Page 52 of Bitter Secrets

“No need to let them know I’m here,” she said with a smile and glanced around, a habit she developed after being published one too many times in trashy magazines. The last one titled, “High-Strung Heiress,” got her banished from the city for two months and a lecture to practice maintaining a neutral, but pleasant expression in public.

There was quite a bit of activity in front of Hennessy Tower, but thankfully, no camera flashes from paparazzi who lurked in the hopes of catching a photo of one of the celebrities who owned apartments in the building. Apparently, the high-profile dinner had been kept under wraps. Another win for Colette and Ariana.

As she approached the entrance, the doormen inclined their heads.

“Ms. Hennessy.”

She passed through the revolving doors and crossed the lobby. She took note of her father’s men lounging around, proof positive that the security had been increased for tonight’s party. The elevator opened, revealing an operator she’d known since she was a little girl.

“You’re late, miss,” Terry muttered, so the cameras couldn’t pick up what he was saying.

“Everyone’s allowed to be fashionably late once in their lives,” she said gaily as she stepped in beside him.

He shot her a disbelieving look that made her giggle.

“I’ve worked for your father thirty-eight years,” he said as he swiped his badge and selected one of the top floors of the building. “He’s turned away senators for being five minutes late.”

“He has many guests to occupy him. Hopefully, he won’t notice I’m a little late.”

“Your father misses nothing.”

No, he didn’t, but she could hope. Maybe she would be excluded from the next party. That suited her just fine, so she could fit more writing in between her classes.

“I’ll be all right, Terry.”

He eyed her thoughtfully. “Something’s different.”

Yes. For the first time, she wasn’t fretting about forgetting someone’s name or committing any number of unforgivable faux pas. She may be in Manhattan, but her mind was on more pressing matters, like the name of the mysterious stranger she met on that hilltop. Should he have a recognizable name like Landon or Cain, or should she come up with something exotic and fantastical?

“Jasmine?”

She shook away her wandering thoughts and beamed at a very concerned Terry. “It’s going to be a great night!”

Before he could respond, the doors opened to reveal a handful of security guards and Colette’s assistants, who leapt forward.

“Ms. Hennessy! Did something…?”

“Traffic,” she said airily as she swept forward.

“Dinner will be served in twenty-eight minutes,” one of the assistants reported as they walked on either side of her.

“I made it just in time,” she said.

The other assistant made a choking sound that was quelled when the other shot her a killing look.

“Here.”

She looked over as the lead assistant handed her a glass. She gave it a cursory glance.

“Is this…?” she began, but the assistant was already nodding.

“Yes. Non-alcoholic champagne. The servers will keep an eye on you, Mrs. Caruso, and Mrs. Khan if you need a refill.”

The assistants fell back as she approached the ballroom. She took a hefty gulp of her drink as she crossed the threshold and took in the milling crowd. Servers wove in between the guests with trays of appetizers and glasses of champagne, while a harp and cello played some sweet melody.

“You’re in trouble.”

She turned and saw Lyle strolling toward her, hand in pocket, champagne in the other. She held up her half-empty flute.

---