The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (10 page)

“What was that all about?” Leana asked.

Eric shook his head.
 
“You wouldn’t understand.”
 
He tipped back his drink and studied Leana over the rim.
 
She looked beautiful tonight.
 
“What do you think of the party?” he asked.

She couldn’t have heard him right.
 
“What do I think of the party?” she repeated.
 
“Eric, what do you think I think of the party?”
 
She leaned beside him against the bar. From where she stood, she had a clear view of Celina, who was standing with her back to the waterfall, listening to Elizabeth, her red dress among the room’s stars.

“I’m sorry,” Eric said.

“Forget it.”
 
She motioned towards Jack Douglas.
 
“Who’s he?”

“Damned if I know.”

“I just saw them leaving the family elevator together.”

“So did everyone else.
 
Think they’re seeing each other?”

“No idea.”

“Now probably isn’t the best time for me to find out, is it?”

“If by that you mean going over there and asking Celina in front of Mom and Dad, then, no, I don’t think now is the best time to find out.
 
But I would ask her.
 
You have every right to know.”

“Why haven’t you two ever gotten along?”

Before she could respond, lights in the lobby dimmed, the room fell silent and her father’s voice rose above the crowd.
 
Leana skimmed the sea of heads for him and found him standing in the center of the dance floor with Celina at his side.

“Tonight’s a special night for me,” George said to the crowd.
 
“Owning a building on Fifth Avenue has been a dream of mine since I was a boy.
 
But dreams come hard and this dream wouldn’t have happened without the support of my wife and the help of my daughter, Celina.”

He looked at Celina.
 
“If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. “ He touched his glass of champagne to hers.
 
“Here’s to many more years of our working together.”

The crowd burst into applause.
 
Just as Celina was giving George a kiss, Leana looked away and asked a barman for a bottle of champagne.
 
When the man handed her one, she grabbed Eric by the hand and led him into the crowd.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Leana’s answer was as clear as the hurt in her voice.
 
“To get our minds off her.”

*
  
*
  
*

They walked down the hallway in silence, Leana slightly ahead of Eric, Eric glancing into the rooms that were on either side of them.
 
They were in George and Elizabeth’s penthouse and as they passed one of the sitting rooms, lightning flashed, illuminating for an instant the family’s cat, Isabel, who sat poised and alert on an orange damask sofa.

They stepped into the room that was at the end of the hall.
 
Leana stopped in the doorway.
 
She gazed across the library at her father’s desk, which was illumined by a green-shaded lamp.
 
“I thought I turned that light off earlier,” she said.

Eric brushed past her and moved into the room.
 
He dropped into a chair and closed his eyes.
 
Would the room never stop spinning?

Leana remained in the doorway.
 
“I know I turned that light off.”

“Obviously you didn’t, Leana.
 
The light’s still on.”

“I don’t care if the light’s on.
 
I was here earlier.
 
Before I left with that man from security, I know I turned that light off.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying?
 
Somebody has been here.”

“Big deal?
 
It could have been Celina and her new man.”

She hadn’t thought of that.
 
“Maybe.”
 

“Would you please just open that bottle of champagne?
 
I’m thirsty.”

She crossed to where he was sitting and turned on the lamp beside him.
 
Eric winced and brought up a hand to shield his eyes. “I think you’d better pass on the champagne,” Leana said.
 
“You look like hell.”

“I feel like heaven.”

“Wait till tomorrow.”

She went to the windows that were behind her.
 
In the city’s deep glow, sleek black skyscrapers loomed dark against the sky.
 
Eric settled further into his seat.

“You know something, Leana?” he said.
 
“You really are beautiful.”

“You know something, Eric?
 
You really are drunk.”

“You know what my favorite memory of you is?”

She looked at his reflection in the window.
 
“No.”

“You were fifteen years old, I had known you for maybe five months and you told me that you and your best friend at the time—what was her name?
 
Asia Something—were planning on attending Christmas Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in the nude.
 
Wearing long jackets, of course.”

She turned away from the windows.
 
“Her name is Asia Ward,” she said, smiling.
 
“And we’re still friends.
 
But cut me some slack.
 
