Page 38 of Disavowed

“I’ll be fine.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, then pulled open the door. “Could you help me up? It’s tough getting into this truck wearing a dress and high heels.”

When she held out her hand, he took it but frowned. Then his eyes tracked down and up her body, and the corners of his mouth lifted. “Yes, but you do wear them well.”

“Why, thank you.” She smiled back and pulled in her legs, which Jack was also watching. It was nice to be appreciated by a man without him automatically trying to jump her bones.

He came around the front of the truck, then got in and cranked the engine. The truck rumbled and shook as he guided it onto the busy street. For the next few minutes, he said nothing. A muscle at his jaw flexed repeatedly. Something was bugging him, and Daisy intended to find out what.

“Are you going to tell me who that man was today?” she prodded.

“Just an old colleague.” He turned onto Fifth Avenue. “Not someone I’m particularly fond of.”

“No kidding.” She grabbed the door’s side handle as he made a sharp turn to avoid a cab that cut them off. “That guy was creepy.”

At the next red light, he gripped her arm so hard she flinched. “You don’t ever have to worry about him. He won’t be back.” The icy look he gave her sent a brief chill up her spine. Subdued anger simmered in his eyes, although she didn’t sense it was directed at her. “I’ll make sure of it,” he added. When a horn honked behind them, he returned his eyes to the road.

The south end of Central Park came into view, as did the Piazza. Each time Daisy came to this majestic landmark she was more in awe than the last. The hotel was truly magnificent.

Situated at Central Park and Fifth Avenue, New York’s finest hotel had recently undergone a four hundred million-dollar renovation from top to bottom. With its classical architecture, it was a tribute to the history of New York City and embodied all the elegance expected of a five-star hotel.

Jack parked on the side street next to the hotel and shut off the engine. He hopped out and came around to the passenger side where Daisy had already opened the door. She paused before getting out, glancing up at the nineteen-story structure.

When Jack held out his hand, she hooked her bags over her shoulder and let him help her down. “Thank you,” she said, although her attention was still glued to the grand structure that took up an entire city block.

He shut the door behind her. “I’m not sure if the manager wants me to unload the urns to see how they look in place, or whether he wants to look at them in the back of the truck first.”

“Let’s go inside and track down Andrew.” She led the way to the main entrance, bypassing the magnetometers that wouldn’t be operational until the opening.

A man wearing a classic burgundy doorman’s jacket and black cap held open a large glass door. No sooner had they entered the foyer than she was awed yet again by the hotel’s stately grandeur.

Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, catching the light and sparkling like diamond clusters. Mahogany wall paneling contrasted with the gleaming white marble floors. Through one of the arched doorways was the Rose Club, an elegant venue hosting famed jazz musicians from around the country. With its red velvet drapes and matching red leather chairs, it embodied the classically dark intimacy of a traditional Southern jazz club.

All around them the hotel buzzed with activity. Workers rolled boxes, wooden crates, and supplies in every direction. On one side of the hotel’s main entrance someone was polishing the marble floors, and on the other, two men carefully hung a massive portrait of Fiorella La Guardia, New York City’s ninety-ninth mayor.

“This place is really something.” Jack looked up at the stained-glass ceiling.

“That it is.” She turned in each direction to take it all in, suddenly realizing there was none of the sanding going on that Jack had warned her about. The inside air was fresh and clear. “Guess they’re not sanding today after all.” She looked at him, but his gaze was focused across the lobby on a group of men, including Andrew, wearing dark suits. Very expensive dark suits, if she was correct in her fashion assessment. She’d been around the rich New York City set long enough to recognize a designer label, even in menswear.

One man in particular stood out. Literally. He was tall and fit, with silver hair, and he towered above the others. But it wasn’t just his physical presence that was so eye-catching. It was his overall demeanor. The aura he exuded was one of confidence and power.

Dom exuded those same traits, but in an entirely different way. His mannerisms were protective and heroic. This man’s were arrogant and condescending.

“I think that’s Chris Shane.” One look at Jack told Daisy he’d already noticed the distinguished gentleman. He was staring, fixated on the group of men. “I’ve never met him personally, though.” She’d seen his photo in an article in New York Magazine, detailing the Piazza’s massive renovation. “He’s president and CEO of Fairhaven Hotels and Resorts. This is Shane’s flagship hotel. He footed a good portion of the bill for this renovation out of his own pocket.”

Jack whistled. “Chicken feed.”

“Golden chickens, maybe.” She nodded in agreement. “I read that the luxury suites were retrofit with 24-karat gold-plated sink fixtures.”

He snorted. “I’m just a truck driver. Doubtful I’ll ever be in a position to use a bathroom that cost more than two years of take-home pay.”

“Daisy!” Andrew broke from the group and walked briskly toward her. He hooked his arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Andrew.” She gestured to Jack. “This is my new driver, Jack Schneider.”

The two men shook hands, but Andrew barely looked at Jack and his demeanor was snooty and dismissive.

Andrew really is a snob. Just as Dom said he was.

“I have to apologize,” Andrew said, “but I’m swamped with meetings today. Did we have an appointment? I don’t remember seeing you on my calendar.”