Chapter 25 Helena
The sun was shining as I left campus and headed to the car waiting for me on the other side of the street. Raymond saw me coming and got out to open the door.
“We should go directly to the Mirage, Miss Helena,” he said. “Your mother’s expecting you. She’ll be there in half an hour’s time.”
Not just my mother, I added silently in my head. After a whole week of waiting, this hotel opening was my opportunity to finally sound out Carter Fields. He’d been out of town lately, but surely he would show his face at the Mirage.
I hadn’t needed Malia or the NYPD database to gather intel on my target this time.
I knew him—or I had known him, before I’d been sent into exile.
Carter was the youngest son of the Fields family, who owned the Vanity Hotel where Adam and Valerie had died.
Their party suite was his engagement gift to them.
That hadn’t seemed like a big deal to me before now, since Carter and Valerie had been friends.
They had gotten close before she’d met Adam, but my sister soon realized she didn’t want a romantic relationship with him—which didn’t surprise me, since Carter was the biggest poser of all time.
Cars, women, drugs, it was all part of his playboy image.
But Valerie had always said he was a really decent guy behind the facade, so I was hoping he would tell me something about that night.
And confirm that Valerie and Adam didn’t want drugs at their party, so they hadn’t made use of Pratt’s services.
We drove through the heavy city traffic, and although I was excited about the mission, my thoughts kept drifting to someone other than Carter.
I hadn’t seen Jessiah—Jess—since that night at Bella Ciao, but he was on my mind constantly.
I’d thought about trying to get his number this whole time, but in the end I never did.
Better not to run the risk of losing him again—because that’s what would happen, sooner or later, if we got involved.
The things that brought us together would never be a match for everything that kept us apart.
My mother, Lincoln, and Paige were already waiting outside the hotel, so I banished thoughts of Jess to the back of my mind and painted a smile on my face before getting out of the car.
“There you are.” Mom cast a searching glance over my outfit, but I’d thought ahead today: instead of my leather jacket, I was wearing a slim-cut coat over a gray cashmere sweater and black jeans that you could hardly tell were jeans.
She gave me a nod of approval, then beckoned us to follow her. “Let’s go in.”
We entered the Mirage via its gold-embellished entrance, and I stopped dead, impressed.
I vaguely remembered what the hotel had looked like before it closed eight years ago—a relic from days gone by, covered in plush and velvet, with brocade wallpaper and thick carpet everywhere.
It had been fully modernized now, of course, but still with its original charm.
The flooring had been finished in shimmering shades of gold, and the interior designer had opted for a dark palette for the lobby furniture—green and black, with accent cushions in the opposing shade.
The color scheme extended to the staff uniforms, which made it seem as if the hotel itself was somehow alive.
I couldn’t take in every detail from one brief glimpse, but I knew at once that I loved it. Even my mother was quite taken.
“A good job indeed,” she remarked, which from her was a compliment of the highest order.
Our arrival had been spotted, of course, and just then a member of the staff came over to greet Mom, along with Paige, Lincoln, and me, ushering us to the front desk to check in.
“Where’s Dad, by the way?” I asked, as the luggage our mother had brought for us was carried past us to the elevators.
“He has a meeting; he’s coming directly from there.
” As always these days, when she talked about my dad, her face was an impenetrable mask.
I hadn’t managed to find out what was going on, either from her or my brother.
Of course, I’d tried to suss out if Dad was sleeping in Valerie’s old room, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
Though admittedly it was hard to tell, since he was hardly ever home.
“Welcome to the Mirage, Mrs. Weston,” the concierge at the front desk greeted us. “We’ve prepared rooms for you and your family. I’ll show you up. And if there’s anything at all you need, or if something isn’t to your liking, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
The Mirage had decided to do a soft launch for a selection of prominent guests instead of a normal opening, so giving feedback was part of the deal.
The great, the good, and the powerful of New York City were to spend a night in the hotel and put all its services through their paces to find out if there were any weak spots before the official opening date.
Naturally, my mother had accepted immediately, since she loved nothing more than rubbing her own perfectness in other people’s faces.
