“I get it. And I understand your concern. But if she was here to kill you, you’d already be dead, Leana. She would have done it in that boardroom.” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know. It could be coming later for you. You told her about the opening-night specifics for The Park, which now must completely change. You, me and Mario will work on a new plan, not the one you were going with. They might be planning something. If you want to speak to the detective assigned to the case, his name is Mike Hines. I wouldn’t recommend talking to him now because of the media. There can be no pictures of you taken with police or detectives. Nothing that might harm the opening of your hotel. If you want, call him tomorrow and express your concerns.”
Leana kept her mouth shut. She had other plans.
“What’s the best way off the ship?” Mario asked.
“My helicopter,” Anastassios said. “I’ve talked to Detective Hines and he agreed to let me use it. It’s waiting for you. You won’t be bothered by any members of the press.”
“Thank you, Anastassios,” Leana said.
“Focus on your hotel. Don’t let this get in the way of it. Plan for your party, but by tomorrow, I want you to have a security team in place that will be onsite until the hotel and the party are finished. Have them vet your current construction crew. Until your hotel is open for business, nobody enters it without having clearance or permission.”
“Who should I hire?”
“I have a crew in mind. Tomorrow morning, I’ll contact them and see if they’re available, but that’s a long shot. They’re among the best and if you’re lucky enough to get them, you’ll pay dearly for their services, but they’re worth it. If they’re booked, you always have your husband’s family. If you’ll forgive me, Mario, it’s no secret that your father is capo di capi of the New York syndicate. I would imagine that using him and his men would be equally effective.”
Mario said nothing.
When they rose to leave, Leana kissed Fondaras on the cheek, Mario shook his hand and they thanked him before climbing to the top of the yacht, where the helicopter was waiting for them, its blades chopping and stirring the air. Once inside the machine, it lifted into the air and swung above the water, which caught the city’s lights and tossed them back like shards of glass. Leana couldn’t help pressing against the window to watch the three police helicopters searching the pier and the ocean with spotlights.
Somewhere below was the man who murdered Charles Stout and one of Fondaras’ guards. There would be others. She could feel it in her bones. But who? Who would be next, who was doing this now and what was the reason?
And when will it be my turn? she thought.
* * *
When she and Mario returned home, they sat and watched the news coverage on television. It dealt mostly with the deaths at the Fondaras party, but since Leana had been there too, they also reported on her, focusing first on her arrival and then on the tarp covering the front of her hotel. With the exception of the first letter, the offensive word was blurred out in shots of the scene.
“That’s thoughtful of them,” Leana said.
“What did Anastassios say to you?”
“That the publicity would be great for the hotel.” She looked at the screen and shook her head. “I’m having a difficult time believing that now.”
When the footage returned to her, she was addressing the group of reporters she met at Fondaras’ ship, but instead of allowing viewers to hear what she said to them, the commentator spoke over her and reminded viewers that three years ago, Leana Redman and her family had come under attack by Louis Ryan, and that a year ago at the Four Seasons, it was unclear whether she also was a target when the businessman Jean-Georges Laurent was shot dead.
Leana clicked through other channels but it was just more of the same. She turned off the television and leaned into Mario. “I didn’t check the messages. Were there any on the machine?”
He shook his head.
“So, no word from my father?”
“He’ll probably call in the morning.”
“Probably. He’s up to something.”
“He was OK earlier. I know you have your reservations, and I don’t blame you for them.”
“Tomorrow, the papers will hit hard. Television’s already on it. I’m sure the Internet is alive with it. So, what am I going to say to my investors? I have to call and reassure them that everything is fine and on track.”
“That’s exactly what you’ll do. You didn’t create this. When you call them, stick to the facts. What was written on the tarp was a prank. You dealt with it and moved on. Tell them you’re hiring a security team and hope to have one in place by tomorrow afternoon. They’ll see you’re on top of this. It should lessen their concern.”
“Who called me, Mario? Who told me I should go and have a look at my hotel? How did they get my number? You know I don’t give it out to just anyone.”
“That’s why Anastassios wants you to vet your construction team.” He looked at her. And unless you erased it, the number of the person who called you is still on your phone.
She got up from the couch. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said. “Get out of these clothes. Probably go to bed. Want to join me?”
“I’ll read for a bit and come up when you’re finished showering.”
“OK.”
He watched her go and waited to hear the sound of the shower running before he got up and went into the foyer for her purse. He looked inside for her phone and turned it on to check the number that came in earlier. It was there, but there was no name. He was about to shut the phone off when he noticed that there were sixty-seven text messages waiting for her. He knew she did a lot of texting, but not this much. He checked one of texts and closed his eyes after he read the message: “We’re going to cut off your limbs, shove them up your ass, and murder you, bitch.”
He checked the others and saw the same message repeated nearly seventy times. They came from someone named Deadman, an obvious riff on her last name. He banned the sender, deleted every one of the messages, memorized the number that came in earlier and called it with his own cell. All he got was an automated voice message: “Please leave your message after the tone.”
