“What are you, Indiana Jones?”
“I was thinking more of a Jason Bourne.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“I just like to live.”
“Sounds to me like a good way to die.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s completely safe. Where’s your sense of adventure? Look—I’ll tell you what. I’ll go to this party with you tonight if you go bungee jumping with me tomorrow morning. There’s this place in Upstate New York that I go to with friends. Very peaceful. Just trees and birds and mosquitoes—not a building or a takeover in sight. And I can guarantee you that after the jump, you’ll never look at life the same way again. You game?”
Celina saw the challenge in his eyes and nodded. “I’m game,” she said. “But we do it blindfolded.”
Jack laughed. “Lady, you got yourself a deal.”
* * *
When Celina returned to her office, she found her father there, near her desk, arms folded. “I just got off the phone with Ted Frostman,” he said.
Celina remained in the doorway. They had waited days to hear back from him. “And?”
“We’ve got them,” he said. “Ted called a few minutes ago to say that Chase has run its due diligence, and that the right people are impressed. They want to back us.”
Celina felt as though a weight had been lifted from her. They were coming down to the wire. Within a week, the exact date of the Navy’s move into the Gulf would become public. If WestTex wasn’t theirs by then, the deal with Iran would collapse and they would have to call off everything. And lose billions in the process.
She went to her desk and sat. “Tell me what you know. Do we have a commitment from Chase?”
George started to pace, energy coming off him in waves. “Not yet. First, they want to discuss fees, our deal with management, the possibility of outside investors, etcetera.”
“How comfortable are they with Iran?”
“That’s the sticking point,” George said. “Big surprise there. Some feel the deal is too shaky. A few nearly backed out because of it.”
Celina understood that. Even she was concerned with the verbal agreement her father had secured with Iran. On more than one occasion, she wondered what would happen if, on the day WestTex became theirs, Iran decided to back out. We would lose everything, she thought.
“The good news is that they know I’d never risk Redman International if I didn’t feel this deal was going to fly. I’m meeting with Ted and a few select members of Chase today.”
“Want me to come along?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You’ve got enough work to keep you busy here.”
Celina looked at the files stacked on her desk, at the reports she had yet to read. That, she thought, is an understatement.
“I’ll tell you what happened later,” he said. “You’re going to the Fondaras party?”
“Jack’s coming with me.”
George lifted an eyebrow. “Really…?” he said.
“It’s not what you think. We’re just friends.”
“Of course.”
“I didn’t want to go alone.”
“Who would?”
A beat of silence passed. The moment stretched.
“But he is kind of cute, isn’t he?” Celina said.
There was a mischievous look in George’s eyes when he started toward the door. “Wait until I tell your mother,” he said.
* * *
Clouds were moving in from the west when Celina and Jack left the limousine and started up the ramp to the Crystal Princess. Jack was in black dinner jacket, Celina was in a simple white evening dress. A river-cooled breeze that smelled faintly of salt was in the air, as were the light sounds of an orchestra.
A group of reporters were gathered along each side of the red-carpeted ramp. Cameras flashing, microphones raised, the paparazzi called out to them as they passed.
“You’re looking great, Celina. Would you turn this way, please?”
“Word’s out you’re leaving for Iran soon. Where does the takeover of WestTex stand now?”
“Can you at least give us your reaction on what happened to Eric Parker.”
That got her. Celina squeezed Jack’s hand and put a smile on her face as he handed an elegantly uniformed butler the invitation for Celina Redman and Guest.
As they stood there, she became aware of people looking at her. She heard Eric Parker’s name mentioned more than once and though she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t. She was beginning to wonder if coming to this party was a good idea when the butler led them to the reception line and called out their names.
Anastassios Fondaras, the Greek shipping tycoon and their billionaire host, held out his arms to Celina as she and Jack approached.
“Celina,” he said, enveloping her in a hug. “It’s been what? A year? Two?”
A camera flashed as Fondaras kissed Celina’s cheek.
“Two, I think,” Celina said. She pulled back so they stood at arm’s length. “And look at you,” she said. “I’ve never seen you so tan. Retirement is suiting you, Anastassios.”
“Retirement?” Anastassios Fondaras said with a shrug. “Retirement is a term I use so I can sleep an extra hour each morning without feeling guilty. You don’t think I’d give up control of my ships just because I’ve passed the golden age of sixty-five, do you?”
“I hope not.”
“Your parents are here somewhere,” Fondaras said with a glance around the deck. “Haven’t seen either of them in years. They looked wonderful. Your mother looks better each time I see her.” When his gaze settled back on Celina, something in his eyes darkened. “Rumor has it that your father’s planning a move into the shipping business.”
It’s more than just a rumor, Celina thought. And you know it. She nodded, and hated that she was made to feel somewhat guarded. Although Fondaras was a friend, he was cunning when it came to discussing business and she never trusted him because of it.
“Tough business,” Anastassios said. “Lots of competition out there—including me.”
“I think there’s enough trade to go around, don’t you?”
“I’ve never thought there was enough trade to go around.”
