Lena.

Thursday came with unexpected heat. The kind of early summer day that made Manhattan feel almost tropical.

I was standing at the penthouse pool, an amenity I'd discovered by accident, when Mrs. Billy found me.

"Oh, you found the rooftop!" She smiled. "I was wondering when you'd venture up here."

The pool was stunning. Infinity edge, overlooking the city, completely private. And I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt in eighty-degree weather.

"I don't have a swimsuit," I said.

"Mr. Blackwood keeps guest suits in the cabana. All sizes." She studied me. "You should enjoy it, dear. It's yours too."

After she left, I stood there for five...