Читать книгу Secrets of the Lotus - Michelle Garren Flye - Страница 5

Chapter 1

Josie Stewart wished she could go to a party for once and just enjoy it. From the window of the magazine’s rented Town Car, she watched the other disembarking passengers in their designer finery and tried not to sneer. Nothing was real—not the women’s smiles and certainly not the perky boobs below them. Josie was accustomed to this. Being a society reporter in New York City required knowing that a good bit of the city’s high society was made of matchsticks and bubblegum. Men greeted each other with friendly handshakes, though they were business rivals. Women air-kissed each other with delicate fervor, belying their half-hidden smirks.

“You’re quiet.” Bill, the driver of the Town Car, glanced over his shoulder. “Nervous?”

“I’m not exactly invited.” Josie checked her reflection in her compact. “But if I can get my story, that won’t matter.”

“What story? This is some rich guy’s birthday, right?”

“Dan Mason. He was the New Year baby the year he was born.”

“Who the heck is Dan Mason? Was he the only baby born that year?” Bill grinned through his grizzled mustache.

“The first.” She closed the compact with a snap. “His father—Dan Mason Senior—was the mayor of New York at the time, and the family owns a multi-billion dollar import-export business. They are really old, old money. Dan Mason Junior was born at exactly twelve-oh-one AM, New Year’s Day. Every year since, his parents have thrown a lavish party on New Year’s Eve. It’s become an established event.”

“Should be fun. How are you getting in?”

“Can’t reveal my sources, Bill, you know that.”

“Right.” He pulled the car to a stop. “Have a good night now, Cinderella. Should I pick you up before midnight?”

Josie laughed, knowing he was kidding, and stepped out of the Town Car. The festivities would likely go on well into the morning hours. She told herself she was ready for whatever might come, but she knew she wasn’t. This wasn’t her crowd, in spite of her job as society reporter for New York Life. She liked working for the small weekly rag, but she still had aspirations for more.

If she could collect some facts at the party, dig out whatever secrets the Mason family was hiding, it could be a major coup for her magazine—and that could be a major coup for her. Josie’s reporter’s instincts buzzed, telling her anything might happen on this night.

She paused at the top of the steps, looking around surreptitiously. Having established no one was watching, she hung a quick left, slipping through the bushes and around to the kitchen door, which she gave two light taps. A moment later, it opened and her fairy godmother in the guise of a nervous young man looked out.

“Hi, Ed.” Josie slipped past him.

“Hey, Jo.” His voice sounded tight. “You all set?”

She gave Ed a sweet smile and a nod. “I really appreciate this. It’s such a help to me.”

He straightened, obviously determined to show more confidence. “No prob, Jo. Glad I can help.”

People cluttered the kitchen. Cooks clattered pans and waiters efficiently loaded plates and glasses onto trays. No one noticed the uninvited guest slipping in the side door. Ed quickly led her into a dining room where a buffet was set up. “Okay. You’re on your own from here. Wish I could help more.”

Josie kissed his cheek, noticing the flush of color in his face, where acne still roughened his youthful skin. Suddenly he had a hopeful expression. “Hey, Jo, you think—”

“Gotta go.” Josie patted his hand. “You better get back to work, Ed. Don’t want to lose your job.” She didn’t want to hurt Ed’s feelings, and she knew he might easily take her flirting the wrong way. The best thing to do was hurry away.

Josie soon found she couldn’t hurry far. The hallway was crowded, and she stopped to make a mental note about the décor and food. Cinderella never had it so good. If she had, she’d never have left the palace, midnight or not. Lights shone in a star-like pattern through the midnight blue silk draping the walls, casting a dreamlike illumination over the partygoers. Waiters wound through the guests, offering drinks and assorted hors d’oeuvres. Josie plucked a glass of wine from one of the trays and took a quick gulp before working her way into the living room.

She wondered how many of these people could actually claim friendship with Dan Mason himself. No doubt some were business associates of Mason’s, some were friends of the family, some were hangers-on and there were probably quite a few like her—reporters who had somehow managed to wrangle an invitation or a way to sneak in. Josie finished her wine and snagged another glass from a passing waiter. She sipped the expensive chardonnay while making mental notes of the guests, the food, the barely-there designer creations on many of the young women. She hoped the magazine’s photographer, Jimmy, had found a good spot outside with the paparazzi.

As she sipped, Josie noticed people falling silent. She hit the record button on the tape recorder in her purse and moved as close to the stairs as she could. She could see Dan Mason, Jr., standing at the top with an expensively preserved woman whom she imagined must be his mother on his arm. He spoke quietly to a tall young man who nodded and disappeared back down the hallway on some errand. Mason turned again to the party and began his descent. Josie noticed his mother seemed to be having some difficulty negotiating the downhill climb in her long gown and her high heels.

