Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) (20 page)

“It’s just coffee,” Leana
said, checking her watch.
 
She still
had fifteen minutes before Fondaras arrived.
 
“Give me ten.
 
And also know this.
 
Each of you also will receive a vacation
once this hotel wraps, which can’t happen soon enough for all of us.
 
Wherever you want to go with your
families, just let me know.
 
I
appreciate all that you’ve done.”

*
 
*
 
*

When she returned with
the coffees, Fondaras and the security crew had yet to arrive, which was
good.
 
She didn’t want to keep Anastassios,
of all people, waiting.
 
She handed
over the coffees to the men, who thanked her for them.
 

“You’re real nice, Miss
Redman.”

“Call me Leana.”

“Not many would do what
you just did.”

“Why not?
 
You’re the ones standing out in this
heat, not me.
 
All I did was lose a
few calories while jogging over to get coffee.
 
So, my ass thanks you for that.”

They laughed.

“All right,” she said,
wanting to turn the subject away from her. “How’s the day been?”

“Some press people showed
up this morning, but I think they were disappointed that the tarp was down and
they left.
 
They tried to question
us, but we were asked to say nothing, so we offered a ‘no comment.’”

His eyes lit up when he
said it.
 

“How’d that feel?” she
asked.

“Fuckin’ awesome.”
 
His caught himself.
 
“Sorry, Miss Redman.”

She put her hand on his
forearm.
 
“It’s Leana.
 
And I can say
fuck
with the best
of them.
 
Don’t worry about it.
 
You read the tarp, didn’t you?
 
Or at least you know what it said.
 
There isn’t much I haven’t heard or said
or been called in this city.”

“We’re sorry about the
tarp, Miss—uh—Leana.”

“I’ve been told that with
all the publicity the tarp received, it’s going to sell the hotel.
 
But as what?
 
A brothel?”

“What’s inside ain’t no
brothel,” the older man said.

“And how would you know
that?” Leana asked him with a smile.

Each man sipped his
coffee.

*
 
*
 
*

When Anastassios arrived,
on time, in one of three stretch black limousines that pulled alongside the
hotel, Leana excused herself from the men and waited streetside for the doors
to open.
 
She didn’t know which car
Fondaras was in, so she stood near the middle and waited for the doors to swing
open.

He alighted from the
first car and, without acknowledging her, looked up at the building,
specifically at the tarp.
 
Then, he
took in the front of the building, craning his neck high and shielding his eyes
from the sun with his right hand so he could see all of it.
 
Satisfied, he turned to her with clear
approval on his face.

He was in a dark blue
business suit and looked immaculate as he came toward her.
 
Even in the bright light of
mid-afternoon, his dyed brown hair was so well done, it nevertheless looked
thick and natural.
 
He wore no tie
and his collar, open at the throat, revealed a deep tan and unusually
youthful-looking skin.
 
She wasn’t
exactly sure how old he was, but she had known him since she was a toddler,
when he and her father first entered into business together before their
fortunes multiplied and they became business rivals.

He reached out his hands
to her and grasped them as other car doors opened and several men stepped out.

“How are you?” he
asked.
 
“Quite a day, I imagine.”

“In ways that you
probably can’t imagine.”

He looked at her with
concern.
 
“Meaning...?”

“Forget the television
and newspaper reports about what was scrawled on the hotel last night.
 
What bothers me more is that once again,
my father screwed me today.
 
You’d
think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not.
 
I won’t burden you with it, Anastassios,
because what’s done is done, and I know you’re here for other reasons.
 
But let’s just say I’ve had better
days.”

“I’m sorry about your
father,” he said.
 
He paused for a
moment and studied her before he spoke.
 
“I think it’s time I give you a piece of advice.”

“All right.”

“You need to move on.
 
Whatever your father does or says can’t
get in your way any longer.
 
You
can’t allow it to stop you.
 
You
can’t let it fill you with self-doubt.
 
Everything is about to change for you with this hotel, Leana.
 
Harold gave you a golden
opportunity.
 
God bless him for
that.
 
If you’d come to me, I would
have financed the hotel for you.
 
That’s how much I believe in you.
 
You and Celina are different people, but that doesn’t mean that you
don’t have the means to be as successful and as savvy as she was.
 
You need to stop second-guessing why
George treats you the way he does.
 
He is who he is and you can’t change it or him.
 
You need to come to terms with that now
and let it inform your life as you move forward.
 
Achieving success means focus, hard work
and a measure of luck, not wallowing in the past and wishing for things that
never will come your way, such as your father’s acceptance of you.
 
It’s not going to happen.
 
So, move on, or you’ll never get out of
your own way.”
 
He pointed at the
hotel.
 
“And you’ll never make that
a success.
 
Am I clear?”

He’d never spoken to her
so directly before, but she knew he was right and nodded.
 
“You’re clear.”

“From this day forward, I
don’t want to hear another word about your father and how he mistreats
you.
 
It’s boring.
 
It’s a waste of time.
 
Is that understood?”

“It is.”

“I’m only saying this for
your own good.”

“I know you are.
 
Harold used to say the same thing to
me.”

“So, why are we having
this conversation now?”

