Chapter Eleven
“Do you want a drink?”
Reid asks as he returns from closing the door behind Ivy and Heath. Anika and Luca left an hour before since they were still dealing with jet lag, but Ivy stuck around as though she wanted to watch over me. Or was waiting for the fa?ade of politeness to crack and the real fight to begin.
She finally gave up and I agreed with Reid earlier in the evening that we should talk when everyone left, so here I am in his Upper East Side palace of an apartment at midnight and I’m oddly anxious about the potential of being alone with him since I heard Jeremiah say something about going out.
Anxious in a weird, almost anticipatory way.
“Sure. I’ll take a little of whatever you’re having.”
I’d been surprised at the lack of wine at dinner. I suspected he was like a lot of Manhattan hosts, completely free with the booze and light on the actual food. Instead, we’d gotten some excellent tea and a truly lovely roast and potatoes and green beans almondine, complete with a delicious cheesecake I was assured is an Aggie special.
“I’m going to run Aggie home and stop by Harry’s.”
Jeremiah stands in the foyer, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He put on a jacket and is helping Aggie into her light coat.
“I told him I can take the subway,”
Aggie protests.
“Absolutely not,”
Reid insists. He moves toward the older woman. “Since you’re too stubborn to take one of the bedrooms here, you must allow Jer to take you home. You’re precious cargo. Thank you for everything this evening.”
I was surprised at how tender he was with the older woman. He checked on her several times this evening and helped her bring out the food, asking her to sit and eat with us when everything was served. I’d expected a host of servers, but it had been just us and Aggie.
She turns her head slightly, welcoming a light kiss on the cheek. “Well, it was fun to meet royalty. They were far more normal than I expected. Far kinder and more personable than many of your clients. You behave yourself, Reid Dorsey.”
Jeremiah frowns and glances back at me. “Yes, behave. I’m not sure I should leave the two of you alone.”
Aggie pats his shoulder. “They’ll be fine. Ms. Ross, it was lovely to meet you. He doesn’t mean half of what he says, but when he’s backed into a corner, he’s not sure how to get out.”
“I’m not in a corner,”
Reid grumbles.
I smile Aggie’s way. “It was nice to meet you. Dinner was excellent. Really, the best I’ve had in a long time.”
I missed a couple of Sunday dinners at Lydia’s because I was working, so I’ve been subsisting on ramen and takeout. Between preparing for the Banover Place job, fighting with my cousin over all things construction, and catching back up after the wedding, I haven’t spent much time doing anything but working, and I think that might have made me a wee bit cranky.
“Just remember what’s at stake,”
Jeremiah says cryptically as the elevator doors open.
“You do the same, brother,”
Reid replies as Jeremiah leads Aggie onto the elevator and we’re left alone. He turns my way. “Seriously? I shamed you for your boots? You couldn’t come up with anything else?”
I knew he wanted to call me out for that all night. It was kind of fun to pick at him.
“Probably, but why bother when it was right there?”
I ask. I’m surprisingly chipper after the talk with Luca, and honestly, the food worked wonders for me. “What were those things? The delicious things that were like bread but also not?”
Reid sighs and crosses over to the bar, pulling out two rocks glasses. “Are you talking about the Yorkshire pudding? It’s a common English comfort food. Luckily for us, Luca spent a lot of time in the UK, so he enjoys English food. Aggie is a very proper Brit.”
“She seems nice.”
I watch as he puts in a code to open the liquor cabinet. Odd. I guess he’s got the good stuff under lock and key so the servants don’t take a nip.
He pulls out what looks like old Scotch and pours a couple of fingers into each glass. “She is. She’s a lovely woman. She was our nanny’s sister. She came over to the States when Marilyn got sick and my father kicked her out. At the time Jer and I were at boarding school. We came home that summer to find my father had installed a new bang maid, and we were told we didn’t need a mother figure anymore. I had to enroll us both for fall semester and go to his accountant for the tuition.”
I hate when I feel for him. And I feel for him all the time. I take the glass when he passes it to me. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen,”
he replies, taking a sip. “Younger than this Scotch.”
“And what did you do?”
Somehow I don’t think he simply allowed it to pass.
“I found her. My father fired her without severance. He tossed her out like she never meant a thing, which I suppose she didn’t to him.”
