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.Then he stared at the remote control again in an effort to find the button marked “play.” Where was it? Everything was out of focus.He pushed a button, but it was the wrong one.It was the “pause” button.Frustrated, he looked again, found the “play” button, pushed it, and sighed as he leaned back on the sofa.Louis Ryan filled the screen.He was wearing a dark suit and his crown of silvery hair was neatly groomed.And while his expression appeared neutral, Cullen knew better.Cullen knew to look into Ryan’s eyes.That’s where the fury was.That’s where the man’s fire burned.Cullen had watched this so many times over the past month, but he now had to force himself to focus on what Ryan was saying, some of which he’d missed at the start.But not this section.This was the part that pulled him in from the start when the DVD was anonymously delivered to him after Ryan’s death.“You now know what George Redman did to my wife.You understand why I’m doing this now.It’s almost over.Celina is dead.Leana Redman is now in my employ.Soon, The Hotel Fifth opens, and that’s where it ends for all of them.But I’m not stupid, James.You know that.I know things can go wrong.If I fail and my life ends, which it very well might, that doesn’t mean that this ends also.It means that I need you, my best and oldest friend, to finish it for me.Not right away.We’ll give it three years so people will have enough time to drop their guards.Then we act again.If you agree to my terms, I’ll pay you handsomely—a third party who will remain anonymous will take care of all of it.I know what you lost in the market.We’ve talked about it.But you can have it all back, and so much more.My plan for revenge against Redman and his family must not die even if things don’t go as I planned when my hotel opens and I die.This is a possibility.I’m aware of that.I’m prepared for that.I’m fully aware of the risk I’m taking.I’m reaching out to you now through this video in case that happens.Help me, and I’ll see to it that you not only have the Cullen name, but all the money that name deserves.”Cullen switched off the television.With an effort, he rose from the sofa, walked over to the DVD player dragging his prosthetic leg behind him, and ejected the disc.He put it in its case and brought it over to his desk where he wrote “Love, Louis Ryan” on a sticky note.He attached the note to the case and placed it on his desk.He went to the bar behind his desk, and removed another chilled bottle of Belvedere.He clicked a switch next to his desk, and the office was filled with his favorite aria, Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma,” from his great opera, “Turandot.” Cullen had listened to it several times already tonight as he readied himself for the inevitable.“None shall sleep,” he said, as he reached into a drawer and removed a full bottle of Ambien.He opened the cap and smiled as he poured the sleeping pills into the palm of his hand.“The irony is staggering.”He opened the bottle of Belvedere, swallowed as many of the pills as he could, went back to swallow more, and then he maneuvered his way over to the sofa and sank into it.As he became drowsier and drowsier, and moved closer to the gray, unknown edges of death, he thought about his life.He remembered his first love, Carolyn, long since dead.He thought about the trauma of losing his leg to cancer, and how he thought—at least when that happened—that it was the worst moment of his life.He thought of his mother, who was kind to him in ways that his strict father wasn’t.He loved her for that.He saw her face now, and he felt a rush of love for her.He thought about the lavish lifestyle that had been handed to him, and all that it had provided him.He thought of vacations abroad, his love of Paris, the years he spent in England, and the position he held in Manhattan, which would be destroyed by morning due to that disc.So, be it, he thought.So, be it.So, be it.So, be it.No one’s perfect.No one’s perfect.Least of all me.Least of all me.Look at me.Not perfect.Not perfect, at all.As he brushed against death’s cold rails, the one thing he didn’t think of was Louis Ryan.When Cullen closed his eyes a final time—his breathing barely there, the weight on his chest no longer as intense as it had been throughout the day—he wondered whether he would go to heaven or hell.For the most part, he’d lived a good, honest life.He’d made his share of mistakes, but they were nothing to be ashamed about, at least until now [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]