“It’s a big world, Anastassios.”
“Not with me on it, it isn’t.”
“I can promise WestTex won’t infringe on your business.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. How could you possibly promise me that?”
“You’ll see soon.”
“I’d rather see now.”
“That’s impossible.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Celina kept her gaze on his.
“I don’t like playing games, Celina.”
“It’s business, Anastassios. We’re all in it to win. It’s why I respect you so much. But my father and I never play games.”
“Except for those you win?”
She didn’t reply.
Anastassios shrugged, as if the conversation now meant little to him. Still, a hard look remained in his eyes. “I just hope no one gets their toes stepped on,” he said.
So do I, Celina thought and turned to Jack. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Where are my manners? This is my friend, Jack Douglas.”
Fondaras nodded at Jack. “I’ve read about you,” he said. “You’re the man who sold $500 million worth of bonds a few weeks ago, right? Became a Big Swinging Dick at Morgan? I was thinking of hiring you myself, but I see that Redman beat me to it.” He turned to Celina. “Let’s hope that doesn’t become a habit. Have either of you met my good friend Lady Alexa Ionesco from Spain?”
Lady Alexa Ionesco from Spain was a tall reed of a woman with dark hair pulled back into a chignon, black eyes that reflected a curious intelligence, and lips that were oddly full, likely from a few too many injections. Celina thought back to her conversation with Jack and was willing to bet that her title—unlike the ropes of diamonds that blazed at her neck, wrists and ears—was
fake.
As they made small talk, she wondered if this woman, who was dressed in a stunning red dress and who was at least thirty years Fondaras’ junior, stood a chance with him. Divorced twice, widowed once, Anastassios Fondaras was one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. And he knew it.
“I think you’re darling,” Lady Ionesco said. The way she said “darling” made it sound as if she’d taken the word and stretched it like a rubber band.
Celina took her hand. The woman warbled a bit. And I think you need to lay off the booze. “You’re very kind.”
“Have you ever been to Turkey in the fall?”
“I think only in springtime.”
“Fall is best. Fall is a must. Fall is the new spring. You must come. Promise me, you’ll come. I own a little cottage there—fifty rooms along the ocean, fifteen servants, three pools, a garden to die for—but we make do.” She glanced at Jack. “There’s plenty of room.”
“Of course,” Celina said. “Let’s have lunch sometime and look at our calendars.”
“Mine’s impossible,” Lady Ionesco sighed. “My assistant put everything on one of those little iPad things for me, thinking it would organize a life that can’t be organized. He still doesn’t know who I am. He still doesn’t get that there is no order to the world in which we move. He thinks my life can be squeezed—squeezed!—into something shiny and slick. And now, naturally, the situation is worse than ever.” She tossed her head back and cackled out two words. “Technology! God!”
In an effort to steady her, Anastassios put a hand on her back.
“Anastassios,” she said, her head rolling toward the ceiling. “That chandelier. I never noticed it before. It’s sublime.”
“It’s Lalique.”
“It’s terrifique!”
“You about ready for a drink?” Jack asked Celina. He looked at Lady Ionesco. “We just came from the city and I have to say, a drink is in order.”
“Try the champagne,” Lady Ionesco said. “It’s divine. And then try a Manhattan. God, I love a Manhattan. So ‘20s. So now. So forever.”
Celina gave Anastassios a kiss on each cheek, and then did the same with Lady Ionesco, who said too loudly, “Turkey! Fall! Lunch!”
As they stepped away from them and moved into the crowd, Celina said, “You handled yourself well.”
“I barely said a word. You, however, were impressive. That woman is a mess and that man is a clever son of a bitch.”
“He’s a lot more than that,” Celina said as they followed a wave of instant celebrities and old money to an aft bar that was teeming with people anxious to forget the pressures of the world in which they lived.
While Jack ordered drinks, Celina glanced around the polished deck.
The first person her gaze settled upon was the last person she expected to see here—Louis Ryan. Celina remembered that Ryan, who was ousted by society because of his refusal to donate money to charity, once was quoted by a newspaper as saying: “My mother used to tell me that charity begins at home. If that’s the case, I own eight homes, and that’s where my money goes.”
She watched Ryan and wondered why he received an invitation to this event, where money almost certainly would be expected from him to help combat that forgotten disease, HIV, which was starting to become hot again among the charity set. Standing alone near the twenty-piece orchestra, he was sipping a glass of champagne and watching the guests giggle and hug and push.
Celina wondered if her father had seen him yet.
She turned to look for George and came face to face with Diana Crane, who was standing near Celina, her back to the bar, a glass of bubbling champagne in her hand. There was a silence while the two women stood looking at one another. Appraising one another. Then Diana stepped forward. “Hello, Celina.”
Celina nodded. She noticed the fading bruise around Diana’s eye, the carefully concealed scrape on her forehead and couldn’t help wondering what she and Eric had gone through the night they were attacked.
“That’s a beautiful necklace you’re wearing,” she said.
Diana brought a hand to her neck and her fingers tip-toed over hundreds of carats of diamonds and rubies and sapphires. “Thank you,” she said. “Eric gave it to me.”