Reid walks over to the windows that offer a spectacular view of Central Park. It’s dark now, illuminated by the moon and stars and the buildings around it. Reid stands in shadows as he speaks, his eyes on the park below. “The worst part was I contacted her often. We had a standing phone call. Once a week. The week before I was coming home, she confessed what happened. She only told me because she knew I was about to find out. Even when she was making not a dime from my family, she treated me like a son. I used the trust fund my grandfather left me to make her comfortable. She was in a filthy nursing home in hospice care because the cancer was too far gone. Sometimes I wish I’d been the one to take my father out, not some random heart attack.”
I have to check the instinct to move into his space and offer him comfort. The funny thing is I’m not naturally affectionate. That’s Ani’s job. She’s the most open and loving of us. Ivy and I can be standoffish, but I’m struggling with him. “I’m sorry but I’m glad she had you. I’m glad you had a trust fund you could help her with. At least you used your money for some good. I get requests for company cash all the time, but it’s about buying a new car or funding my cousin’s sorority life.”
He turns, frowning my way. “Company cash? Are you telling me your father wrote checks from the company to pay for personal business?”
I nod, glad at least someone understands the implications. “Yep. My father and uncle treated the business like their personal banking system and taught the family to do the same, and let me tell you, there are tax implications.”
“Damn straight there are.”
He moves back toward me, sinking down onto the sleek modern couch that dominates the room. “Are you seriously telling me your father used company funds to buy things for family members?”
“Oh yes.”
It’s good to know I can shock him. “You should understand that my father’s accountant at the time was one of his second cousins. I believe he called it dividends.”
“That’s not how it works,”
Reid says with a shake of his head. “A licensed accountant would know that.”
“I think they just call Carl an accountant,”
I admit. “He didn’t go to school or anything. You would not believe the uproar when I fired him and hired an actual accountant. You would have thought I burned the whole place down.”
“I suspect that’s when you had to deal with the aforementioned implications.”
“Oh, yes.”
I sit across from him, one big cushion between us. The light is low and it feels far too intimate, but I’m sure that’s only me. Or it’s how he wants it because he’s right back in control-the-rogue-girl mode. “I had to deal with the IRS. Naturally they didn’t audit the company until a year after my father passed. I had barely gotten my feet wet, and I had to deal with nearly losing everything. And my mother told me it was all my fault. I remember it vividly. She cried that they were going to take her house and all because I didn’t let Carl work his magic. His magic was to be incompetent at best, illegal at worst. But I got through it. Now I’m the mean lady who won’t pay their bills. It’s not easy being the villain in the family.”
“Don’t I know it,”
he says with a sigh. “Your company is still family held? You didn’t open it up to investors? I would think that would be a way to get out of having to foot the tax bill on your own.”
“Don’t think I didn’t float that idea around. I thought we should sell thirty percent of our shares to an outside investor. It would have given us an influx of cash and perhaps inroads to new business. That was the first time they threatened to put Paul in my seat. He turned them down because he knew what I was facing.”
“He knew he could potentially be in trouble,”
Reid replies with a shake of his patrician head. “He knew that whoever was in the CEO seat had a hard road ahead. So how did you manage it?”
“I sold some assets and some of my stock,” I admit.
“You took care of it personally, didn’t you?”
I shake my head. “Not all of it, of course, but some of it. My father left me a couple of properties. I had to sell them.”
“And what did the rest of the family pony up?”
I huff, a cynical sound. “Not a dime. They didn’t see the purpose. I was told I should fight the IRS. Like that wouldn’t have cost even more money, and we would be accruing interest the whole time.”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass. It makes me happy we never went past an LLC,”
he says, clearing his throat. “It seems like you have your hands full. How much stock did you have to give up? And I assume you had to sell it to a family member. So let me see if I understand. They bought your stock knowing you would have to use the money to get the company—that they also own—out of trouble? That sounds like family to me. I didn’t realize the Upper East Side rules were in play in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Your father wasn’t the only ruthless bastard out there,”
I reply. “Sometimes I think it would be a relief to let the whole thing go. Right now I still have the majority behind me, but my cousin is working on the rest of them,”
I admit. “I wasn’t lying about why I was in Jersey this afternoon. I can’t prove it, but I think Paul is sabotaging some of our jobs to make me look bad.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I lose control of the company and it goes under in three years,”
I reply. “My family depends on the company. Most of them are employed by the company, and even those who aren’t depend on the cash that comes from actual legal dividends. Losing the company would devastate my family.”
