When the elevator doors opened, Agostini finally put her back on her feet. Princess stopped still and her jaw dropped.
She stood and stared silently at the massive glass box on the side of the high, airy room, the plain two-story-high windows. Through them, she saw clear across Central Park.
The view stretched right over the roads and the lakes of the park, from the rooftop ridges of the Metropolitan Museum, past the zoo and all the way downtown.
The green roof of the Park Plaza Hotel, with the huge black rectangle looming behind it, the gleaming silver curves of the Time Warner Center towers, the farther, smaller peaks of the Rockefeller Center, the Empire State, and the Chrysler all spread in front of her.
She hadn’t yet moved from the elevator, and she could see almost all of Manhattan. Silently drawn across the thick, pale carpet to the windows, she was wide-eyed as she traced Broadway to Times Square and way beyond. She searched out landmarks of the financial district that was her home.
The windows were high, clear glass walls of a gallery that stretched up beyond the height of the spacious room. Princess stepped slowly toward the raised terrace. As she moved toward the glass, her chest tightened.
The platform leading up to the window was obviously safe, but her body tensed as she approached it. Stepping up, she realized that the floor of the gallery was glass, too, and she saw the sheet of sheer, shining glass all the way to the ground.
Outside the glass box, an open terrace a few feet wide—also made entirely of glass—appeared to wrap the whole way around the building. Princess’ heart beat hard.
The height of the platform and the clarity of the view, coupled with the illusion that her feet were high in midair, made her stomach leap in a dizzying flip.
Princess’ shoulders tensed when Pierce spoke, as though he shook her from a dream. “Let me show you around.”
He was behind her with his hand outstretched, palm up. His eyes smiled. Princess wouldn’t take his hand, but she followed him and allowed him to lead her across the carpeted sunken living area.
A wide flight of open steps in pale wood stuck out of the far wall and rose to the space above. Princess followed him across the wide living space.
“Remotes for the entertainment center are all around.” He picked up a small tablet, showed it to her and put it down. “They know which room they’re in, so if you take one from here into the kitchen area or a study it will just work in there.”
“A study?”
He looked back at her and shrugged. “I work hard, I play hard. Feel free to join in or just, you know, veg and goof off. You like some champagne? Calhoun, crack out some champagne.”
He led her through the wide open kitchen area with dark granite surfaces and ultra-modern equipment. One of the bouncers, Calhoun, handed a flute of champagne to her and another to Agostini.
He raised his glass to her. “Whatever the circumstances, you’re our guest, and it’s a pleasure to have you here.”
She lifted her glass and said, “We’ll see about that.”
She followed him down a few steps to an airy corridor. Pointing to a tablet screen he told her, “All the tablets work as phones, of course.”
She said, “For my one phone call?”
He stopped and turned. “You can make all the calls you want, Princess. Call anyone.”
She frowned and waited.
“Obviously,” he said, “I wouldn’t suggest you encourage people to come around visiting. Not unless you want to watch them make a twelve-hundred-foot swan dive. You like some lox with cream cheese on a bagel?”
“Suppose I told the police I was here.”
“Is that something that would interest them, do you think?”
“If I were being held against my will, it might.”
“Good thing you aren’t, then.” He led her on down a carpeted hallway to a pair of wide, lacquered doors, which he swung open. “Your dungeon,” he inclined his head, “madam.”
Inside was a sumptuous suite. A huge, high, canopied bed with muslin drapes and silk pillows and throws dominated the main area. The side wall was a floor to ceiling window. To the right was a dressing room with a dressing table and a walk-in closet.
The tan tiled bathroom had a claw-footed bath and a three-hundred-sixty degree shower. Left of the bedroom area was a lounge at a sunken level, with a desk on one side and a coffee table, a sofa and armchairs, and its own glassed-in balcony.
A glass terrace wrapped around the balcony, just like the one off the main room. Princess tried to guess if they were at the same height. If they were connected.
She turned to him and pouted. “I expect your own suite is much bigger and nicer.”
His eyes rolled. “No, Princess, I always put my captives and kidnap victims in the better rooms. It’s so they’ll give me a nice character testimony if it comes to court.”
“At least you don’t pretend there’s nothing wrong in what you’re doing.” She scowled at him.
“Oh, you mean like the bankers who come to your daddy’s club and pretend they’re not doing anything wrong?”
“I was thinking more of the other criminal lowlifes.”
Pierce narrowed his eyes. “Princess, I have to admire your complete disregard for your own personal safety.”
“You won’t hurt me. You can’t afford to. Not while you still need Daddy’s cooperation.” Saying, ‘Daddy’ to this gangster was starting to feel odd to her.
“You push your luck, Princess. Something untoward happens to you, it could be a while before your daddy gets to know about it.”
He was in the doorway with his hands clasped together and asked her, “Shall I call the cops now, or would madam prefer to wait until after breakfast?”
She scowled at him.
He said, “There will be food in the kitchen if you want some. Although, of course, help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge anytime.”
He bowed as he backed out and closed the double doors. As soon as the doors shut, she rushed to them and pulled on the handles, sure he would have locked her in.
The doors flew open and she staggered back. Agostini was still in the hallway with a grin that made her want to slap him. “Something else that you’d like?” He lifted an eyebrow. “A pot of Earl Grey perhaps, or some cucumber sandwiches?”
With her teeth clenched and her cheeks prickling, Princess slammed the doors shut again. It was going to take some willpower to get through this.
She knew that she had to be honest with herself; there was no use pretending. He was smoking hot. Her pants were on fire for him.
There. Now she had admitted it to herself and maybe she could figure herself a way out of this.
Down in her lounge area, Princess made for the window. There was that balcony outside, but she couldn’t see any way to get there. It didn’t make sense.
The glass parapet was maybe four feet high. It would be scary and dangerous, but it did look as though it would wrap around, so maybe it could be a way out.
It could work if it went around to a service entrance, maybe. Or even another penthouse. The building could have two properties exactly like this, or maybe four. From inside, she had no way to tell.
Then she remembered the bathroom window. Princess hurried into the bathroom. The window looked as though it should open, but it seemed to be jammed shut, whether by paint or perhaps just because it was never opened.
No matter how hard she twisted the handle and yanked on it, the window wouldn’t budge. On the desk in her lounge, she remembered a letter opener.