215 Lexington Ave Novels & Stories

I left the penthouse before the sun fully rose. I didn't pack a bag. That felt too final. I just took my purse, my sketchbook, and the folded lease Elias had given me. I took a taxi to Chelsea. I didn't want to use the town car. I didn't want Leo reporting my location to Julian. The building was a converted warehouse on 25th Street. It was brick and iron, gritty on the outside but gentrified on the inside.

Rex nodded at me before he opened the door. "Morning, Ms. Flora." I slid into the backseat while clutching my large purse tightly. "Good morning," I returned. The entire ride was silent. We pulled up to the gleaming high-rise in the financial district, with the name "Romano Incorporation" displayed in large silver letters above the top five floors. My stomach heaved as I rode the elevator to the top floor. The doors opened to reveal a space that screamed money and power. It was all glass, chrome, and expensive artwork. These were details I hadn’t been able to take in the other night.

I get into one not long after I arrive. My first destination is my sister, Kimberly. She's the first person I had in mind to talk with first before going to Sebastian's apartment and I know the universe knows why. Perhaps I need some advice and encouraging words. Maybe I need it to prepare myself for facing Sebastian. The cab stops in front of my destination. A tall and overtowering building that seems to pierce through the Earth's dome. New Yorkers call it The Steinway Tower. Known for having the most expensive penthouse in Manhattan. Of course my sister doesn't own that kind of penthouse. I know she only lives in one of the apartments.

“You could just not go.” “And deal with them showing up at my apartment at midnight? No thanks.” “So we’re going to the mansion.” “We’re going to the mansion.” The drive takes forty minutes with traffic. Forty minutes of Derek trying to make small talk about work, about the Knicks, about anything except the Maya-shaped elephant in the car. I appreciate the effort even if it’s transparent. Mom and Lucas’s penthouse is in Tribeca, all glass and steel and the kind of view that reminds you money can buy happiness, or at least a really good imitation of it.

--- The cab halted in front of one of the oldest and most luxurious apartment buildings along the corner of 5th Avenue and E 63rd Street. Jesse got out of the cab and ran to the other side, opening the door for K like a real gentleman. "Let's go," he grabbed for her hand, and they walked up the pavement to the beige marquee that matched the exterior foundation of the extravagant building. "Mr. Akerman! How lovely to see you, Sir," the pudgy African-American doorman who looked like he was in his early forties greeted Jesse before they entered the marble lobby. He had a huge, contagious smile. His eyes gleamed and seemed genuinely delighted to see Jesse.

Jade bent her neck, staring up at the hotel. It was nothing short of modern, located on what was known as Billionaire's Row on 57th Street. Every level of the large tower was made of reflective glass that cast off prismatic gleams from the surrounding city lights. She could barely make out the brightly-lit night sky between the narrow spaces of the surrounding buildings.

I said his name out loud, because I needed to hear it in the air to know it was real. "Atlas Marchetti." I turned the key. I drove forty blocks south. Fifth Avenue blurred past me. A taxi cut across me at 50th. A bus stopped at 47th. A man on the corner of 38th sold roses from a bucket, three for ten dollars, and he was the only person on the street who looked like he was in his right life that night. The building was on Greenwich Street, three blocks east of the river. Pre-war cast iron. Six floors. Dark windows except for one on the top floor.

The limo stopped in front of Kieran’s loft in the Greenwich Village, or the Village, a neighborhood on the west side of Lower Manhattan, the heart and soul of the American bohemian culture. They stepped out of the car and Paxton practically dragged her towards the main entrance of the building. Rhiannon chewed a nail as he jammed the key into the door. Maybe if she deliberately irritated Paxton, he’d decide looking after her wasn’t worth it after all.

But all I could do was sit there, holding Elena's hand, listening to the man who'd killed twenty-one people to prove a point. "I'm giving you another chance, Adrian. Twenty-four hours to reconsider." "And if I say no again?" "Then the next gas leak will be at Luxe Collective headquarters. 1847 Broadway. Seventeenth floor." My blood went cold. Elena heard it. Her grip on my hand tightened. "You know the address," Alexei continued pleasantly. "Where your beautiful wife works. How many employees does Luxe have on that floor? Forty? Fifty?" "Don't—" "Three PM tomorrow. If I don't hear yes from you by then, I'll assume you need another demonstration of how expensive principles can be."

Leon The grand headquarters of Halefield Luxury looked immaculate under the bright morning sun, the soaring glass atrium reflecting the clean New York sky like a massive mirror. The entire main lobby had been completely transformed over the last twelve hours. The air smelled rich and expensive from the hundreds of premium white floral arrangements my team had positioned along the marble pillars, masking the usual sterile scent of polished stone and air conditioning.