“That would not be your fault.”
Reid studies me for a moment. “And the real question is would it devastate you?”
He’s wrong about the fault because my father told me everything was my fault. If only he’d had a son… I shove the remembrance aside. I don’t need to have a therapy session with this man. Though it does seem he understands what it means to have a complex relationship with family. “I assure you everyone would blame me in the end. They always do. And the other part doesn’t matter. Now let’s stop procrastinating. How are we going to do this thing without making Anika’s life miserable?”
I need to think of the part of my family that actually brings me joy—the one I picked. I owe Anika.
“It’s simple,”
he replies. “We try to communicate like adults. We don’t maybe go straight to calling the other person a cheater.”
I wince. I was wrong about a lot of things today. “Sorry. I guess I misinterpreted the situation that night, but you can’t blame me.”
A brow rises. “I don’t see why not.”
“Because you were engaged to her,”
I point out. There are reasons I made that call, and a whole lot of it was about the choices Reid made. “Because the press all seems to think you’re on again. Because you dropped me like a hot potato the minute you had a hint that she wanted to see you. It’s okay. I get it. She’s a supermodel.”
His eyes roll. “She’s a mistake I made when I was at a low point in my life, and I’m still paying for it. I didn’t ask you to leave because I wanted to see her. She wasn’t supposed to be invited. I specifically asked the palace if she was. If I’d known she would show up, I would have sent my regrets.”
Somehow I can’t see this man missing the social event of a lifetime. “She came as someone’s plus one, from what I understand. And only to the reception. I think I would have noticed her.”
“She knew I would leave if she showed up at the ceremony. The reception wasn’t as formal, and she could slip in without immediately warning me of her presence. I’m lucky Jeremiah saw her or she would have caught me off guard. As it was, she still fucked everything up. I didn’t want to put you in the line of her fire. I told you I wanted to come back to your room after I dealt with her.”
“I would have been waiting a long time since you went to breakfast with her the next morning.”
I said no. She said yes. It was as simple as that.
He stares for a moment and then sits back and huffs. “If I told you I didn’t spend the night with her, would you believe me?”
“No.”
Why would I? I can’t imagine anyone saying no to that woman.
“Then I suppose you won’t believe me when I tell you that she comes back into my life when she feels the need to get some tabloid attention and I…”
He sits back. “Well, we both have family obligations and responsibilities, and it’s good to remember that. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is finding a way to work together because I have no intention of pissing off Luca St. Marten. So you’ve told me why it matters so much to you.”
“And you used it against me.”
I tip my glass his way in honor of his villainy. It had been a good play. Threw me right off my game.
He has the grace to flush. “Yeah, that wasn’t well done of me but you…you know how to push my every button. I know it will come as a shock to you, but I’m actually known for being something of a gentleman.”
“I thought you were known for being difficult to work with.”
I can throw things back at him, too.
His lips curl up in a smirk that holds not an ounce of humor. “I suppose so. Maybe you bring out the real me. The rat bastard selfish asshole.”
I’m screwing this up because talking about Britta unsettles me. The truth is I don’t know what to believe since I don’t think Luca would lie to me. He told me they weren’t together and hadn’t been. There’s a lot I don’t understand, and I shouldn’t. And yet I was there. I saw how fast he got rid of me. I saw the pictures of them having breakfast. So I’m antsy and I shouldn’t be because it doesn’t matter if he has a girlfriend. What does matter is finding a way to work with him. For Anika’s sake. For Banover Place. “I’m sorry. Luca told me about the sale, and I’m afraid it bothers me that I didn’t know. I thought I had a shot at talking you into sparing the place.”
Like I’m going to tell him the real reason. Hey, you kind of broke my heart and the fact that I still want you to kiss me makes me wonder who the hell I am. But also history.
“Sparing it.”
He sighs like I’m the worst. And I probably am in his head. “Spare it from what, Harper? From joining the modern age? Look, I am sorry I said those things to you earlier. I didn’t truly mean them. You made me feel small, and I did the same to you. I do understand what Banover means to you, but we don’t get to choose.”
“You mean I don’t get to choose.”
I can’t help the bitterness in my tone. “Whoever is laying out the cash definitely gets to choose. I’m sure you get to choose all the time.”
I’m the one who’s stuck in a corner, not Reid. I’m the one with no way to fight my way out.
