Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series)

by Smith, Christopher

  “This has nothing to do with your mother. We need to talk about us and someone I’ve hired to work at Redman International.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Pepper.”

  “Pippa?”

  “I said, ‘Pepper.’”

  She was in a limousine and couldn’t hear him well—he was fading in and out. She rolled down the window in an effort to improve the connection. “How in the hell did you manage to hire Pippa Middleton?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You just said you did.”

  “Are you unable to hear me?”

  “I can hear you now.”

  “I hired Pepper Redman.”

  “What’s a Pepper Redman?”

  “It’s your cousin, Penelope. They nicknamed her Pepper at Wharton.”

  “Who nicknamed her Pepper?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Are they blind? The last time I saw Penelope, she barely spoke. She didn’t look you in the eye. She was a mouse.”

  “Now, she’s more like a hurricane. You won’t recognize her when you see her. She’s a force.”

  Leana rolled up the window and couldn’t help feeling slighted. Instead of offering her work, he went to another family member, which meant he made the conscious decision to overlook her just as he always did. If he used the excuse that it was because she was opening a hotel of her own, she’d remind him that Celina ran several of Redman International’s properties when she was alive. So, why couldn’t she? Once her hotel was open, her general manager would take care of the day-to-day operations and oversee the staff, which would leave her free to explore other ventures. He’d know that. The idea that he’d look elsewhere stung.

  “What did you hire her to do?”

  “That’s what I want to discuss.”

  “All right,” she said. “I can be there. But Anastassios Fondaras is having a party tomorrow night. He invited Mario and me. Mario’s not going, but I committed. I’ll need to leave by ten.”

  “You need to be careful with Fondaras, Leana.”

  And you need to save your concerns for Pepper. “The party’s an event. I’m going because the press will be there, and I want to drive attention to the hotel. Surely, you of all people can understand that. I’ll see you at seven.”

  But what to wear to each?

  Her sister, Celina, would have known. But Celina was gone and as tumultuous as their relationship had been when her older sister was alive, Leana wished she could call her up now and ask her what to wear for a dinner date with their father that would transcend to a party thrown by Fondaras. She thought of her mother and wished she also could call her. But she couldn’t. Her mother was in prison, and calling wasn’t easy.

  As usual, she’d need to rely on herself.

  Fortunately, Leana was no stranger to that. What she had in front of her were two vastly different events in one evening. She wished she could be herself and go casually to each, but the moment she considered it, she knew it would be a mistake. Her father expected Celina to look professional at all times, which she had, and he’d expect the same from her. As for the Fondaras party, if she showed up in anything that was even remotely casual, the press would slay her.

  She looked over at the bags. Hopefully, the answer to her problems was in one of them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What are you doing?”

  Mario De Cicco, her strapping fiancé and the love of her life, appeared in the doorway of her walk-in closet, where she was on her knees going through the bags of clothes that surrounded her. In his hand was an energy drink. He was sweaty and obviously had been working out, likely trying to shake off what had been a difficult morning.

  His children, Sophia and Stefano, had boarded a plane earlier to go back to school in Sicily, where their grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins and many of their friends lived. She knew it was hard for him to let them go, but going to the school he himself had attended was a family tradition. He received a good education there and the experience of living abroad was something he’d never forget. He knew better than to stop that tradition for his own children.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “They’ll be fine.”

  “We’ll visit in a couple months?”

  “That’s the plan.” He nodded at the bags of clothes. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to figure out what will work for dinner with my father and also for the Fondaras party.”

  He looked around the crowded closet and chose his words carefully. “Nothing here is appropriate?”

  “Most of it’s for the hotel. I’ll find something.”

  “How about if I go with you tonight? To the party, not to your father’s.”

  She dug deep into one of the bags and pulled out a pair of Spanx. After what happened three years ago at The Hotel Fifth and a year ago at the Four Seasons, his first instinct was to protect her. She loved him for it, but at some point, she needed to stand on her own. “You’ve had a rough day and this would only make it worse. You know how these things are. Kiss kiss, hug hug, hurl hurl. I’m only going because I know how Anastassios operates. The media will be there. If I’m lucky, they’ll ask about the hotel. We open in a month. I’ll take all the free publicity I can get and that’s one place where I might get a lot of it.”

  She held up a dark red dress and tossed it aside. She held up a shorter dark blue dress, hesitated and then also tossed it aside.

  “You’re going to have a stroke finding something to wear.”

  “I just need that one dress....”

  “Why don’t you let me help?”

  “Says the man who’s practically nude.”

  “I’m wearing a towel.”

  She looked up at him. Every part of him that should be bulging was happily obliging. “Exactly. And actually, I was going to ask you to put something on. That’s distracting.”

  “What’s distracting?”