She shrugged at him.
 
If she mentioned again how much her
father had hurt her in her life, he’d probably leave.
 
But she knew he was right just as she
knew Harold was right.
 
She had to
leave her father behind and realize that she’d never have the relationship
she’d always wanted with him.
 

So be it.

She turned to look up at
the hotel.
 
That was her
future.
 
Mario was her future.
 
Having a family with him was her future.
 
What happened today with her father and
Pepper was carefully designed to take her down a notch by preying on her
insecurities.
 
They were coming
after her with their own hotel.
 
They planned to open it on the same date.
 
And knowing her father as well as she
did, she knew he’d come after her with everything he had.
 
What she’d seen from Pepper suggested
the same thing.

She leaned forward and
kissed Anastassios on the cheek.
 
Always the gentleman, he kissed her back and she smelled the faintest
scent of his cologne, which is just how it should be—not overpowering,
but intimate.

“Do you want to see my
hotel?” she asked.

“Is that even a question?”
he said.

*
 
*
 
*

Before they went inside,
he introduced her to the security team, which was led by a former Marine, Sean
Scott.
 

He was older than she,
probably in his forties.
 
Though he
was in such great physical shape, it was difficult for her to tell exactly how
old.
 
He was a mountain of a man and
all business, but she took an immediate liking to him not only because he
presented well, but also because he came armed with a plan.
 
He and his team would be fixtures at the
hotel from now until opening night, and likely several weeks beyond.

“What happened with the
tarp won’t happen under our watch,” Scott said.
 
“You and your construction crew will be
safe, as will your hotel.
 
We have
ears everywhere, Miss Redman, and we’ll be listening.
 
Our intelligence is bar none.”

“I can’t thank you
enough.”

“No harm will come to
you, Miss Redman,” he said.

*
 
*
 
*

Inside the hotel, the
security team was introduced to the construction crew and then they dispersed
to check out the hotel on their own.
 
They weren’t here for aesthetics.
 
They were here to consider ways in which the hotel was vulnerable to a
possible attack and how to prevent one from happening.

“They’re not taking what
was written on that tarp lightly,” Leana said.

“Why should they?” Anastassios
said.
 
“It wasn’t name-calling.
 
It was a threat.
 
You’ve been targeted before.
 
It’s clear to all of us that you’re
being targeted again.”

“By whom?”

“Your father has a lot of
enemies, Leana.”

“That’s an
understatement.”

“Then consider this.
 
Sean, his team and I talked before
coming here.
 
We all agree.
 
Someone wants to finish what Louis Ryan
started.
 
First it was Celina.
 
Ryan got her.
 
Now, it’s different.
 
Now, it’s you.
 
And, after Holt and Stout, obviously
others.
 
Probably even your father.”

*
 
*
 
*

Though chilled by what he
said, Leana went through the motions of showing Anastassios the hotel.
 
She showed him the massive lobby, with
its black-and-white tiled marble floor, freshly polished and gleaming as if it
was newly installed and not the original that it was.
 
She pointed up at the towering ceiling,
where the massive Lalique chandelier hung in all of its glinting
decadence.
 
It was twelve feet at its
widest point and eighteen feet tall.

“It was custom-made for
the hotel by René Lalique himself back in the twenties,” she said.
 
“You collect Lalique, don’t you?”

“I do,” he said, admiring
the chandelier.
 
“And in case you
don’t know, that chandelier could probably pay off a sizable chunk of your
mortgage.”

She took him to the
hotel’s once-famous restaurant, On the Park.
 
Then she showed him several rooms,
including the Presidential Suite, in which, she told him, Presidents Woodrow
Wilson, Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover and Franklin D.
Roosevelt stayed when the hotel was in its prime.
 

She told him it was
important for her to restore the hotel to what it once was, not to modernize it
into something it wasn’t intended to be.
 
She talked and talked, she heard his approval and she saw him smile. She
pointed out this detail and that detail, but she couldn’t shake what he had
said to her earlier.

Now,
it’s you.
 
Probably even your
father.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

When Anastassios left, he
told Leana that his stay in New York would span the next several weeks.
 

“I might need to leave
for Europe for a few days, but I have plenty of business to tend to here this
month.
 
I plan to be here for the
opening of the hotel.
 
It’s on my
schedule.
 
If you need me at any
point, call me.
 
I’m here for
you.
 
I’ll call you if I learn
anything about the murders of Florence Holt and Charles Stout.
 
Somehow, they’re related to what’s
happening to you now.
 
We know
this.
 
They sat on Ryan’s
board.
 
There has to be a link,
particularly after the woman who likely killed Holt interviewed you.
 
Sean has access to intelligence many of
us don’t have.
 
You’ll be in good
hands with him.
 
Do what he
says.
 
If you feel you need protection,
use him or a member of his team.
 
And use your husband’s family, for God’s sake.
 
Use everyone who can help you.
 
But if there’s anything I want you to
take away from today, it’s that you need to forget about your father and push
forward with your hotel.
 
Focus on
your
career, not on your father’s ridiculous dismissals of you.
 
I’ve now seen the hotel.
 
It’s fabulous, Leana, and your success
is in hand if you don’t screw it up.”