back tomorrow morning. If there’s so much as a stain on it, I’m screwed.”
“If I were you, I’d sleep in it.”
“I think wrinkles also are a violation. Are you having a good time?”
“I can’t believe what you’ve done here. It’s so pretty, Leana. And I love the orchestra, not to mention the food.”
“I just look at the food, and my Spanx gets tighter. Do you mind if I borrow your husband for a moment?”
“Of course not. It was nice meeting you.”
Leana stepped to the side with Marty. “Have you noticed anything?”
“Nothing, and I’ve been watching. How about you?”
“Same here—nothing. Everything seems to be going well.” She shrugged. “Maybe Sean did it. Maybe we will be safe tonight.”
“Keep your guard up, Leana,” Marty warned. “The night isn’t over yet.”
* * *
When she waved goodbye to Marty and Jennifer, she caught a glimpse of her brother, and walked over to him.
He had come alone, but you wouldn’t know it to see him. With his new movie opening in days, he was surrounded by people, mostly friends by the looks of it because Leana recognized most of them from the screen.
She felt a little intimidated when she stepped into their circle, especially since it included a legendary actress, who earlier that year won her third Academy Award for Best Actress. It was daunting to be in her presence, but this was her brother’s life, so she had no choice but to just go with it.
She nudged his arm, and watched a dozen famous faces turn to her. “Hi,” she said. He dipped down so he could hear her. “Having fun?”
“First of all, this place is a knockout.”
“I’ve been wearing my modest face and telling people how pleased I am with it. You can’t get too excited with the Park Avenue crowd—you get it. But, Michael, it’s pretty great, isn’t it? I’m so proud of it.”
“You have every reason to be proud of it, Leana.”
“We’ll see what the press says about it.”
“Don’t worry about them. You restored a gem, and it’s gorgeous. We’ve all been talking about it. Let me introduce you to my friends,” he said. And the introductions began, with Leana increasingly feeling as if she was out of her element despite how kind they were to her. She wasn’t normally star struck, but she was now. She couldn’t believe whom he was introducing her to. They’re just people, she thought to herself. They’re just like Michael. Think of it that way.
When she did, she became less shy.
After engaging with the group for a few minutes, she bowed out of it and pulled Michael aside. “Do you feel safe?”
He nodded at the men along the periphery. “As you can see, I’m covered.”
“Have you seen anything unusual?”
“I haven’t. But Sean’s team seems on top of it. I’ve been watching them. They’re crawling all over this place. He’s very good.”
“Thanks for all that you’ve done.” Her eyes skirted toward the woman who had won the three Academy Awards. “I have to ask. How did you ever get her to come?”
“She lives in Manhattan. When I was just starting out, we did a movie together. I called to invite her, and she said that she’d be happy to come.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek, someone snapped a photograph when she did so, but she didn’t care. She loved her brother and she was happy to have him back in her life. They were becoming more than family. They were becoming great friends.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, wanting to keep the moment light. “I have my cell in my clutch. Call me if you need me. You know, like if any hot woman comes on to you and you want your kid
sister to grill her about her intentions. Or, better yet, if you’d actually like to have a dance with your sister. Anastassios didn’t pay for that orchestra for nothing. And your sister would rather like that.”
“Where is Anastassios?” Michael asked.
“I talked with him about an hour ago. He’s circling. But you know how he is—he knows everyone. He loves parties because, for him, it means cutting another deal. Just try finding him in this joint.” She tapped her clutch. “That’s why I’ll be calling you when I’m ready to be twirled around the dance floor. We’ll meet under the Lalique.”
“Under the what?”
She pointed up at the massive Lalique chandelier, which was one of the hotel lobby’s grand nods to the past. “Under that,” she said. “Now have fun with your friends. I’m off to canoodle with Mario. A good friend of his is here. I told him I’d be fine for a few minutes so they could talk, but now I should get back.”
“Let him wait. Let’s have that dance now. This place is mobbed. We might not see each other again.”
“You sure you can handle my moves on the floor?”
“The question is whether you can handle mine.”
She waited for him to excuse himself from his group before she took him by the hand and walked with him through the crowd. “I’m so going to kick your ass. When I was a kid, Mom taught me how to waltz. She took dance lessons when she was young. Ballet.”
“Really,” Michael said. “That’s intimidating. Here’s something else that’s intimidating. Six years ago, I was in a movie in which I needed to waltz properly. I was trained.”
“Who was the director?”
“Baz Luhrmann.”
Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) Page 39