“Mario,” Leana called. “Ready to come up?”
“On my way.”
He put her phone back in her purse and closed it. Tomorrow, he’d suck it up, go to his own estranged father, and ask for help.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pepper Redman awoke on Sunday morning in her apartment at Redman Place, which was high above Fifth Avenue and where many of Redman International’s senior executives lived in high-end apartments that boasted spectacular views of the city and the Park. Now, thanks to her Uncle George, she could count herself among them.
She turned over on her back, thought about her day and wondered how she’d get through it. It was Sunday, which is when most rested, but not Pepper. Pepper worked. Pepper never stopped. Stopping was your ticket to missing your chance at the top. And with all the duties her uncle had trusted her to handle, the top was so close in sight, she felt almost blinded by it.
She looked at the clock on her bedside table and ticked off the hours since she’d been with him. For an overnight, he charged three thousand dollars, which was a bargain considering how terrific he was in bed. And now, with the clock ticking, she had only forty-five minutes before he would charge her again.
She moved onto her side and looked at him. He was beautiful. Sicilian, curly dark hair, a smooth body that was thick with muscle, and where it really mattered, he was exactly right. Not huge, but certainly substantial and also seemingly without exhaustion.
She nudged him and he turned to her with a smile. She’d been paying for his services for about a year now because that’s how Pepper worked. She didn’t have time for a boyfriend. She didn’t want the emotional investment that was attached to it.
But like any young woman, Pepper still had her needs. So the most efficient thing to
do was to hire an expensive, reputable call boy like Parker, if that even was his real name, which she doubted, and use his services. He was her semimonthly date. They’d have dinner, the conversation was usually festive and bright, they’d fuck for hours afterwards and she’d have a man in her bed for the rest of the night. In the morning, she showed him the door.
For Pepper Redman, it was the ideal relationship.
But now? Now, Pepper was still horny and the forty-five minutes she had left to play with him was something she was going to take advantage of.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Mornin’, babe. Time for me to go?”
“Actually, I have you for exactly forty-five more minutes. So, you know, have at me.”
“Just like that?” he said.
“Just like that, Parker. Get it hard. Put your schooling to good use.”
She spread her legs, tossed off the sheets and revealed a toned body that exposed her best assets—her breasts. She was aware of him looking at her and there was no question by the look in his eyes that what he saw was a feast.
If he was nothing else, he was a passionate machine, which Pepper enjoyed. For thirty minutes, she rode him, she straddled him, she went bottom’s up for him, she went down on him, she bit his ear, she tasted his tongue, she pulled his hair, she called out his name, she arched her back, and she came, came, came while continuing to check the time on the clock to make sure she didn’t overspend. As with all business deals, one had to keep a cap on expenses, which is something Pepper didn’t take lightly. When they had fifteen minutes left, she lifted her ass into the air and said, “Spank me.”
“Spank you? That’s new.”
“Spit on your hand and spank my ass.”
“You sure?”
“I’m not paying for your dawdling, Parker, and certainly not for your indecisions. You just wasted a minute. I get that minute back. That’s money in the bank for me, and you know what money and banks mean to me. Now―ow! What the hell? Ow!”
“Spank you like this,” he said. “And like this, you filthy bitch?”
She always wanted to do this, and now she knew why. It was exhilarating after the initial shock and sting. And the dirty talk was an unexpected bonus. “That’s right, but don’t be such a pussy about it.” She was breathless. “Don’t be such a girl, Parker. You’ve got some muscles in those arms. So spank me like you mean it!”
He walloped her ass, leaving it red and tingling while sending her to the edge again. He spanked her harder, and she moaned. He spanked her left buttock with the back of his hand and this time she lifted her ass higher into the air.
“Now, eat me. Come on, Parker. Get your tongue in there and send me to the moon.”
When she had two minutes left and three orgasms under her belt, she clapped her hands, moved away from his smeary mouth and hopped off the bed. “That was sweet,” she said, handing him a Kleenex from the bedside table. “And we have two minutes left. Score.”
He wiped his mouth. “Did I hit you too hard?”
“That’s a question I never want to hear again. I asked for it. I could have taken it harder. But you’ll learn. I want to shake things up between us. Next time, who knows what I’ll ask you to do―or what I’ll do to you. So, give me a kiss and be on your way. I’ll be in touch soon.”
She tried not to look at him while he dressed because, if the truth was known, she was attracted to him and she liked him more than she should. It didn’t matter to her that he was a whore—she enjoyed being with him.
What she loathed is that she knew she felt this way because it was the old Penelope Redman slipping in. The girl who could never land the hot boy. The former fat girl who barely spoke. The mousy nobody who had zero friends until she lost the chunk, got herself into shape, worked some magic with her makeup, styling and hair, and went to Wharton with a new attitude. There, they loved her so much, they started calling her Pepper, because as competitive as that school was, few were as competitive as Pepper Redman.
