The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (31 page)

“It’s true,” he said.
 
“And it always happens with models.
 
Care to offer me some insight?”

“Just let me be clear on this,” she said.
 
“You date models?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Maybe a drink will make you feel better?”

Leana lifted her full glass of wine.
 
“Too late,” she said.
 
“But let me buy you one.
 
It will help cheer you up from your model malaise.
 
What would you like?
 
Something without calories?”

He laughed.
 
“Anything cold,” he said.
 
“The heat is murder today.”

He caught the barman’s attention and ordered a beer.
 
When it arrived, he took a long swallow and thanked Leana.

“My pleasure.”

“What brings you here?” he asked.
 
“I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

“You’re not interrupting a thing.
 
I’m supposed to be meeting a friend for dinner, but he’s late.
 
I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been stood up, too.”

“How late is late?”

“Thirty minutes late.”

Michael lifted an eyebrow.
 
“You’ve got that kind of patience?
 
I was leaving after waiting only twenty minutes.”

“Oh, you novelists,” she said.
 
“Oh, you movie stars.
 
So busy.
 
So little time.”

He couldn’t help a smile.
 
“Have you given him a call?”

“No,” Leana said.
 
“But that isn’t a bad idea.”

She excused herself to use her cell phone at a quiet area of the restaurant.
 
She was reaching into her purse for it when a waiter tapped her on the shoulder.
 
“Leana Redman?”

Leana looked at the man.
 
“Yes?”

“Message for you.”
 
He handed her a slip of paper and left.

Leana knew the note was from Mario before she opened it.

Leana:

I tried calling you at Harold’s but you were out.
 
I’m not going to be able to make dinner tonight.
 
I forgot it’s Lucia’s birthday and I need to spend it with her and the kids.
 
Especially because of the kids.
 
I swear I’ll make this up to you.
 
Try not to be angry.
 
I’ll explain everything when I get in touch with you.

—Mario

Leana crumpled the note and dropped it in an ashtray.
 
So, now he was lying to her.
 
She knew Lucia’s birthday was only a week after her own—and that wasn’t for another five months.

She tried to still a twinge of anger, but couldn’t.
 
She should have known that he would let her down.
 
Sooner or later, most men did.
 
She wondered why she thought she could trust him in the first place.
 
He’s married
, she thought.
 
When am I going to get it?
 
Married men and Leana Redman equals poison.
 
Time to move on
.

When she returned to the bar, Michael was signing the back of a cocktail napkin for one of the waitresses.
 
Leana watched him.
 
He seemed comfortable with his celebrity, at ease and unaffected by it.
 
She knew he was attracted to her.
 
She sensed that the night of the party.
 
But she was attracted to him, too.

She waited for the waitress to leave before approaching him.

“Can I also have your autograph?” she asked.
 
“It would mean the world to me, Mr. Archer.
 
I’d do anything to get it.”

“Where do you want it.”

She waved a hand, sat down and reached for her glass of wine.
 
“Since my ass obviously is a target tonight, you could put it there.”

“What does that mean.”

“Apparently, I’ve been stood up, too, which is a shame because I’m starving.
 
So, how about me buying you dinner?”

“You already bought me a drink.
 
My turn.”

“No,” she said as they slid off their barstools.
 
“I asked first.
 
But please, do me a favor and order off the children’s menu.”
 
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
 
“Money got a little tight today.”

*
  
*
  
*

Vincent Spocatti waited for them to be seated before leaving his table in the corner of the restaurant.
 
They were now at the opposite end of the crowded room.
 
He moved so she couldn’t see him, slipped outside and phoned Louis Ryan, who answered on the second ring.
 
“This is Ryan.”

“They’re ordering dinner.”

“Good,” Louis said.
 
“And I assume Mr. De Cicco won’t be bothering them during their meal?”

“I doubt it,” Spocatti said.
 
“Not after the package I sent his wife.”

Spocatti was full of surprises.
 
“What was in it?”

