The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (6 page)

He went to them and knew he was in trouble the moment he turned on a computer.
 
As the screen flickered to life, he noticed on the front of the computer an illuminated slot that differed slightly from the slot on the elevator’s control panel.
 
And then the following words appeared on the screen: PLEASE SWIPE ACCESS CARD.

The only card Ryan gave him was the computer-coded card he had used to access the elevator.
 
He removed it from his jacket pocket, swiped it and waited.
 
The screen went blank.
 
A moment later, a new message flashed on the screen: ACCESS DENIED.
 

And there it was—Ryan screwed up.
 
He didn’t supply him with the correct card.
 
Spocatti felt a spark of rage, but stilled it.
 
He could hack the machine, but there was no time.
 
He turned the computer off and looked around the room.
 
There were no file cabinets here, only desks with locked drawers in which he assumed Redman would keep nothing vital.
 
Spocatti knew that everything he needed was in these computers…or safe in Redman’s office.

He looked at the time on his watch.
 
He still had twenty minutes before he wanted to be back in the lobby.
 
Ryan told him that Redman’s office was on the third floor of his triplex.

If he hurried….

CHAPTER FIVE

High above Redman International in her parents’ triplex, Leana Redman stood at a window at the end of a long hallway.
 
She was looking down at the endless line of traffic on Fifth.

She was thirty minutes late for the party.
 
Her parents would be irritated and the press would be wondering where she was—but that’s exactly as Leana wanted it.
 
In no way did she want to be part of this event.
 
And yet she knew she had to go.
 
If she didn’t, her parents would disown her.

Before she went, she decided to have a drink first.

In the library, she bent to the small refrigerator that was at her feet and removed a bottle of champagne.
 
She poured herself a glass and thought again of the man who followed her earlier.
 
His threat still chilled her.
 
She wondered if she made a mistake by not going to the police and knew now that she probably had.

She went to her father’s desk, turned on the green-shaded lamp and sat down.
 
On the desk were several framed photographs of the family.
 
Leana chose one of her and Celina.
 
Here, they were children—Leana, seven; Celina, eleven—and she was surprised to see how happy they looked.
 
In the meadow behind their Connecticut home, the girls were holding hands, resting against a tree stump and wearing huge straw hats that cast their faces in shadow.
 
Behind them, Elizabeth was laughing, her blonde hair shining in the sun.

She wondered when her feelings for Celina changed.
 
The answer came at once.
 
When Dad began taking her to Redman International.

It was late.
 
No matter how much she didn’t want to go, she had to join the party. Turning the picture face down on the desk, she flipped off the light and left for the bar.
 
As she bent to put the bottle of champagne back into the refrigerator, she caught a glimpse of herself in the windows beside her.
 
There was also something else in the reflection.
 
The door to the library was opening.

She felt a start and turned.
 
The door was almost fully open now.
 
A flag of light sliced into the room.
 
She was about to ask who was there when a man peered inside.
 
He didn’t see her.
 
Leana was at the opposite end of the room, partly concealed by shadow.

He stood in the doorway, sensing, judging, his concentration intent.
 
Something in his left hand glinted and Leana saw that it was a gun.

She stood completely still, barely breathing.
 
Although she wasn’t absolutely certain, he resembled the man who had followed her earlier….

Panic rose in her.
 
She receded deeper into shadow and wondered how he had gotten up here without a card to access the elevator.
 
She watched him enter the room.
 
He didn’t walk into it, but eased into it like a cat, his gaze constantly changing as he moved toward her father’s desk.

She could not let him see her.

At the end of the bar was a bookcase that extended two feet from the wall.
 
On one side was a small opening she could hide behind. When the man wasn’t looking in her direction, Leana nudged toward it.
 
Her dress rustled when she moved.
 
The man heard it, whirled on his heel and took aim.
 
Leana froze.
 
Their eyes met.

“Who the fuck are you?” she shouted.

The man stepped away from her father’s desk and lowered his gun.
 
After a moment’s silence, he said, “There you are.”

Leana was taken aback.
 
The man was holstering his gun, seemingly oblivious to her fear.
 
“I asked who you are!”

“Antonio Benedetti,” he said.
 
“A member of security.”
 
He stepped forward and she could see now that he was not the man who had followed her earlier, but one who resembled him.
 
Her heart was pounding.
 
“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he said. “You’re late for the party.
 
Your parents told me to come and find you.”