“You know,” Parker said, “it’s been over a year now. You don’t have to pay me anymore if you don’t want to.”
They’d been down this road before and Pepper literally had to haul herself out of the conversation because what he was proposing was something the old Penelope would have leaped at in a minute. “Look, Parker.” She stopped. “Is that even your real name?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“Manny.”
“Look, Parker,” she said. “That’s a sweet offer, but to what end?”
“I could spend more time with you,” he said. “We’d have something normal together.”
“So, you’re talking about a relationship again? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“If you wanted one. I think a lot of you, Pepper.”
“And I think a lot of you, Parker. That’s why I hire you every two weeks to come and fuck me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way.”
“But that’s what it is. We fuck, we each get to come multiple times, and you get a lot of money. You just slapped my ass and called me a filthy bitch for God’s sake. That isn’t romance. That’s a hearty good time.”
“I thought you’d like the last part.”
“Calling me a filthy bitch? I loved it. What you need to understand is that there’s a reason I come to you. But my focus is on my career right now. As much as I’d like to have a relationship, I can’t get involved with someone now. Especially right now. I like things as they are. Don’t you? The money is good, isn’t it? Do you want more?”
He finished buttoning his pants and ran a hand through his hair. “Money isn’t everything, Pepper.”
“Come again?”
“I said that money isn’t everything.”
“I must be going deaf because I know I didn’t just hear that.”
He smiled at her. “I’d like things better if we could be together.”
“But we are together. And you get to walk out of here with a fat check that helps to pay your rent. I understand why you do this. I know you went to NYU, I know you tried to find a suitable job when you realized that being an out-of-work actor wasn’t for you, and I know how difficult it is to find a job in this economy. You’re just doing what you have to do to keep the bills paid. Without a relationship, you can earn more money. You can do it with other women—I’m perfectly fine with that. Obviously. Why cheat yourself out of a good life just so you can be with one person? You have all of New York at your feet. And believe me, the women in this town will bow to kiss those feet. And probably suck your toes while they’re at it, just like I did a few minutes ago.”
He looked disappointed, but she was finished playing therapist. She was no Dr. Pepper. She got out of bed and walked across the room to one of the chairs at the far end of it. Her robe was there. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror as she put it on without tying it and decided that she could understand his attraction to her, even if her curly red hair was now a hot mess. She reached for her checkbook on the vanity, scribbled out an amount much higher than Parker’s usual rate, signed her name to it and ripped the check out of the book. She walked over and handed it to him.
“I don’t want it.”
“Don’t be foolish. Look at the tip.”
“I want you, Pepper.”
She put the check in his hand. “I’m a little hard to get right now.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Work,” she said. “I’ve been given a few great opportunities and I can’t blow them. My life is work and sometimes, every other week, I splurge and spend a wild night with you.” She lifted herself on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for the spanking. And dinner. And all of it. I’ll see you soon?” she asked.
“You can see me tonight, if you want.”
Jesus fucking Christ. “Two weeks,” she said. “And two weeks after that, it’s going to be more than just dinner and a fuck. Though I hope there’s time to squeeze t
he last part in.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say ‘fuck.’ You make what we have seem so mechanical. What’s going on?”
She told him.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner? That’s incredible. And on Fifth?”
“On Fifth. I’m trying to keep it under wraps until a formal announcement is made, which should be any day now.”
“And you want me to be your escort that night?”
“Why stop now?”
He smiled at that and she could tell that she’d just made his day. “I’ll need a tux for this, right?”
“You will and I’ll pay for it. Just send me the bill.”
He came over and put his arms around her. “I’ll pay for it.” He paused. “You know something? I think I—”
“Don’t say it, Parker. I don’t feel the same way. This is just business. I just need you to stay in the gym and look pretty. That’s all. I’ll do the same. Other than a good lay, that’s all I want from you. Nothing more. I hate to sound harsh, but right now, I need to be direct because I need to reel you into the reality of our situation. It will never, ever lead to anything more than what we have now—an arrangement.”
She squeezed his hand but he didn’t squeeze back. She walked him to the door, said she’d see him soon and then, when the door finally clicked shut behind him, she rushed to the shower.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
High above the Redman International Building in his penthouse suite, George Redman jogged on his treadmill while he watched the news on the television opposite him.
Whichever channel he chose, it was unavoidable. The news was all about the three deaths on Anastassios Fondaras’ yacht and the message that was spray-painted on the tarp covering his daughter’s new hotel on Park.
The papers he read this morning showed photographs of Fondaras, his ship and also his daughter. Whenever she was mentioned, what once happened to the Redman family was noted, with some writers and commentators wondering if they were being targeted again in spite of the fact that Louis Ryan was dead and that Leana was shrewdly saying the message on the tarp was just a prank.
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