215 Lexington Ave Novels & Stories

“Am I in your place?” “My penthouse, yes.” “And where is your penthouse, exactly?” “Don’t worry, you’re still in New York. 420 Park Avenue, to be exact.” My jaw drops. That’s in the Billionaires’ Row. “Why did you bring me here?” He puts the iPad down on the table next to him. “I suppose you wouldn’t want your roommate to see you in my arms.” “Of course,” I whisper. Whitlock is a short distance away from the apartment. Someone else might walk by and see us, if not Lora. His sentence, though, causes a hitch in my throat. “In your what?”

I know their company will also earn lot of benefits since we are stable in this field of business and we are on the midst of expanding our brand. I open the next folder. It’s Mr. Andrew Fontanella's whereabouts. I was quiet familiar to some of his assets like the island they owned in Palawan, Philippines and ofcourse the multi- billion dollar worth Fontanella Group of Companies. I was surprised to know that they also owned several properties here in New York. Including the very popular Grand Central Tower located at Time Square. It is a high rise condominium offers first class services and high-end facilities to rich and famous, mostly billionaires. I felt proud of Wesley for owning one unit

A rlington Avenue, might be one of the easy going towns in Brooklyn, New York, but deep inside its heart laid one of the dopest buildings in all of Brooklyn, the lighthouse. The lighthouse made more crazy noise than the entire Yankee stadium and had more lightening on its dance floor than ‘club la-vela,’ the largest nightclub in the United States of America.

"But we both know neither of us would keep that promise. We're here to end this, Damian. We're not leaving until Evan and preferably Richard are both dealt with." Before he could respond, Lena called out from her makeshift command center. "Got visual on Evan's building. Pulling up exterior cameras now." We crowded around her screens, watching as she cycled through different angles of a elegant limestone building in the heart of the 8th arrondissement. The kind of place that housed diplomats and wealthy expatriates, where privacy was valued and security was discreet but thorough. "Fifteenth floor, southwest corner apartment," Lena said, highlighting specific windows.

Present What the hell? The taxi came to a stop at 1214 Fifth Avenue under a canopy, upon a private drive. "Are you sure this is the right place?" "Yes, ma'am. Let me get your bags." I trailed behind, my mouth agape as I backed onto the sidewalk, craned my neck up and up and up. The blue sky framed the glistening glass building. It was different than the traditional elegance I associated with New York and the Upper East Side. Most of the buildings were made of stone and brick with artistry and craftsmanship rarely seen anymore. This was the Museum Mile, Central Park, and all things refined.

It brings out your eyes when you’re lying. My fingers go numb. I stare at the last one. How the hell does he know what tie I picked? I hadn’t even decided until I knotted it. I shove the phone in my pocket and head out. The drive to Victoria Island is a blur of okada swerving between cars and hawkers balancing trays of plantain chips. Apex Ventures looms at the end of Ozumba Mbadiwe Avenue,glass and steel stabbing into the sky, the kind of building that screams money and secrets. I badge in at 7:58, nod to security, take the lift to the 14th floor. Open-plan chaos already in motion: analysts shouting over cubicle walls, coffee machines hissing, printers spitting reports.

Zeke's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white with tension. "Do you think this could be a trap?" I asked, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at me since we received the message. "It's possible," Zeke admitted, his eyes never leaving the road. "But we can't afford to ignore it. We need to find out what's going on." We arrived at 1457 Lexington Avenue, a sleek, modern building that stood out among the older structures on the street. As we stepped out of the car, I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something off about this whole situation.

Too few for those with one hundred floors, but forty-five is no laughing matter. She waited for how many minutes before reaching the top level, and when she glanced at her wristwatch, it was about 7:20 a.m. When the elevator doors opened, she bit her lower lip. She stepped out of it with wide-open eyes and a gaping mouth. If Ace Matthew truly owned this enclosed structure above the LEX building, he would be extremely wealthy. Typically, penthouses are the largest, most opulent, and hence most expensive apartments in a structure. In New York, penthouse residences are extremely popular.

The blueprints were spread out, the address printed clearly at the top. Beatrice walked over to the desk and looked down at the papers. "So," she said, tapping a manicured fingernail on the blueprint, "this is the apartment you are designing for her?" "Yes," I said, walking over. "Zyran bought it today. It’s a rush job, but I’m going to make it beautiful. I want her to feel comfortable." Beatrice read the address on the paper: 1402 Lakeview Drive, Penthouse B. She froze.

I have spent the past week trying to scrub the existence of Elias Arden from my brain with an iron sponge and is I have to face him now, I’m not sure if I have enough composure left to stand on his doorstep without it showing, and showing it is not something I am prepared to do right now. I close my eyes for a brief moment, take a deep breath and start walking again. I’ll deal with it if it happens. Crane Street is in the part of the lower east side that sits just past the point where the neighborhood stops pretending to be transitional and settles into what it actually is, narrow buildings close together, the kind of street where the trees are small and the gutters collect things, and every