“Drunk again,” a woman next to Josie said to her partner.

“Kind of early.” The man shook his head. “Poor Mason.”

Meanwhile, Dan Mason had managed to get his mother to the landing, where she clung to the railing, nodding and grinning at the chandelier. Complete silence fell over the crowd. Josie realized she’d never fully appreciated the saying “money talks”—surely nothing else could make a crowd silent long enough to listen to this woman. Josie focused on Myra Mason’s words.

“So Dan’s father and I would like to thank you for being here.” Mrs. Mason looked around. “Dan, where’s your father?”

The guests rumbled at the audible aside. Daniel Mason, Sr., had not been seen in public for more than a year. Would tonight be the night the speculations were laid to rest?

Evidently not. Dan leaned over to his mother and murmured something in her ear. She gave her best charm school smile to the crowd. “Oh, yes, he’s under the weather.” She raised her glass as if she’d made a clever toast.

Josie saw what could only be described as a pained look cross Dan’s face. The young man she’d noticed earlier materialized next to them and took Myra Mason’s arm, leading her down the stairs and into the crowd.

Dan Mason turned to the still-silent crowd with a debonair smile. Josie noted he was handsome in a strong, chiseled way. She particularly liked the eyebrows, which seemed to ask a question while framing sapphire eyes that looked like they could pierce with a single glare. She’d always liked dark-haired, blue-eyed men. She shook her head, wondering if it was the wine that had her thinking this way, and turned her attention to what Mason was saying.

“This annual birthday party is my mother’s idea. Thanks, Mom.” His audience rumbled with appreciation at this. “It’s a night that always serves me as a valuable reminder of how many people are happy I was born and how many of them are willing to come drink and eat to celebrate it.” As his guests laughed, Mason raised his glass. “To quote Voltaire, ‘Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity.’ The staff informs me the buffet is ready, so drink and eat, my friends, and remember it’s pleasure, not just business.”

His manners couldn’t have been better, especially considering the pressure to rescue his family’s reputation after his mother’s gaff. As the crowd thinned, Josie managed to step back against the wall. Concealed in the shadows next to the stairwell, she watched as Mason descended. The young man who’d disappeared with Myra Mason reappeared almost right in front of Josie. “She’s back upstairs,” he said to Mason.

“Good.” Mason scanned the crowd of well-wishers. “I wish to God she didn’t insist on these things every year.”

The other man grinned. “It’s your public, Dan.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say, Alan. My guest list would be a whole lot shorter.” He clapped the man on the shoulder and moved away to greet a tall slender woman Josie recognized as a model.

Alan turned and his gaze fell on Josie in the shadows. He looked at her curiously. Josie flashed her best smile at him and strode past, covertly clicking her tape recorder off. As she paused to examine a waiter’s tray, she hazarded a quick glance back toward the stairwell and was startled to see he was still looking at her. Knowing he knew she had been eavesdropping, she turned, took a shrimp from the tray and acted as if she’d just noticed someone she knew across the room. It wasn’t difficult to pretend she had somewhere else to be. She was going to be in deep trouble if she couldn’t find a bathroom soon. The line outside the powder room in the hall was daunting. Such an enormous mansion must have a dozen though. She imagined them as huge spa-like master baths, smaller but still impressive guest baths with lush white towels and powder rooms containing a selection of toiletries for the convenience of their users. Unfortunately, none of these were immediately evident.

She opened a door to a dim office where she saw the guitarist from a heavy metal band and a scantily clad young model making out on the couch. Closing the door quickly, she realized those two were the template for many of the guests: young, successful, beautiful and mostly looking to get laid. Josie, who knew she was far from fat, still felt self-consciously overweight next to the skeletal, ephemeral women.

No bathroom. Several locked doors ostensibly concealed smarter couples than the one she’d come across. She finally opened a door to a powder room but it was occupied by a young woman sniffing lines of cocaine through a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill.

“Shit.” Josie backed out and turned around. She was close to the kitchen, another set of stairs at her elbow. “Forget this.” She marched up. Maybe she’d catch a glimpse of Daniel Mason, Sr., and finally be able to answer the question of what had happened to him.

Upstairs, Josie tiptoed down the dark hallway. She was distinctly aware she might run into someone like Myra Mason along the way. “All I want is a bathroom,” she muttered. “If I come across something else, so much the better.” She reached for the doorknob nearest her and twisted it.

Dan Mason the younger sat behind the desk inside the office, a laptop computer open in front of him. He looked up in surprise and immediately replaced his expression with one of welcome as he snapped the computer shut. “I’m sorry, can I help you?” He rose and came around the desk.

