Tender Loving Passion. Donna Hill

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      Chapter 8

      “No point in circling the block again,” Mia groused, looking above and below car tops and along the tightly packed street as she inched down 56th Street. Michael’s office on Madison Avenue was in the heart of Manhattan. But parking on Madison was out of the question. “It’s mostly either No Parking Anytime or For Commercial Traffic Only.”

      “There’s a garage about a block down on your right,” Ashley pointed out.

      Mia signaled then eased into the right lane in front of a yellow cab and zipped across the intersection before the light changed. The Quick-Park parking garage was franchised throughout the city. Their trademark black-and-gold signs were like beacons of salvation for harried drivers.

      Throughout the thirty-minute drive, Ashley had refrained from asking questions, basically making small talk or keeping quiet, which totally went against her grain. This entire scenario had Ashley deeply concerned about Mia. Mia had said there were things she couldn’t tell her, and heaven only knew what that meant. She just hoped that whatever Mia had gotten herself involved in was not going to get her hurt, and she didn’t mean physically.

      During the months that she’d spent working with Mia, she’d come to admire and respect her. Mia was forthright, professional, loyal to her friends and able to charm the most difficult clients. She ran her business with precision, and she conducted her life with the same kind of order and attention to detail—all without breaking a sweat. Which was why it was so unsettling to see her like this—totally distracted, edgy and, for lack of a better word, scared. Those were words Ashley would have never associated with Mia, and Ashley vowed to stick by her side and see things through.

      * * *

      Mia unsnapped her seat belt, pulled down the overhead mirror and reapplied her lipstick, which she’d pretty much chewed off during the trip.

      For an instant she froze. The look in her eyes that was reflected back at her was one of uncertainty and confusion. And she knew that it had more to do with her twisted feelings for Michael than her ability to do her job. Yet both were intricately intertwined, and she couldn’t see one without the other. But she had to.

      She felt Ashley staring at her and turned. “I may need your help.”

      Ashley’s honey-brown eyes widened ever so slightly. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

      Mia offered a tight-lipped smile, flipped the mirror back in place, grabbed her purse and tote and hopped out.

      The attendant handed her a ticket and asked how long she would be.

      “No more than an hour.” She turned and walked up the ramp and out onto the busy street.

      Michael’s offices were on the five-hundred block of Madison Avenue, surrounded by the headquarters of all the major banks both domestic and foreign and the leading financial institutions, Schwab, Deutsche Bank. His office was at 554-11 Madison on the twenty-second floor.

      The duo pushed through the glass-and-chrome revolving doors. They were stopped at the security check-in desk, and asked to produce identification and sign a logbook.

      Ever since 9/11, all the major New York City office buildings had instituted this procedure. Mia often wondered what possible good it would do and what kind of deterrent it was for someone who really wanted to do harm. There was no way to prove that anyone’s ID was legitimate.

      Her friend Danielle’s last Cartel case was a perfect example of what people could do with ID. Dani’s identity theft case even added an additional element of finding famous look-alikes who were used to gain access to parties, offices and homes with the purpose of stealing unsuspecting victims’ identities. The successful outcome was all in the news, with no mention of Danielle or the Cartel, of course.

      No matter how careful you were and no matter how many safeguards were put in place, someone, somewhere, was working to breach your defenses. The Ladies Cartel was a testament to that truth. Besides, she reasoned, if someone intended to get in and blow up a building, the logbook would be destroyed in the process. It was all quite arcane and silly in Mia’s mind, but if it offered some sense of security, she supposed it was useful.

      Mia and Ashley walked side by side to the second bank of elevators after signing in.

      Mia watched the dial of the elevator as the lights did a countdown. “I may need you to keep his executive assistant—and possibly Michael—busy,” she said without looking at Ashley.

      “Sure. No problem. Busy I can do.”

      The elevator doors slid open and deposited a half dozen people into the lobby. Mia and Ashley were the only two to get on.

      “If I say I want to use the restroom, I’m going to need you to keep everyone occupied. At least for five minutes. If we get to sit in Michael’s office, I’m going to need you to get him out of it.”

      “How?”

      “We’ll think of something.”

      The bell dinged and the doors slid open.

      “This would be so much more fun if you told me what you couldn’t tell me,” Ashley said under her breath.

      Mia tossed her a look and stepped off the elevator. The directional signs indicated that the Avante Enterprises offices were to the right. They turned toward a set of glass doors.

      A receptionist looked up at their approach. “May I help you?” Her perky voice came through the intercom embedded in the wall. Mia recognized it from the phone call. She stepped closer to the intercom.

      “Mia Turner. I have an appointment with Mr. Burke.”

      The door buzzed, along with the sound of the lock disengaging. Mia grabbed the large chrome handle and pushed the door open.

      “If you will have a seat, I’ll let Mr. Burke know you’re here.”

      “Thank you,” Mia murmured and took a seat with Ashley right next to her.

      “Nice digs,” Ashley said.

      “Hmm.” Interesting, she thought, as she took in the décor of the reception area. The colors were in sharp contrast to the house on the harbor. Here black dominated, with gray and burgundy accents. The colors and coordinating décor spoke power, style and control. All nouns easily associated with Michael Burke.

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