Page 18 of Notorious Park Avenue Prince

I wonder if the rest of our group got one too?

I tossed my key card on the entry table and was about to open up the mysterious letter when I spotted West sitting on the couch. He had the TV on and was flipping through the streaming services.

“Hey, little late getting home, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Unfortunately. Father wanted to go over some plans he wants me to work with him on, and you know how he gets when he talks business.”

“Mind-numbingly boring?”

“I was thinking more specific and long-winded. I wanted to see the next building that will carry my family name, and he wanted to impress me with every single detail of the phenomenal deal he made.”

“And were you impressed?”

“Pretty sure I fell asleep with my eyes open.”

West smirked and tossed the remote on the couch, his gaze falling to the envelopes in my hand. “Whatcha got there?”

Wait, he didn’t get one?Now I was intrigued. I had no idea what I was holding. Who was sending me invitations and not my friends? We were kind of a package deal, though truth be told, I was the standout. The leader. It was common knowledge.

“Just something from my father, that’s all.” Don’t ask me why I was lying. West was my best friend and had so much dirt on me he could bury me six feet under. But something about this told me to keep my mouth shut.

Not something I generally did of my own free will.

“Gotcha. You planning to stay in tonight or heading out with the rest of us?”

Even before I’d been handed the letter—which was practically burning a hole in my palm—I’d decided to stay in tonight, but now it was a no-brainer. I was going to have dinner sent up, open this letter, and work out who had sent it and what it was all about.

“I think I’m just going to have a quiet night in.”

West’s brow shot up. “Seriously?”

“I sometimes do that, you know.”

“Since when?”

“Since you all paired up and became nauseating to be around. I’d like one night where I can enjoy a bottle of Beluga without having to control my churning stomach.”

He should buy that. It was the truth, just a little exaggerated.

“One of these days?—”

“I’m leaving now,” I sang as I walked down the hall toward my bedroom.

“You’re going to meet someone,” West continued, “and fall?—”

I slammed my door shut.

I leaned back against it and traced my finger around the sharp edges of the envelope, then tossed the package it came in on my bureau.

My curiosity was running rampant now, the suspense killing me as I toed off my loafers and headed to my bed. Once I was comfortable, I looked at the intricate wax seal on the back. There was a pattern there, one I didn’t recognize, and I grabbed myphone to take a photo so I could investigate it even after I opened it.

Who had sent this? Who used a wax fucking seal on an envelope these days? And who knew where I lived and how to get this personally delivered to me?

My heart thumped as I slipped my finger under the edge and ran it down to the seal. It broke in half and I pulled the letter free, and what I saw there made it beat even harder.

James Easton,

On Friday, March 15th at midnight, a car will be sent to pick you up.

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