CHAPTER TWO Juan waited nervously for the elevator. That could be a problem, knowing the time it took for one of these elevators to reach the penthouse floor. Why did Nicole have to be so stupid, insisting on the best apartment in the building? She was spoiled. He would see what could be done about that. The soft bell finally signalled the arrival of an elevator. Fresh chlorine from the health club pool permeated the lobby. He strode impatiently across the peach marble floor, past the concierge at the front desk, past the black and white sign that stood on a silver post. "All guests must be announced," he read, as one of the 24-hour doormen held open the door.
The penthouse had been her idea. It was located in a prominent neighborhood uptown, it had a view of Central Park, and being the top corner unit, it was the best apartment in the building. And why not? Nothing but the best. It had been difficult to get the two bedroom suite with a view of the George Washington Bridge. She had to prove a yearly income of $100,000. Not exactly an easy task when one did not work for a living. But it hadn't proved that difficult. She had her mother co-sign the lease and against all Juan's objections, she had secured the most sought after luxury apartment in Manhattan with the best view the Upper East Side had ever seen.
The mirrors were his idea. Juan's forte lay in creating illusions. True, they cosst $3000, not including delivery and installation, but they added so much to the wrap-around living room, making it appear larger, the expanse of view - towers, buildings, park and sky - doubled.
It gave her inspiration, it gave her peace of mind, but it did not bring her friends. Who cared? She loved being alone, anyway. She already had one enemy, the doctor across the hall. "What do you do?" he inquired of his new neighbor. "Nothing," she said.
