Prince of Midtown / Marriage, Manhattan Style: Prince of Midtown. Jennifer Lewis
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don’t doubt you’ll succeed.”
“I intend to, but I’m used to building from scratch, not fixing something that’s broken. I need your advice on how to turn the individual companies around, and fast.”
“Hmm.” Reed tapped his gold pen on his blotter. “If I were you, I’d start by scheduling a meeting with the President and CEO—or their equivalents—of each company within Caspia Designs. Get them all together and read them the riot act.”
“I’ve already asked Tessa to schedule a meeting.”
“Excellent. At that meeting, challenge them to come up with ten ways to immediately increase market share and profitability in their own company.” He gave Sebastian a series of examples of companies who’d effected a similar change by bringing in experienced managers or reinventing their product for modern markets. “You could hire a consulting firm to investigate and give you additional ideas.”
“I prefer to solve our problems internally. These are all businesses with quality products. They’ve been resting on their laurels, and it’s time to shake them up.”
“I can see them shaking already. You can do anything you set your mind to. Even snowboarding down Kilimanjaro.” He leaned back with a wistful smile.
Sebastian’s chest filled with regret that his friend had missed the experience. “You should have been there.”
Reed looked away, picked up a pen and tapped it on his blotter. “Yes. Well. I have other commitments now.” A muscle twitched at his temple. His blue gaze seemed less bright than usual.
“How is Elizabeth? I haven’t seen her in a long time. Is she still your secret weapon on the doubles court, as well as the love of your life?”
Reed’s eyes crinkled. “She sure is. We’ll have to get together for a game sometime with you and whoever your current mixed-doubles partner is.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I’m playing singles at the moment. Got business to take care of.”
“Even if we don’t see you on the courts, you must come to our anniversary party.”
“What is it, three years?”
“Five.” Reed’s jaw stiffened.
Not the most reassuring indication of marital bliss.
“That’s great.” He leaned over the desk and slapped Reed on the arm. Tried to sound enthusiastic. “Just let me know where to show up. And you know the two of you have an open invitation to visit Caspia again whenever you like.”
“I’ll take you up on that soon. Right now I’m in the throes of starting a new company. It’s sucking up even more of my free time than all that partying we used to do when we were younger.”
“Who says I’ve stopped?” Sebastian raised a brow.
“You always did have impressive stamina. One day you’ll meet a woman you actually want to stay home with.”
“So they tell me, but I don’t plan to wave the white flag of surrender anytime soon.”
The doorman pulled open the door and Sebastian stepped into the lobby of his building. Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s two fluffy white dogs stopped scratching at the priceless Oriental rug and turned to growl at him.
If that woman led him around on a string all day, he wouldn’t be in a good mood, either. Sebastian shot the dogs a sympathetic glance.
“Prince Sebastian!” Vivian turned to him with a winning smile. Or had too much plastic surgery left her expression permanently fixed like that?
“Hello, Vivian.”
“How lovely to see you here. I noticed you haven’t been around much lately.”
“I’ve been in Caspia.”
“Ahh.” Her dogs lunged at his pant leg, yowling and snapping at the end of their embroidered leashes. “I read about those nasty storms in the Mediterranean. I do hope Caspia didn’t suffer too much damage.”
“There were some losses to the olive crops, but happily no one was hurt.”
“What a relief. Backward countries do seem to suffer the most from these things.”
Sebastian’s hackles shot up. “Caspia is in no way backward. If you were to visit…” Perish the thought. “You’d find a thriving, modern country on the brink of becoming one of the prime luxury tourist destinations in the world.”
“How charmingly passionate you are about your homeland.”
Sebastian glanced up to see if the elevator was coming. Yes, thank God.
The doors opened and Vivian’s paisley skirt swirled about her ankles as she walked in. Her dogs yapped around Sebastian’s ankles, loud in the enclosed space.
“Hold the elevator!” A deep voice rang across the marbled lobby.
Sebastian looked up to see Gage Lattimer diving past the doorman.
Vivian’s dogs diverted their hostile intentions to him. Fortunately for Sebastian, Vivian followed suit.
“Why, Gage, our man of mystery. I was just chatting with Prince Sebastian.” She shone that fixed smile on him. “He should be a role model to you. He does live up to his clean-cut image.”
Clean-cut? Sebastian resisted the urge to test his chin for stubble. He’d been called a lot of things, but clean-cut wasn’t one of them. Maybe she meant the suit?
He shot a puzzled look at Gage.
“Are you implying something?” Gage raised an eyebrow at Vivian.
“Moi?” She forced a laugh. “Of course not. I believe people’s personal affairs should be kept private.”
Gage shook his head.
An awkward silence thickened in the air. Well, not exactly silence, what with all the growling.
Sebastian’s muscles unwound a bit when the elevator reached his floor. He held the door open for Vivian to exit, her leashed demons scampering ahead of her.
Unfortunately they lived on the same floor.
Happily the walls were thick.
Her dogs wiggled with excitement as she fumbled in her purse for her key. They actually looked sort of adorable for once and he couldn’t resist crouching to pet one of the fluffy fur balls.
It turned and snapped at him, almost catching his finger.
Never mind.
Sebastian’s apartment had a neglected air. His former house sitter, Carrie Gray, hadn’t left his employ to marry that long ago, but already stacks of unopened mail tilted precariously on the hall table. He picked an envelope off the top and ripped it open.
“You are cordially invited to celebrate the landmark status of our building.”
He snorted.
Yes, 721 Park Avenue was a beautiful building, but it probably wasn’t much over a hundred years old. Parts of the royal palace in Caspia were rumored to be five thousand years old.
That was a landmark.
He flung the envelope back on the pile and lifted his foot to step over the bag he’d dropped in the foyer the night before. He’d gone straight from the plane to the office to an all-night party and hadn’t had time to unpack. It was inconvenient having no one to do it for him.
But the bag wasn’t there.
Did he hear voices?
He did. Female voices.
Interesting. Especially since he hadn’t brought anyone home last night.
Anticipation pricked through him as he walked down the