“And you needed a gun for that?”

“Miss Redman, after what happened here this morning, every member of security is carrying a gun.”

She studied him.
 
He was tall and dark, his features sharp and attractive.
 
There was a coolness about him that she found appealing.
 
She took a breath as he stepped over to the door and held it open for her.
 
“Your mother’s furious,” he said.
 
“If you’re not in the lobby soon, she’ll probably have me fired.
 
Are you coming?”

Leana hesitated, then started toward the open door.
 
As she walked past the man, she said, “My sister saved a life today. The least I can do is save a job.
 
Let’s go.”

*
  
*
  
*

The elevator dropped like a stone.

As they neared the lobby, Leana looked up at the elevator’s lighted dial and watched the floors race by.
 
She heard the crowd’s rising din, felt beneath her feet the driving beat of the band and became nervous.
 
She never fit into these situations.
 
She would know few people here.
 
This was her parents’ and sister’s world, not hers.
 
So, why had she been asked to come?

She looked at the man standing beside her and saw that he was looking at her. Again she thought how handsome he was.
 
She glanced at his left hand and saw no ring.
 
Promising, but life had taught her that no ring meant nothing.
 
“What do you think the chances are of this place blowing up tonight?” she asked.

Her question didn’t faze him.
 
“Less than zero.”

“Oh, come on,” Leana said.
 
“Don’t you think my father has something else planned to capture the world’s attention?
 
Like a sniper, perhaps?
 
Or maybe a fire?”

He cocked his head at her.
 
“You think your father rigged those spotlights with explosives?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“But people were hurt, your sister nearly killed.”

“Quelle domage.”

“I still don’t see your point.
 
Why would your father want to do something as ridiculous as that?
  
It makes no sense.”

“Free publicity, Mr. Benedetti, makes a lot of sense.”

He leaned against the wall and studied her.
 
“You don’t believe what you’re saying, do you?”

Leana’s eyes flashed.
 
“That doesn’t matter,” she said.
 
“It’s always interesting to see what other people will believe.”

The car slowed to a stop.
 
With the parting of doors came a sudden blast of cool air, music and noise.
 
Leana stood there a moment, undetected, and looked around the crowded room.
 
While she saw no friends of hers, it seemed that wherever she looked, she was reminded of her sister.
 
From the waterfall to her right to the Lalique crystal chandeliers that shined above her head, Celina’s influence was clear.

Once, when Redman International was nearing completion, Leana asked her father if she could help decorate the lobby.
 
George dismissively said it was a job for professionals.
 
He would never know the hurt Leana felt when it was decided that Celina would decorate the lobby.
 
George would only sense Leana’s anger afterwards and pass it off as one of her moods.

They left the elevator.
 
“Well,” Benedetti said, “it was nice talking to you.”

“And to you,” Leana said.
 
“Keep your eye out for any snipers.
 
You never know when one will pop up.”

Leana watched him move into the crowd, where this time she saw a few familiar faces in the endless sea of heads.
 
Looking over at her parents and sister, she saw that they were still greeting guests—George laughing, Elizabeth chatting, Celina hugging.
 

Leana wanted to hurl.
 

She started toward them, her gaze shifting from George to Elizabeth to Celina.
 
One of these days, they’ll respect me as much as they respect her.
 
But even as she thought this, she wondered how she’d pull it off.
 
As she took her position next to Celina in the reception line, disappointment, frustration and anger all were clearly expressed by George and Elizabeth—and yet neither said a word.

Leana supposed she should be happy for the way her presence—or lack thereof—had affected them, but she wasn’t.
 
Instead, a part of her felt guilty for coming late.

Outside, the paparazzi went suddenly wild as Michael Archer alighted from his limousine and stepped into the lobby.
 
Cameras flashed.
 
The crowd of onlookers cheered.
 
Leana recognized him immediately.
 
“I didn’t know Mom sent him an invitation,” she said to Celina.
 
“I read one of his books a few months ago.”

Celina looked puzzled.
 
“Mom didn’t send him an invitation.
 
I went over the guest list twice with her.
 
Michael Archer’s name was nowhere on it.”
 
She gave her sister a look.
 
“And where have you been?”

“Flossing.”

Leana looked at Elizabeth, who was watching Michael Archer shake hands with her husband.
 
She knew her mother had no tolerance for those who crashed parties—especially her own.
 
She wondered how she would handle this.