“Three dozen black roses and a note saying if she’d like to join her mother in hell, please feel free to step out of her home.
 
Obviously, Mario is keeping an eye on his wife as we speak.”

“How did Leana react?”

“How do you think she reacted?
 
She is having dinner with Michael, Louis.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

While Leana was having dinner with Michael, Celina was phoning George and asking him to meet her for a drink.
 
“I don’t care if you’re busy.
 
I need to talk to you.
 
Be at Houlihan’s on 56th and Lex in an hour.
 
It’s important.”

She arrived at the popular bar ten minutes early.

The bar itself was three deep in people—most of whom were either posing or prowling, or throwing back their heads in comic relief.

Celina’s glance swept the pandemonium for George.
 
She saw young businessmen in thousand-dollar suits struggling to look sophisticated and successful young businesswomen sipping white wine and trying to kick the traces of cocaine.
 
She didn’t see George and she was glad.
 
Celina wanted to see her father come in, wanted to watch him in that one moment before he knew she was watching.

She shouldered her way to the bar.
 
One of the women recognized her and there was an audible whisper across the crowd:
 
“Celina Redman….”

People turned and stared and Celina heard Eric Parker’s name mentioned more than once.
 
She focused her attention on the barman.
 
She ordered a martini and turned to look across a wooden divider, where people sat talking and drinking.
 
A couple was just leaving a corner table, making it now the only available table in the place.

Celina paid for the drink and moved toward the table.
 
She sat—and was surprised by how tired she was.

All day long, she and her father had been caucusing with Ted Frostman about the feasibility of taking over WestTex Incorporated.
 
While he was enthusiastic, there were some at Chase who were more cautious.
 
They wanted to run their own due diligence.
 
They wanted to unleash on the company their own team of lawyers and accountants.
  
They wanted to speak to Iran themselves.
 
Until they knew every nook and cranny of WestTex, until they were certain the deal with Iran would not fall through, they were hesitant to join George in this takeover.

And Celina couldn’t blame them.
 
There was plenty at risk, but time wasn’t a luxury in this deal and Frostman and Chase knew it.
 
If they couldn’t give her father a commitment soon, George would have to try again and look elsewhere for financing.
 
If they were serious, at some point Chase would need to have faith in her father and his prior successes, and take the risk.

She happened to be watching the doors when George stepped into the bar.

He looked tan and lean and was wearing the same comfortable style of clothing he always wore after work—khaki pants, white cotton shirt, brown leather loafers.

He went to the bar.
 
People stepped aside, the conversation around him faltered, and he knew it.
 
He had just caught the bartender’s eye when a young man in an expensively tailored gray suit approached him.
 
He thrust out his hand, shook George’s and spoke to the bartender.
 
Two drinks appeared in what seemed like a matter of seconds.
 
They touched glasses, drank and George listened patiently as the man made his pitch.

Celina couldn’t help a smile.
 
Although it happened more frequently than he liked, her father never shied away from such situations.
 
He often said this was how he found some of his best employees.

She wondered if George felt that way now.
 
He had met and hired Eric Parker at a bar like this.

The young man left with a smile stamped on his face and George turned to look for Celina.
 
When he spotted her, he held her gaze for a moment, nodded to acknowledge he had seen her and came across the room.
 
Celina could sense in him a slight annoyance at being called away from home.

He took the seat opposite her.
 
“This is quite a place,” George said.
 
“Loud, full—and young.
 
You come here often?”

“Eric and I used to.”

He accepted this with a nod.

“Let me come right to the point.”

“Go for it.”

“I want to know if you had anything to do with what happened to Eric last night.”

The tension was quick to form and it stretched between them.
 
George looked at Celina, but his face remained expressionless.
 
He didn’t answer.

“I was there when they wheeled Eric out of Redman Place,” Celina said.
 
“I saw them lift him into the back of an ambulance.
 
I saw Diana Crane join him.
 
I want to know if you had anything to do with it.”