Page 17 of Notorious Park Avenue Prince

I walked back to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “You were rejected.”

“Rejected?”

“Yes. Turned down. Told no. You know, all those things that have probably never happened to you until right this very second.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Welcome to everyone else’s reality. Now, let’s go suck back a few shots, since we won’t be sucking on anything else tonight.”

EIGHT

east

I DRUMMED MY fingers along the back of an empty seat as I watched the buildings surrounding Columbus Circle pass by. It wasn’t often I was the lone passenger in the Sprinter, but I’d stopped by my father’s office after classes to check out the new high-rise plans for downtown. He’d won the bid easily, because what other real estate magnates could compete with the company who’d designed Easton Tower, one of the preeminent buildings in the city?

It was why my name opened doors everywhere I went. Why people begged me to make an appearance, to give them publicity.

So what in God’s name had happened on Friday night?

Yes, I was still stewing over it. It was the first and only time I’d ever had a door shut in my face—literally—and it’d only made me even more determined to figure out what was happening behind those closed doors.

What was that place? Who was the cockblocker behind the mask? What did King get up to there?

Ugh. Therejection, as Zac had called it, chafed. It just wouldn’t do. No one turned me down and got away with it.

On the other hand, a place like that couldn’t be so great if they didn’t want someone like me there. And Zac wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes either.

“Will you be going out tonight, Mr. Easton?” Scotty glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

“Hard to believe, but I think I should take the night off.”

He nodded as he pulled in under the porte-cochère at the Waldorf Towers and brought the Sprinter to a stop. “Yes, sir. Let me know if that changes.”

One of the doormen rushed to open the van, and I grabbed my bag and stepped out. The guys and I had hit up a few clubs over the weekend, a good distraction to be sure, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood. I needed to find a new hacker if Harry couldn’t get me the information I needed.

As I made my way across the lobby’s marble floors, the reception attendant called out, “Mr. Easton, a moment.”

I arched a brow and headed over to her. “Good evening, Sophia. What can I do for you?”

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a plain manila envelope. “This arrived for you.”

“Why is it not with the rest of my mail?”

“We were told to give it to you directly.”

I took the envelope, stampedconfidential.“Who dropped this off?”

“I’m not sure. It arrived during Dave’s shift, and when I asked, he said it seemed like a hired bike messenger.”

I screwed my nose up. A bike messenger? It couldn’t be anything important, then. But curiosity over what I’d find inside won out, so I thanked Sophia and headed to the elevator to open it privately.

Once the doors closed, I opened the tab and pulled out a black envelope with my name in handwritten script on the front.Red wax stamped on the back closure contained a symbol I didn’t recognize, and my brow furrowed.

What is this? A party invite?

I flipped it back over and stared at the gold swirl of my name. If itwassome kind of party, surely I would’ve heard talk of it, especially of one going to this kind of expense to get me there.

It did, however, make sense.Unlikewhat happened on Friday. Of course I was being invited somewhere high class and ostentatious, and with a special invitation, no less. That was the kind of respect my name deserved.

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