  She drew an imaginary circle around his muscled torso. “All of that. That right there. That’s distracting.”

  He motioned to the bedroom behind him. “All of this can be had right over there.”

  She was about to say no, but the sight of him always did her in. After all they’d been through together, he turned her on now than ever. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Just after four.”

  “Just after four?” She stood up. “Hell, it doesn’t take me that long to get ready. If it comes down to it, all I need is a little black dress or something. That would work for each occasion.”

  “It would.”

  She felt charged by the thought of being with him now. If anything could make her cares go away, it was Mario’s moves in the bedroom. She pulled her shirt over her head and snapped her finger against his energy drink as she walked past him. “Drink up, stud. You’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Leana rolled on top of him, her hair damp and hanging in his face. He kissed one of her breasts and then pressed a finger against her nose.

  “This is going to be interesting,” he said.

  “What’s going to be interesting?”

  “Watching your face in the next few seconds.”

  “You can’t be serious. What are you going to do to me now? Haven’t you done everything? There can’t be anything else. You can’t have anything else. Unless you’re hanging out with Sting, it’s impossible. And by the way, that thing you did about fifteen minutes ago? You need to remember that.”

  “It’s not me,” he said. “It’s the time. Do you even know what time it is, Leana?”

  She whipped around and looked at the alarm clock on the table beside them. A jolt went through her. “It’s almost six o’clock!”

  He patted her on the ass as she leaped off him and ran into the bathroom. He heard the shower spring to life, the glass door clang shut and a bottle of some sort drop onto the ceramic tile.

  He cracked open the door. “Need any help?”

&n
bsp; “Is that even a question? I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “I can take care of that.”

  “Mario, you do enough.”

  “It’s not a big deal, Leana.”

  “Maybe something from one of the bags,” she said. “You know what looks best on me. Something from one of the bags and a pair of shoes. Or maybe that little black dress we talked about earlier. Actually, that would work best. I have a few, and they’re already pressed. I want to look professional. Smart. A little sexy for the party, but not too sexy for my father, which would be weird. I need to bring it.”

  “What you need to do is calm down. And don’t worry about it. You’ll be bringing a lot of it. I promise.”

  When she finished showering and came out of the bathroom with her hair in a towel, what she saw on the bed wasn’t a black dress or something she purchased earlier. Instead, he chose her favorite pair of jeans, her favorite pair of Jimmy Choo’s and a white Prada silk shirt, also her favorite. She wore this exact outfit a week ago, when they went to the opening of a new restaurant in the Village.

  She looked up, aghast, and found him sitting across the room with a glass of scotch in his hand. There was no time for him to choose something else for her. “What is this?” she asked.

  “That’s what Leana Redman would wear.”

  “But it’s not what I asked for.”

  “Everything in those bags are what Celina Redman would wear. You’re not Celina Redman. You’re Leana Redman. Remember her? She’s twenty-nine, she’s beautiful, and she has the sort of edge and style that can turn an outfit like that into something no one forgets. I suggest you wear that.”

  “Why are you doing this to me? What will Dad, Fondaras and the rest of them think?”

  “Since when do you care what people think?”

  “Since I’m opening a hotel in four weeks.”

  “Look,” he said. “Being in business doesn’t mean you lose your identity. In fact, that’s when you claim your identity. You become the brand. They’ll see what I see—a great-looking woman who doesn’t kiss ass and who has her own sense of style. They’ll see you. And by seeing you in that outfit tonight? You’re going to get more press than you imagined.”

  She knew he was trying to help, but she was running out of time. It was 6:30. She needed to hustle and find something else to wear.

  “I bought a few things to enhance the outfit.”

  “Enhance it?”

  He came over and opened the drawer to the bedside table. Inside were four Tiffany boxes of varying sizes.

  “You’re concerned about the jeans. I get it. These should make you feel more confident in them.”

  It was difficult to surprise Leana Redman, but if anyone could do it, it was Mario. “What are you up to?”

  He handed her each box. When she finished opening them all, she was speechless. He bought her a massive diamond cocktail ring set in platinum, a diamond bracelet that was five stones deep, diamond earrings that were large, but not obnoxious, and a diamond necklace that was designed to be obnoxious. They would cause necks to break when women turned to catch a glimpse of them.

  If only because of her mother, Leana knew jewelry. There was more than a million dollars of it in front of her. If worn properly, what Mario had gifted her could turn something casual into something that would make a statement.

  “Mario,” she said. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You just said plenty in bed a moment ago.”

  “I don’t think those were words.”

  “Just consider me a happy man.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you. And all of this is you—jeans and diamonds and a bit of an attitude. I knew what you were up against tonight, so I put some thought into it. Make me proud, cause a scene no one will forget and you’ll get the press you need for your hotel.”

  “You know, there’s still time. Forget about what I said earlier. Come to the party with me.”

