Her face went dead white, the only outward sign of fury. “I’ve had enough of your insults for one afternoon, Mr. Stanislaski. Now, you can either find your way out, or I’ll call security to help you find it.”

“I know my way,” he said evenly. “I’ll tell you this, Miss Sydney Hayward, you will begin to keep those promises within two days, or we’ll go to the building commissioner, and the press.”

Sydney waited until he had stalked out before she sat again. Slowly she took a sheet of stationery from the drawer then methodically tore it into shreds. She stared at the smudges his big wide-palmed hands had left on her glossy desk and chose and shredded another sheet. Calmer, she punched the intercom. “Janine, bring me everything you’ve got on the Soho project.”

An hour later, Sydney pushed the files aside and made two calls. The first was to cancel her dinner plans for the evening. The second was to Lloyd Bingham, her grandfather’s—now her—executive assistant.

“You just caught me,” Lloyd told her as he walked into Sydney’s office. “I was on my way out. What can I do for you?”

Sydney shot him a brief glance. He was a handsome, ambitious man who preferred Italian tailors and French food. Not yet forty, he was on his second divorce and liked to escort society women who were attracted to his smooth blond looks and polished manners. Sydney knew that he had worked hard and long to gain his position with Hayward and that he had taken over the reins during her grandfather’s illness the past year.

She also knew that he resented her because she was sitting behind a desk he considered rightfully his.

“For starters, you can explain why nothing has been done about the Soho apartments.”

“The unit in Soho?” Lloyd took a cigarette from a slim gold case. “It’s on the agenda.”

“It’s been on the agenda for nearly eighteen months. The first letter in the file, signed by the tenants, was dated almost two years ago and lists twenty-seven specific complaints.”

“And I believe you’ll also see in the file that a number of them were addressed.” He blew out a thin stream of smoke as he made himself comfortable on one of the chairs.

“A number of them,” Sydney repeated. “Such as the furnace repairs. The tenants seemed to think a new furnace was required.”

Lloyd made a vague gesture. “You’re new to the game, Sydney. You’ll find that tenants always want new, better and more.”