Josie froze, temporarily rendered speechless. He was tall, much taller than she was, something she hadn’t noticed downstairs. She tilted her head upward to look at him. “I—” She couldn’t bring herself to admit to this handsome young man that her bladder was bursting. “I’m Josie Stewart, Mr. Mason. Society reporter for New York Life.”

Dan’s smile twisted. “One of the press. Well, if you’re as good at reporting as you are at tracking people down, you ought to be with the Times. You found me where I thought I’d be safe finishing up a bit of business.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just—” She felt her cheeks grow hot. Dan continued to smile, but now he also looked concerned. It seemed he cared as much for her well being as he did for any of his guests when he must have known she had sneaked into the party. She took a little courage from that. “I was looking for a restroom. The ones downstairs are occupied.”

“I’m sure they are. And this place is a maze if you aren’t used to it. Please,” he said, gesturing toward a door at the back of the office, “help yourself.”

After availing herself of the facilities, Josie washed her hands in the marble sink, reapplied her lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror. The French twist she’d put in her hair suited her, and if she straightened her back and carried her head erect, she exuded an air of confidence she didn’t totally feel. Dan Mason would no doubt be escorting her straight to the front door, unless he’d called somebody else to his office to do it for him.

She opened the door to see him putting some files in a briefcase. “All set?” He sounded polite enough. “Shall we rejoin the party?”

Josie bit the inside of her lip at the thought of the stir it might make among the other reporters if she was caught in the act of going down the grand staircase in the company of Dan Mason himself. He grinned and she realized her reluctance had shown plainly on her face. He leaned forward as if to share a secret. “I don’t know about you but I’d rather go back using a more circumspect route. There’s another set of stairs—”

“Oh, that’s how I came up.”

“Of course you did.” He nodded and, taking her arm, steered her toward the door.

It opened before they reached it and Josie froze. She recognized the handsome elderly gentleman from the countless publicity photos she’d seen of him on file at New York Life, except for one thing: Below his tuxedo shirt and cummerbund he wore nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Daniel Mason, Sr., ex-mayor of New York, had forgotten to put on his pants.

“Am I late?” He looked around the room as if expecting it to be full of guests.

Josie had never heard that Mason the elder had a drinking problem, and when she looked at him, the fog in his eyes didn’t seem to be drug-induced. Which could only leave—

“You’re right on time, Dad.” Dan stepped forward. Without missing a beat, he straightened his father’s bowtie. “What do you say we go take care of that toast?” At that moment, Alan appeared at the door. “Alan, could you stay with Miss Stewart for a moment?”

Without waiting for an answer, Dan and his father disappeared through the office door as Alan shut it behind them. He leaned against it and folded his arms, his lips pursed as he regarded Josie. “What are you doing here, Miss Stewart? The party’s downstairs.”

Josie held up her hands. “I was just looking for a bathroom.” She felt as if somebody had yanked the floor out from under her. She gestured toward the hallway. “Is it Alzheimer’s?”

“You were looking for a bathroom and found Mr. Mason’s private study completely by accident?” He shook his head. “Right.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me anything?”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to show me your invitation?” Alan waited a moment but Josie said nothing. “Didn’t think so. Well, it’s easy enough. The way I figure it, you found somebody we’d hired for the evening to sneak you in. Probably male, considering how attractive you are, and most likely young. Easier to manipulate.”

His guess was so close Josie felt herself blushing. She hoped Ed wouldn’t get in too much trouble, but she felt it was better to pretend ignorance than try to defend him. Alan snorted in an amused fashion. “Don’t worry. There are always a few gatecrashers at these things. Dan expects it and so do I.” He sobered. “I don’t much care for gatecrashers who make too much trouble, however, and I’ve been wondering about you ever since I first noticed you downstairs.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Dan’s head of security, private secretary and chauffeur.” He bowed and glanced up at her.

“The one who makes things run smoothly.”

“Precisely.”

“You must have had your hands full from what I’ve seen.” She frowned as she imagined where Dan Junior might be at that moment—probably standing in an extra study somewhere with hastily summoned staff while his father made a toast to the birth of a son he seldom remembered. She squelched the feelings of pity the imagined scene brought on. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for this family with its rich history and present so full of story material.

Dan came back into the room and Alan asked if everything was okay.

“Fine.” Dan nodded toward the door with a weary attitude. “Would you mind waiting outside for us, Alan?”

Alan nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

Dan walked to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“It was the wine that got me in trouble to begin with, remember?”

He looked puzzled then smiled. “Right, the bathroom.” He poured himself a whiskey and sat on the edge of the desk. “You may not be able to find the bathroom, but you’re very good at digging skeletons out of my family’s many closets. My father has Alzheimer’s. We’ve kept it to ourselves for the past year and a half. He’s approaching the stage when I won’t be able to pay off everyone who finds out by accident.” He shot Josie a glance.