It was a casual remark, not a slam, and Celina felt a kind of sadness for Diana, not anger. She wondered how such an intelligent woman could fall for someone like Eric. And then she checked herself. Why not? I did.
She decided to at least deliver a warning.
“I remember when Eric bought it for me,” Celina said. “We were in Milan, vacationing, and I was struck by the size and the clarity of the stones. You do realize that the stones are flawless, don’t you?”
It was a moment before Diana could speak. Her fingers pressed against the necklace, the stones cutting into her flesh. “Eric bought this for you?” she said.
Celina nodded. “Three years ago, I think. I sent it—and others like it—back to him when we broke up. I think it looks better on you, though. The sapphires bring out the blue in your eyes.”
Diana Crane walked away. Celina felt a twinge of guilt as she watched her leave. “I had to do it,” she said aloud. “He gave her that necklace and made her think he bought it for her. What a bastard.”
“Who’s a bastard?”
Celina put her hand on Jack’s arm. She wondered how long he had been standing behind her, wondered just how much he’d heard. “It’s not important,” she said, taking the glass of champagne he offered. She sipped—and noted it wasn’t champagne. It was beer. “You really are too much,” she said.
“Would you rather have drunk from the can?”
“We have in the past. Why stop now?”
“Good point,” Jack said. “Next time, I’ll ask for a six-pack.”
“You do that,” Celina said and, acting on impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You know what I’d like to do right now?”
Jack shook his head.
“I’d like to dance with you before this floating palace casts off. What do you say?”
They danced slowly at first, Jack’s hand gently embracing hers, Celina’s cheek touching his, each aware of the other’s body. Couples Anastassios had flown in from around the world were twirling around them, some laughing, others talking—all enjoying the orchestra.
Celina was aware of people looking at them from the surrounding tables, but she made an effort to ignore them. She was happy to be here with Jack. She was glad to have him in her life.
“Isn’t that Harold Baines over there?” Jack asked.
Celina followed Jack’s gaze with her own. Standing with his back to the railing, drink in hand, was Harold. He was talking with Louis Ryan. She nodded, surprised to see the two men together.
“I wonder what he and Ryan are arguing about?”
“What makes you think they’re arguing?”
“Harold raised his voice a moment ago,” Jack said. “I heard him. And look at Ryan’s face—it’s as red as that woman’s dress. They’re arguing.”
The music became softer, slower and Jack held her closer. Celina looked away from Harold at the same moment Harold stormed away from Louis Ryan. She brushed her cheek against Jack’s, smelled his cologne and felt the warmth of his body through the thin material of her dress. She wondered if he was as aware of these things as she was. She wondered if she was on his mind as often as he was on hers. She wondered if he was as attracted to her as she was to him.
Gradually, she began to lose herself in him and the dance. He was speaking to her. His voice was a low rumble above the lapping of the waves and the faint roar of the engines as the ship cast off. She heard him mention something about the yacht and the guests, about the thickening storm clouds and the threat of rain, but she was unable to follow what he was saying. As far as Celina was concerned, they could be anywhere in the world.
“Am I boring you?” Jack asked after awhile. They had been dancing for nearly twenty minutes. “Is something
wrong?”
Celina pulled back and knew he had asked her a question she hadn’t heard. She felt embarrassed. “No. I—my mind was elsewhere. Sorry.”
Jack was no fool. He leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. Celina kissed him back, only dimly aware of the murmurs rippling through the crowd. There was no question what would happen next.
“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand.
They found a staircase that went below ship and followed a narrow passage to its end. As they turned onto a wider passage and began looking for one of the staterooms, Celina thought that she never wanted a man more than she wanted this man.
It came to her then that this would be only the second man she had ever been with, and the thought exhilarated her. She sensed that it would be different with Jack than it had been with Eric. She sensed it would be better.
They stopped in front of a door that was at the end of the hall. Jack opened it and stepped inside. Across the room, seated naked at the foot of a large four-poster bed, was Harold Baines, a rubber tube tied to the sunken flesh of his upper left arm, the needle of a syringe buried in the fold.
Seated behind him was a young man, his legs wrapped around the shadow of Harold’s thinning waist, his waiter’s uniform cast carelessly to the floor.
There was a moment when Harold’s eyes met Jack’s, when shock registered on each man’s face, then Jack quickly closed the door before Celina could see.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said.
She went for the door. Jack reached for her hand and pulled her toward him. He kissed her on the forehead, then on the mouth. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Anyone could walk in on us here and we’d regret it. Here isn’t the place. Let’s wait.”
* * *
“This must be some sort of joke,” Elizabeth Redman said in a whisper to her husband. “He can’t be seated here. He can’t be seated at our table. Anastassios knows better. He never would have allowed it.”
“Don’t be so sure,” George said, looking away from Louis Ryan, who was seated opposite them. “Anastassios knows I’m trying to buy WestTex. He knows I’m going to be competition. This is exactly something he would do.”
The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set Page 21
