business guests, we have everything they need-wireless, printers and fax machines, and a spacious, well-lit writing area. For those seeking computer equipment, laptops are available at no cost. For those on vacation, we’ve provided stylists for the women, tailors for the men. The spa here will be noted as one of New York's best-I can promise you that.”
He was beginning to sound more like a well-rehearsed PR person than the chairman of a multi-billion dollar corporation.
Leana stepped onto the terrace, lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and wondered again why Ryan had taken the risk of asking her to run such a hotel. More than once it had occurred to her that he might be using her to anger her father, and while Leana didn’t like the feeling, she accepted it because she, too, took the job for the same reason-sticking it to George.
She sensed someone standing behind her. It was Louis. He was standing in the doorway, hands clasped behind him, the sun reflecting off his glasses, making his eyes seem like gleaming spheres. “Pretty boring stuff, huh?”
Leana smiled.
“You won’t have to hear more,” he said. “We’re alone now. Zack’s going to finish the rest of the tour.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Zack is so…capable.”
“He’s an arrogant prick,” Louis said. “But he’s the best at what he does. When you’re in a pinch, he’ll have your back. That’s why I keep him. That’s why you’ll come to like him.”
“We’ll see.”
He moved to the railing she was standing at and leaned against it. They were on the fortieth floor and the city stretched out before them. “So, what’s the problem?” he asked. “You’re quiet.”
Leana decided that if she was going to work for this man, she was going to be honest with him.
“I got this job because you wanted to piss off my father, didn’t I?”
“Now what makes you think that?”
Leana raised a hand. “Look,” she said. “Can we just cut the bullshit? We both know that you and my father would prefer to see each other dead. We both know that my father is going to be furious when he learns I’ve taken this job. That’ll make you happy. Frankly, it also will make me happy. Very happy. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Louis lifted his head. Behind his glasses, his eyes narrowed slightly, almost as if he were seeing her in a different light, putting her in a different league. “I do,” he said.
“I just don’t want you to think that I don’t know what’s going on here,” Leana said. “Because I do. But I promise you this, Louis-this hotel will become a success under my leadership. It will become the only hotel to stay at in this city. I know the right people to ask for help when I need it. And I also know when to trust my gut when they aren’t available. Are we clear on that?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good,” Leana said. “So, if there’s nothing more, I have to return this outfit to the boutique on the first floor. Before I was ambushed by your group of investors, I told the manager she’d have it back within the hour.” She clicked her tongue. “And to think you said it was going to be just the two of us this morning.”
“I thought it was going to be,” he said truthfully. “Seeing them here was as much a surprise to you as it was to me.” He nodded at the brooch. “What are you going to do with that?”
Leana lifted her lapel and looked down at the dazzling swirl of diamonds. “Oh, this? This is going to be charged to you. So is the suit. J’adore Dior. The car’s nice, Louis, and I appreciate it. But now that we’ve come to a mutual understanding about why I’m really here, I think you’ll agree they’re worth it when my father learns that the car, the suit and this brooch came from you.”
As she moved past him, she leaned into him. “You want me to play dirty? It comes at a cost. But you can afford it. See you.”
On the drive back to her apartment, Leana allowed herself a well-deserved smile. She had been put on the spot and she handled herself well. She doubted whether her sister could have done better.
After finding a rare parking space along Fifth, she grabbed the roses off the seat beside her and raced up the five flights of stairs to her apartment-stopping abruptly when she saw the man waiting outside her apartment door.
He turned to her.
“Leana Redman?” he said.
Leana took a step back down the stairs, ready to bolt if he tried something. She did not give her name. “How did you get up here?” she asked.
The man was short, wiry and had blond spiky hair. He nodded past her, motioning down the stairs. “The door was open.”
“What do you want?”
“If you’re Leana Redman, I got a package for you-but you need to sign first.”
He thrust out a clipboard with some papers on it and Leana noticed for the first time the gift-wrapped package that was at his feet. Still wary, she signed where she was told and took the package when he handed it to her.
The man didn’t move. Instead, he just looked at her and waited with his hands on his hips. He attempted what she supposed was a smile.
Leana got the hint and moved past him. “Sorry,” she said. “My purse is inside. Could you give me a minute?”
She unlocked her apartment door and closed it when she went inside. She dropped the roses and the package onto a counter top, and reached for her purse on a side table. She removed a twenty, went back to the door and handed it to the man. “Thanks,” she said, and shut the door in his face. She locked it twice and dead bolted it once. He gave her the creeps.
The box was heavy for its size.
As she crossed the room to her bed, she shook it. Something heavy inside shifted. She couldn’t imagine what it was or who it was from. Not Louis again…
She sat at the foot of her bed, curled her legs around her and began removing the pink wrapping paper. When she opened the box, a scent of her favorite perfume drifted to her-the perfume Michael gave her yesterday as a gift. Smiling, she removed sheet upon sheet of red tissue paper, not stopping until she had gripped the object that was at the bottom of the box.
For a moment, she froze. The object was a gun.
Leana released it, the coolness of the metal lingering like a poison on her palm and fingertips.
Inside was a note.
Miss Redman:
I’ve been asked to watch you for some time now and I must say that it’s going to be a shame to kill you. Never have I seen such a remarkably beautiful young woman. This morning, while you were sitting in your new car, I had to still an urge to press against your back the very gun that’s inside this box and take you home with me. I can only imagine how exquisite your legs would feel around my back, can only dream how sweet our love-making would be.
But that won’t be. My job is to kill you. Allow me to apologize now. When I take your life, it won’t be with pleasure.
And that is why I’m giving you an opportunity-take the gun, press it against your temple and pull the trigger. It will weigh much less heavily on my mind knowing you had the good sense to take your own life and I can guarantee you that it will be far less painful, especially since I've been paid to make certain it's painful. Sometimes, when people don’t take my advice, I can become quite…brutal.
It really is a perfect day for a suicide, wouldn’t you say? The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the gun is loaded. Please make the right decision, Miss Redman. Someone as pretty as you should be spared as much pain as possible.
I’m giving you twenty-four hours to make your decision. Any time after that and you’re fair game. Oh, and please don’t do anything foolish like telling someone about this. If you do, I’ll know-and neither of us wants