“Far less than you would think,”
he replies. “Is there anything I can say that will make this easier on you? I’ve been tasked with turning Banover Place into a home where someone who is alive in this century can reside. I was given specific, if odd, instructions, and they change every day.”
“Can I meet with the buyer? Maybe I can explain why it would be best to keep the place as original as possible.”
“She’s in Europe. I think the owner is a she,”
he confesses. “I don’t know. We communicate through email. I sent her my presentation and she rejected it. Three times. I think we should be ready for her to decide she doesn’t need a ballroom.”
I sit up. “She wants to what? Get rid of the ballroom? Turn it into a mancave or maybe a bowling alley?”
“She wants to live at Banover Place with her family,”
Reid points out. “That means turning it into a functional space. I know you think it’s sacred, but it was only sacred to the people who lived there. Now it will be sacred to someone else, and that almost always means change. I’m sorry. Luca told me we should discuss what parts of the house you think we should try to preserve.”
That’s an easy answer. “All of it. If she doesn’t want a Gilded Age mansion, I could show her fifty contemporary brownstones that would suit her.”
He huffs, a deeply frustrated sound. “Harper, that’s what I’m trying so desperately to tell you. No one wants to live in a Gilded Age mansion today. They don’t need servant’s quarters and parlors. No one throws balls anymore. It needs to be functional. Have you thought about working on historical homes? I know some people who would love to consult with a woman of your skills. There are places right here in the city that are museums, and they need restoration. I can even likely find someone to fund it.”
It’s a nice offer and one that I’ll think about for a long time, but it’s a pipe dream. I build grocery stores and parking garages. “I have a job. I’m risking it by taking this much time off. The truth is this is a moment in time for me. I’ll never get the chance to do something like this again, and the idea that it’s turned into tearing down everything beautiful about the home makes me sad.”
He’s still, as though trying to decide if he wants to continue. “Do you really think it’s ugly? My designs? I’m genuinely asking. I have a thick skin. I’d like your opinion. If this was any other home, what would you think?”
I sit for a moment, formulating a response because this is an important moment. He’s been honest with me. He’s working for someone. I’ve made him out to be the all-powerful wizard, but there’s someone tugging on his strings, too. I sigh and decide to be utterly honest with the man. “I think the designs are beautiful. The funny thing is that whole bringing nature inside is something Ivy and I have talked about forever. When we discussed building our dream homes, she wanted a courtyard. I think it’s mostly because she wanted to be outside in a place where she didn’t have to deal with people. Anyway, that’s what the sketch reminded me of. But not in a ballroom. I don’t want to know what the owner is going to eventually do with it, do I?”
“I’m not sure they know yet,”
Reid replies, taking another sip. “And the great news is we have to pretend like it’s all my idea on camera. Like we’re coming up with it organically. I’m sure the last episode will be a bunch of people walking through the mansion like they’re thinking about buying it. And I’ll have to be there to show them through even though it’s already purchased.”
“It’s such a weird business.”
I’d been surprised at how they filmed The King Takes a Bride, the reality show that brought Luca and Ani together. If he hadn’t snuck into her room at night, they wouldn’t have had much time alone. But the man knew what he wanted. “I still don’t understand half of it. Some of the selection ceremonies took eight hours to film. And the dates were weird, too. It would look like they were alone, having a normal date, and yet they would stop every couple of minutes and adjust the lights. I have no idea how people fall in love like that.”
“I don’t think they normally do. I don’t actually watch those shows. My brother loves them, but I can’t see the appeal. I don’t believe many of the couples survive, though I think Ani and Luca are solid. Likely for the very reason you said. But it’s often that way with shows like this. Did you know on those house hunter shows the buyer has almost always already selected the home they want and they build the episode around it? It’s something like that. Television is too delicate an industry for the instability of actual reality.”
I suppose it’s about knowing the outcome and building toward it. It still feels wrong to me. “Was it like that on your show?”
“A bit,”
he admits. “Though most of our renovations were subsidized. There was a lot of work we didn’t show.”
I’m not sure I understand. “Like what? What do you mean by subsidized?”