“I don’t want money.” She straightened, hoping her curt voice would set him straight.

“I didn’t think so.” He nodded to a chair and she sat. “You want the story.” He sipped his whiskey. “Would you consider keeping this out of the headlines for now?”

“Would you give me an exclusive when the time comes?”

Dan shook his head. “Can’t. It’ll be too hard to keep it quiet when it happens. My dad is a former mayor.”

“I know, which makes this story all the more valuable to me.”

“What if I give you a heads-up twenty four hours before anyone else? Your paper would have the story a full day before I officially announce it.”

“My ‘paper’ is actually a weekly magazine.”

“I’ll call you a week before. We’ll set up a private interview. You’ll have plenty of time to get the story out before anyone else even knows.”

Josie considered. She knew he could toss her out and call a press conference before she could get the story out. Alternatively, she could do as he asked. If she agreed, she won—on his terms. She held out her hand. “Done. But I want your mother at that interview.”

“Done.” He took her hand with a small, sad smile. “Let’s get back to the party.”

As they exited, Alan straightened from his position beside the door and gave Dan an inquiring look. Dan nodded and Alan hung back as they walked on. Josie noticed a click behind them and figured Alan had locked the door. She wondered what secrets were now safe from other prying eyes.

Josie decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask a few judicious questions. “You’ve only recently taken over your father’s business, haven’t you?”

“Within the past year. But I’ve worked in almost every aspect of the company.”

“Really?” She was interested. His public image of the playboy didn’t fit with someone who knew his family business inside and out. “I’d love to hear more.”

They were nearing the head of the stairs and Dan stopped, turning toward her. “Will you be at the benefit dinner for Senator Hill on Sunday?” He absently caressed her knuckles, reminding her he still held her hand.

She shook her head with regret. “I wasn’t able to wrangle a press pass and the magazine can’t afford to send me to every benefit in New York.”

He smiled. “No, I guess it wouldn’t. But you could come as my date.” When he saw her hesitate, he added, “Just business, I promise.” He leaned closer, squeezing the hand he still held. “Though I do want to get to know you better.”

“Are you always this direct?” She felt dizzy. Dan Mason was a formidable personality at close range.

“Almost always.” Dan dropped her hand, turning back to the stairs. “I’ll pick you up Sunday at seven.”

* * * *

Alan fell into step with Dan at the bottom of the stairs. “Is she a problem?”

Dan shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’d pretty much wrapped everything up before she walked in. I’m taking her to Senator Hill’s benefit. I’ll find out if she knows anything.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Alan looked amused. “I talked to her and she’s pretty tough. I don’t think she’s the kind of girl who’s going to let you sleep with her to find out if she knows anything.”

Dan raised his eyebrows and smiled in a peculiar way. “I hope not.”

* * * *

Josie glanced at the clock. Already eleven thirty. How long had she been upstairs with Dan? She’d found a vantage point on the grand staircase from where she could track at least some of his movements without being noticed. A group of young models wearing colorful dresses that looked like little more than scarves chatted nearby, a flock of butterflies blocking Josie from any casual observer below. She watched as Dan moved from group to group, pausing to exchange words, laugh at a joke, share a drink. Several breathtakingly beautiful women attempted to attach themselves to him, but he somehow managed to drift away without them.

“He’s really good looking, isn’t he?” One of the models leaned against the banister next to Josie. She looked wasted enough to fall down the stairs if somebody didn’t do something to stop her. “Everybody’s guessing who he’s going to be with at midnight, you know.”

“Are they?” Josie looked around.

“Oh, yes.” The girl pushed back her hair with a slender hand. A sparkly barrette hanging by a few strands came off and she looked at it in a puzzled way, as if uncertain how it had gotten there, before returning her wavering attention to Josie. “He’s just broken up with his girlfriend.”

“Who was that?”

“Who cares?” The girl giggled and turned away, adding over her shoulder, “She’s yesterday. We’re wondering who’s going to be next.”

Josie smiled and looked back at the parlor. Dan had vanished, and then the music stopped and everyone scrambled to grab a drink and a partner as the countdown to the New Year began.

“Five!” Josie smiled and yelled the countdown along with the others, brandishing her wine glass. “Four! Three! Two! One!”

Someone grabbed her arm and turned her around from the banister, putting one hand behind her head to tilt it up and kiss her.

Startled and off balance, Josie reached out to grab whoever held her and felt a reassuring arm slip around her waist. As his lips left hers, Dan Mason tightened his grip on her for a moment. “Happy New Year,” he said in her ear before disappearing up the staircase.