Passion on Park Avenue (Central Park Pact #1)(5)

“Gifts?” Naomi asked.

“Gifts I will accept. But first, I have gifts for you . . .”

Naomi groaned as Deena held up a stack of sticky notes and gave them a little waggle.

“You’ve been dodging,” Deena said as Naomi moved her purse from her chair and dropped into it.

“Not on purpose,” Naomi said, putting her fingers to her temples. “Next time I decide to have my apartment lease and office lease end in the same month, slap me. Just right on the face. Housewives-style.”

“Happy to,” her assistant said, shuffling through her notes.

Deena probably meant it. The woman had always claimed that in a different life she’d have been a Jersey Shore cast member. And while it was true that Deena loved her drama, she was crazy efficient, though one wouldn’t know it from looking at her. Four years ago, after Naomi’s first assistant had left the corporate world to raise her two kids in Brooklyn, Deena had come into Maxcessory headquarters with no appointment, no resume, and way too much perfume.

Deena had never worked in an office and definitely hadn’t known the first thing about typing—even if she had, her mile-long nails would have made it difficult. But the born-and-bred Jersey girl had something Naomi respected more than experience. She’d had style.

Deena Ferrari had strutted into the office, chin high, lip gloss glittery. Her black dress had been fitted and fabulous, the heels of her ankle boots sky-high. And though the woman was extra in just about every way, Naomi’s eagle eye, always primed to assess someone’s accessory game, had caught that Deena’s wrist had the perfect amount of bangles. Noticed that she’d skipped the necklace in order to let her chandelier earrings have the attention they’d deserved.

And after a stream of recent college grads in their interview suits, stud earrings, mid-height pumps, and canned answers, Deena had been the breath of heavily perfumed air Naomi had needed. She’d hired Deena on the spot and never looked back.

“How’s the team feeling about the move?” Naomi asked, spinning slowly in her chair.

Deena shrugged. “Excited. Much as they adore you and believe in Maxcessory, the desk sharing and fighting for the two conference rooms was wearing on everyone.”

“I just feel bad we’ve got this weird monthlong hiatus in between leases,” Naomi said.

Deena gave her an incredulous look. “Seriously? You think that your boss telling you you’ll have to work from home isn’t everyone’s dream?”

“Really?” Naomi asked, startled.

“Absolutely. Conference calls in jammies, and no dealing with the F train at six on a Monday night? They’re thrilled.”

“Yeah, well, trust me, the luster wears off,” Naomi muttered. “Two years of working out of my tiny studio apartment trying to get this business off the ground nearly killed me.”

“Sure, but you have to admit sometimes you wish you could work in yoga pants and no bra.”

Naomi gave Deena a look. “When was the last time you forwent the bra?”

Deena shimmied her pushed-up 46DDs in Naomi’s direction, but she knew one of Naomi’s stalling tactics when she saw it.

“Be quiet and listen to your messages.” Deena dove right in. “Movers are trying to push the relocation up by three days, wouldn’t give me a good reason. I’m assuming I can tell them to stick to the contracted date or go straight to hell?”

“Rephrase, but yeah.”

“Dry cleaner called. They couldn’t get the wasabi off your white blouse with the bow.”

“Damn,” Naomi muttered. “I love that shirt.”

“You’ve got your annual lady doctor appointment next Friday, massage on Tuesday, your hair girl needed to move your appointment from Wednesday to Friday . . . all that’s on your calendar . . .”

Deena placed the sticky notes in front of Naomi as she read them, having learned by now that Naomi was more likely to absorb things when they were literally right in front of her face.

“Claire called,” Deena continued. “Said to remind you that you’re meeting at Audrey’s at six tonight before the movie . . . ?”

There was a slight question in Deena’s tone, and Naomi knew her assistant was wildly curious about the two women who had come into Naomi’s life over the summer, seemingly out of nowhere, and become her fast friends in just a couple of months.

Naomi didn’t answer the unasked question. She trusted Deena implicitly, considered her assistant a loyal friend. But there were some things you just couldn’t explain to other people. The fact that you’d become friends with the wife and girlfriend of your late lover was one of them.

Naomi, Claire, and Audrey might not have known of one another’s existence until the day of Brayden’s funeral, but they’d made up for lost time with frequent brunches and wine nights. Naomi liked to imagine that knowing the three women he’d betrayed had bonded was torturing Brayden Hayes from his frontrow seat in hell.

Deena moved on to her next note. “Dylan Day called again, stupid name but—”

Naomi bumped her head against the back of her chair repeatedly in agitation. “That dude will not let up!”

“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it,” Deena said.

“You’d think differently if it was your life they wanted to make into a TV series,” Naomi muttered.