In the elevator, the concierge held a key card up to the button panel. “Your suite is on the ninth floor, Mrs. Weston,” she informed my mother. “Your son’s room is on the eighth, and your daughter’s is on the seventh—both with a view of the park, of course.”
Mom looked up. “The ninth floor?” she asked. “The hotel has ten floors, does it not?”
The concierge nodded. “That’s right.”
“And our room is on the ninth?”
I knew what she was getting at—in hotels like this, the most exclusive rooms were usually to be found at the very top. And she clearly expected to have been given one of them.
“Your suite, ma’am,” the hotel employee corrected her with a professional smile. “It’s very beautiful; I’m sure you’ll find it satisfactory.”
I expected my mother to make some “Do you know who I am?” kind of scene, but she just nodded and forced a smile. “Yes. I’m sure I will.”
Seriously? I looked to my brother, but his face gave nothing away, so I wrote it off as my paranoia and waited until we arrived at the seventh floor. The concierge gave me my key card and room number; I stepped out of the elevator, found my room, and let myself in.
It was stunning, decorated in the same color scheme as the lobby, with a fabulous view across the city, a luxurious bathroom, and a complimentary tray laid out with delicious-looking treats.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to enjoy any of it, since the gala dinner was to begin in the reception room downstairs in half an hour, and I still had to change—as well as figure out how I was going to get the truth out of Carter Fields about my sister’s final hours.
I popped a praline in my mouth, tore myself away from the cityscape outside the window, and hurried to change into my dress.
Thirty minutes later I stood on the fringes of the reception room with my brother and his fiancée—which she never tired of mentioning—each of us with a glass in our hands.
Most of the attendees were already there, but by no means all.
My parents didn’t buy into the rule that the most important guests at an event should be the last to arrive.
“You couldn’t get a date, Helena?” Paige looked almost sympathetic.
“No, I didn’t want one,” I replied, unmoved. “I don’t like to commit myself too soon, you know? When you fly solo, you get a chance to check out the goods and then decide who you want to take home at the end of the night.”
Her eyes widened, and I almost laughed. Valerie would have had something to say too. I heard her voice in my head: What’s up, Try-Hard Barbie? Too much for you?
“Len’s just kidding,” my brother said quickly.
“I most certainly am not.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right—you live with Mom and Dad.” He grinned. “Maybe you should make the most of the opportunity to take someone back to your room tonight.”
“Yeah, but who?” I scouted around as if searching for potential candidates. I was really looking for Carter Fields, but he was nowhere to be seen. “So much choice… and if I’m going to get to see one of them naked, I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”
“Could you please stop talking about sex?” Paige whispered. “It’s not appropriate in public.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry, P. Lincoln will show you how it all works after the wedding. He’s gathered some experience over the years.”
She went slightly red, whether out of embarrassment or anger, I wasn’t sure. Sadly, though, before I could say any more, my attention was diverted elsewhere.
“You can’t be serious, surely?” someone hissed nearby. I glanced around to see my mother giving one of the hotel employees a piece of her mind. I switched into eavesdropping mode right away, to try to hear what was going on.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Weston, I can’t make any changes at this stage.” The woman shook her head regretfully.
“I don’t need you to apologize; I need a solution to the problem.” My mother activated the laser stare I’d been expecting in the elevator. When Blake Weston was unhappy with something, it was best to fix the issue, stat.
“But I can’t reorganize the seating plan,” the staff member replied, somewhat desperately. “It’s all been precisely coordinated, and most of the guests have already arrived and seen where they’re sitting. It’ll be total chaos if I change it now.”
“I don’t give a damn. Switch out two of the guests, or we will leave the event immediately. I won’t have my daughter sitting at the same table as that person.”
Wait a second. This was about me? I left Lincoln and Paige where they were and went over.
“Hey, Mom. What’s the problem?” I smiled kindly at the employee to let her know not every Weston was out for blood. She returned it weakly, and my mother’s expression grew even darker.
“I’ll sort it out, darling.”
But I wasn’t about to let it go. “It’s obviously something to do with me, so I want to know what’s going on. Maybe I can help make it go away.”