That’s
your favorite memory of me?
 
If it is, I’m more fucked up than I thought I was.”

“It’s one of them,” Eric said.
 
“I can still remember you and Asia sitting between George and Elizabeth, red-faced, trying not to laugh, giving me the eye when no one else was looking.
 
I remember thinking that Celina would never do this.
 
It was then that I knew you and I would become friends.”

Leana popped the cork on the bottle of champagne and brought the bottle to her lips. As she drank, she became aware that Eric was looking at her intently.
 
“I have a favorite memory of you,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Do you remember all the letters you wrote to me while I was at school in Switzerland?”

He nodded.

“I was strung out on coke then and you knew.
 
I’ve never asked you how you knew.”

Eric hesitated, his mind fogged by the alcohol, but then he remembered and explained.
 
“That week Celina and I visited?
 
I needed a pen for something and found, in your desk drawer, beneath a pile of papers, a half-empty vial of coke.”

Leana closed her eyes.
 
“And you never told anyone,” she said.
 
“Not Celina.
 
Not Mom or Dad.
 
You decided to let me handle the problem on my own—which I couldn’t. But you had faith in me that I could.
 
All those letters you wrote, encouraging me, letting me know that you were there if I ever needed someone to talk to, did I ever thank you for them?
 
And for keeping my problem to yourself?”

“I’m sure you must have.”

Leana smiled. “You’re being kind.
 
I was so screwed up, I’m sure I didn’t.
 
But I will now.
 
It’s what we addicts are supposed to do.
 
Thank you, Eric.
 
Thanks for believing in me when no one else did.”

She folded her arms and turned back to the windows.
 
In the reflection of the glass, she watched Eric stand, uncertainly at first, but with greater control as he removed his dinner jacket and flung it over the back of the chair.

Soon he was standing behind her, running his fingers through her hair, brushing his lips against her bare shoulder.
 
Although she knew what was happening was wrong, that it would never amount to anything more than this, Leana didn’t resist him.
 
In fact, she welcomed Eric’s touch.
 
Right now, more than anything, she needed to be loved and held.

*
  
*
  
*

Across the room, crouched motionless beneath George Redman’s desk, Vincent Spocatti listened.
 
The big leather wingback was pressed hard against his chest.
 
His head was twisted down and uncomfortably to the side.
 
His gun was drawn and ready to fire if he had to.
 

He had been going through the files on Redman’s desk when Leana Redman and her friend stepped into the room, taking him by surprise.
 
What infuriated him more than nearly being caught was the fact that he had found nothing here that would be of interest to Louis Ryan.
 
Not one file on Redman’s desk had to do with the takeover of WestTex Incorporated.

But there were other ways to get the information Ryan needed.
 
And if Ryan was willing to pay Vincent’s price, Vincent could get it for him.

He strained to hear where they were in the room and could hear the sound of their kissing.
 
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay in this position.
 
The muscles in his neck were beginning to knot, as were the muscles in his back.

And then he heard footfalls on the carpet.

He looked through a small crack in the desk’s front panel and saw a ripple of white cloth, a pair of tanned legs, moving in his direction.
 
His hand tightened around the gun. The light above him clicked off.
 
Spocatti tensed, ready to shoot.
 
Leana said, “Remember that, Eric.
 
I turned off the light.
 
I’m not crazy.”

“Yes, you are,” Eric said.
 
“Now, come on.
 
Let me show you how crazy I can be.”

Spocatti waited until he was certain they had left the room before he pushed back the chair, stood and tucked the gun in his holster.
 
As he smoothed his gloved hands down the front of his black dinner jacket, it occurred to him that that was twice this evening that Leana Redman had nearly blown his cover.
 
He stretched his neck, tried to ease a cramp.

Payback
, he thought as he eased out of the room and stepped into the hall,
is a bitch.

*
  
*
  
*

In the lobby, Spocatti stepped out of the elevator, looked for Celina Redman, found her near the buffet talking to a man and approached them.
 

“Celina Redman?” he asked.

They both turned to look at him.
 
“Yes?” she said.

He showed her his security card.
 
“May I have a word with you in private?”