He sets his Scotch down. “There were times in the second season when we worked in some rougher neighborhoods for people who couldn’t afford the basic stuff. Like the house we redid in Pittsburg for the firefighter and his family. We got in and realized he had a slab leak that was going to eat up his reno budget. So we handled that part for him along with replacing his HVAC. But those are not sexy things, so they don’t show up on air. Now if the client had the money to add to the budget, they certainly would have enjoyed filming the messy and complicated conversation that always happens when you tell a homeowner their house is sinking. It’s a lot of drama. However, in that case it would have ended the reno entirely, so they left it out.”
“But those repairs are necessary.”
Again, I’m seeing a man I like. Unfortunately, he shares a body and soul with one I don’t like. “It’s wonderful that you did that.”
“These shows run on the idea that anyone can do it. We had forty thousand for that reno. We’re selling the illusion that for forty K, you can transform your home. In some ways you can. Especially if you have the know-how and can do it yourself. There are ways to find what you need for far less than most have to spend. In others it’s pure fantasy. Most people don’t know how to install their own plumbing.”
I stare at him for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me you know how to install plumbing?”
His lips curl up in the sexiest grin. “Absolutely not. That’s why we have a contractor. My job is to design as beautiful a space as I can.”
He takes a long breath. “So I know why you do what you do and why Banover Place is important to you. Would you like to know my reasons?”
I try to think of something pithy to say, but the truth of the matter is I do want to know. “Hit me.”
“I got into design because I’ve always cared about the space around me. Even at a young age. I thought about things like curtains and carpet versus tile or hardwood. My grandmother was the only person in my family I was close to. She had the loveliest apartment on the west side. I felt comfortable there in a way I didn’t in this one. My mother had it done in all white at one point. When she left, my father didn’t care to change things, and none of his women lasted long enough to redo the place, so Jeremiah and I grew up worried constantly we would ruin the expensive pieces that made up our home. It was more like a museum.”
“That’s funny. I kind of thought this place looked like a museum.”
His brow arches again, and I’m coming to understand this is his I’m offended face. “It certainly does not. I admit to having a high level of aesthetic, but everything is comfortable. Everything in this place was selected with comfort and durability in mind. When designing for myself I tend to go with what makes me feel good. I would never put tile or hardwood in my own bedroom because I like the feel of plush carpet under my feet when I wake up in the morning. I like to sit for a moment and wriggle my toes in it. I like this couch because when I fall asleep on it, my legs don’t hang off. I like knowing my brother and I took this place and made it ours after years and years of feeling like we didn’t belong here.”
“It is comfy.”
I don’t like how the idea of Reid working late and falling asleep on the couch makes me warm. I don’t like how soft I get when I think about Reid as a child trying so desperately to not make a mess. Kids should be allowed to be messy. “And I love the dining room. The table has a mid-century feel.”
“Because my grandmother bought it in 1956,”
he admits. “She died fifteen years ago. This was before our father passed away, and Jeremiah was living with her since dear old dad made it clear we were on our own after we turned eighteen. Luckily, we both had trust funds, and I used part of mine to go to Parson’s. Jer moved in with Grandma halfway through his last year of high school, and he lived in that apartment for several years after she died. Then we inherited this place, and it made more sense for us both to live here than it did to sell it or buy the other out, and when we moved, Jer brought the table with him. Says it makes him feel likes she’s still there, still sitting beside him telling him he needs to eat more.”
I sit up because if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to repeat the mistakes of Ralavia. I toss back the rest of my drink and stand. “Okay, we will be civil and make this work. I promise not to get in your way. I’ll cry silently at the atrocities I’ll be forced to commit in the name of design.”
He stands as well, setting his glass down on the table. I’m surprised he doesn’t have coasters. I would have thought he was a coaster man, but now that I’ve heard his story, I guess he’s not as uptight as he seems. “And I will ignore your silent crying like the asshole I’m known to be.”
He sighs. “I don’t suppose we should talk about the whole wild-chemistry thing we have going.”
“Absolutely not.”
If there’s one thing I want to avoid, it’s making a fool of myself over this man, and opening the door even a crack will lead to destruction. “We are going to utterly ignore it. It’s a flash fire, and the only thing it could lead to is both of us getting burned.”
“Or if we found a way to tame it, it might keep us warm for a long time,”
he says quietly, and then seems to shake off some unnamed feeling. He holds out a hand. “But you’re right. Ignoring it is the best path forward. So we have a deal?”
I nod and reach for his hand. “We do. For Ani’s sake.”
I try not to think about the wave of warmth I feel the minute my skin touches his.