  “And stand you up with my Italian good looks? I love you, Leana, but this is your moment. Tonight, I’ll take a back seat.”

  * * *

  She had no time to do much of anything. She blew out her hair with a dryer and put a flat iron to it. She put on makeup, changed into her clothes and then looked down at the jewels that were laid out on the bed. They should come with their own security team, she thought.

  She put them on and went to the mirror in her closet to adjust them. And when she did, his vision became clear.

  In no way, shape or form was she properly dressed for her father or for the Fondaras crowd. What Mario had given her was a game changer. He knew that going against convention and showing up looking like this would generate press as she leaned into the final weeks of opening her hotel. But what if the press was negative and it backfired? How would that affect the hotel? Would it negatively affect it, or would it only fuel interest in it?

  Mario moved behind her. “That’s what Leana Redman would wear.”

  She wasn’t so sure. Much of her life had been lived by taking risks, but now, with the responsibilities of the hotel on her, she felt more conservative than ever. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said. “You don’t know how much I appreciate what you’ve done. But I know those people. They’re going to rake me over the coals.”

  “Who is?”

  “Everyone on that yacht.”

  “What do you care? They’re frauds. You’re a Redman and you look terrific. What do you have to lose if someone dislikes what you’re wearing? You’re about to be a major player in New York. And major players wear what they want to wear.”

  “You don’t understand. With the hotel, I feel like I have everything to lose.”

  “You need to see the bigger picture, Leana.”

  “You know how they’ve been to me, Mario.”

  “They’re like that to everyone. No one can live up to their standards, not even themselves. So why try?” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Why are you playing the victim?”

  “I’m not playing the victim.”

  “I think you are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’m going to tell you what I don’t understand, then I’m going to leave you alone. You’ve always wanted your father and the rest of New York to see you for you. That’s been your goal since I’ve known you. You’ve been headstrong about it. Determined to achieve it. That fight within you is one of the reasons I fell in love with you.” He held out his hands and admired her. “Look at yourself. That’s who you are. You’ve never tried to please them before. Why do you want to do so now?”

  She shook her head. “Because I don’t want to fail.”

  “An outfit’s going to make you fail?”

  It sounded ridiculous because it was ridiculous. She couldn’t help a smile.

  “What confuses me is that you’ve always rebelled against what others think of you. Why do you want to stop now?”

  She didn’t answer. She looked at herself in the mirror and knew he was right despite her self-doubt. She never behaved like this. What was wrong with her?

  “You need to get those people out of your head,” he said.

  “How?”

  He pointed at her in the mirror. “By believing in her.”

  * * *

  It took her five minutes alone with a martini to pull herself together and realize that he was right.

  He called ahead and had one of his father’s cars waiting outside for her, which was just another reason she loved him because beyond the air-conditioned walls of their penthouse, it still was hot outside and the humidity had yet to ebb. She slipped inside the brisk compartment and asked the driver to take her to the Redman International Building on Fifth.

  She felt sick. It had been three years since she’d last been there. When her mother was imprisoned, her fallout with her father had only deepened. And now Pepper Redman was in the picture. She’d only complicate the situation.


  Why did he want to meet with her tonight? What was he up to? Was he going to criticize her hotel? Was he going to give her another lecture about how she knew nothing about the business world?

  All her life, he refused to give her a trace of praise, so at the very least, she was prepared to be criticized.

  If he went too far, she’d just give it back to him and leave.

  She closed her eyes and thought of her best friend, Harold Baines, who committed suicide when Louis Ryan blackmailed him. In his will, Harold left her half his fortune. Her share was in the mid-hundred millions.

  In a personal note to her, Harold wrote, “I’m betting half of my estate on you because I believe in you. I know you have what it takes to become whatever you want to become. Others may doubt it, but I’ve always known that you can do anything. You’ll prove them wrong and you’ll prove me right. At the end of this note is an honest group of investors I want you to do business with should you need them. I think whatever comes next for you needs to be substantial. Something that will gain your father’s attention and, when you pull it off, maybe his respect as well as the city’s. Celina’s gone. I’m gone. But you’re alive. Find your passion and act upon it. Do something that shocks everyone. Including yourself, Leana. Mostly yourself.”

  She didn’t waste time. She called one of the investors and set up a meeting with the entire group.

  “I want a hotel,” she said to them. “There’s one on Park. It’s in poor condition, but the bones are there. It was built in the early twenties. It’s an Art Deco masterpiece and it could be brought back to something spectacular with the correct restoration.”

  The kickback she got was gentle but firm. “You want to open a hotel in this economy? Leana, hotels are struggling in New York. They’re practically giving rooms away.”

  “Which hotels are struggling? My father has several in the city. His are thriving.”

  “That’s because he’s a Redman.”

  “And I’m not?”