Read Caress Part One (Arcadia) for Free Online

accent.
    “Lucas, so good to hear from you,” he said with an
undercurrent of amusement. Bastard knew I’d be in touch. “How are things in New
York?”
    I matched his tone. “They’re great, Yuri. Couldn’t be
better. I had dinner last night with a mutual acquaintance of ours--Chase
Hollis. You remember him?”
    “Chase, of course. How’s that little investment firm of his
doing?”
    I knew damn well that Yuri was well aware of how well
Hollis’ brilliant investment strategies were paying off because Yuri was one of
his clients. So was I. In addition, Chase and I were friends, the real kind.
    Still, I was willing to play along. “Beating all the
averages by a mile. But here’s the thing. Chase mentioned that you’re still
unhappy about that Qatari prince snapping up the property you wanted.”
    As in unhappy enough to be royally pissed off at me for
refusing to undercut the deal. According to Chase, who was one of few people I
trusted explicitly, Yuri had taken to wondering out loud if no one would rid
him of my troublesome self.
    We both got, as Yuri undoubtedly intended, the reference to
Henry II’s bemoaning of his problems with the Archbishop of Canterbury back in
the 12th century. Shortly thereafter, several knights eager to curry the king’s
favor had taken it upon themselves to slaughter the archbishop, hacking him to
death in front of the altar of Canterbury Cathedral. As professional
relationships went, that one could be said to have ended badly.
    The problem was that there were men--and women, Yuri was a
true equal opportunity employer--in the Russian’s circle with a mentality no
different from that of Henry’s ambitious knights. Yuri knew that better than
anyone because he’d made use of them in the past to deal with various
annoyances.
    “Oh, yes,” he said as though he’d only just remembered. “The
Qatari. More money than taste, if you ask me. Are you calling to tell me that
Prince Rashid has changed his mind?”
    “No, Yuri, I’m not. I’m calling to say that I get it, you’re
pissed. No one likes to be disappointed. But this is New York and something
better will come along.”
    I wasn’t entirely sure why Yuri wanted yet another property
in the city. He already owned several, all spectacular. But he’d made it clear
that he was in the market for something truly special and he wanted it pronto.
    Sounding slightly mollified, he asked, “Then I’m assured of
your best efforts?”
    “Absolutely. In fact, I’m working on something right now
that makes what Rashid got look like a walk-up in the Bronx.”
    That was a bit of an exaggeration. Prince Rashid had
purchased all four of the penthouse apartments available in a building
currently under construction on Central Park South and was planning to turn
them into single blow-out residence. He’d paid an obscene amount for that coup,
something I knew because I’d handled the deal on both ends.
    Nonetheless, the Russian chuckled. He and the Qatari owned
rival European football teams, which made losing out to the prince all the
harder to take. I should have realized that without needing death threats,
however obscure, to get my attention.
    “I knew I could count on you,” Yuri said.
    Apparently, he’d decided to let bygones be bygones.
Assuming, of course, that I delivered for him. But then everything in my world
was conditional on that, all the time. I accepted it as a simple fact of the
reality I lived in.
    We chatted a little longer, him trying to tease out details
of the property and me being coy. I did drop him one little hint.
    “You ever watch old movies, Yuri? Say from the 1950s?”
    I knew perfectly well that he did and more, that he was a
particular fan of Margo Stark, the actress who had owned the tower apartment in
the Arcadia.
    He hesitated a moment, then said, “On occasion I do.”
    “I thought I might kick back this weekend and watch a
couple.”
    “While you’re working on finding me the right property,”