“Are you changing your last name?”
Mason inhaled deeply as the cords in his neck came to life. He pointed ahead. “Manhattan, sis.”
My eyes opened in amazement as I took in the buildings and the lights. It was absolutely stunning, like a picture or a photograph, not real life. “Wow.”
Mason nodded. “Moving on up.”
The SUV continued across a bridge.
Mason’s expression changed as his jaw tightened. “No, I’m not changing my name. I’m a fucking Pierce, and so are you. That isn’t changing. Old Man Sparrow is a sack of shit, but maybe my father was too. Maybe yours and Missy’s were also. Fuck, we don’t know. We know Mom was—”
“Or is,” I interjected.
“I know without a doubt that the road I’m on with Sterling Sparrow is the right one,” Mason said. “Yeah, he can also be an asshole and was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. As annoying as those traits are, they open doors and make connections. Because of him, I’ve been places and in contact with people I’d never have met otherwise. I can’t tell you all that’s happening, but I can say that I’m one hundred percent behind his plans. So are the others.”
“What others?”
“I’ve told you about them.”
“In the mysterious inner circle third-person,” I said.
“You’ll meet them tomorrow. There’s obviously Sterling, call him Mr. Sparrow, and Reid and Patrick.”
“Do you call him mister?” I elongated the word.
“In public, for appearances. In private, it’s less formal.”
I tried to keep it all straight. “So, is this like the military...but different? He’s what? Your captain?”
Mason laughed. “He’d probably say general, but for the record, I was a hell of a lot better soldier than he was; not that he’ll ever admit that.”
“Do all four of you have fake dates?”
Mason shrugged. “Sparrow and Patrick, yes. The women accompanying them are Sparrow employees. There’s no emotional connection. Like I said, we have too much other shit to worry about right now than to think about dolls.”
“Dolls?” I repeated, my eyebrows arching.
“Women. Dates. Emotional or physical shit.”
I lifted my hand. “Fine, I get it. What about the other one—Reid?”
The SUV slowed as we exited an off-ramp.
“Central Park is up here,” Mason said, lifting his chin toward the windshield.
For a moment, we sat speechless, the hum of the tires and soft music the only sounds as the driver took the SUV through a slice of nature smack dab in the middle of a towering city. There were quaint-looking streetlights and horse-drawn carriages. The SUV turned left along a street running parallel to the park. On one side were walls and trees, on the other, beautiful limestone and brick buildings.
“Reid,” Mace continued, “is probably one of the smartest men I’ve ever met. He knows shit no one else cares about. That guy can hack anything and shit, accomplish things with electronics and artificial intelligence that makes our government look like preschool computer 101. Even in Iraq, he was able to intercept—” Mason shook his head again. “The short answer is no. He said he wanted to work on what he does best. Sparrow gave him a pass.”
“Will I meet the other ladies?”
Instead of answering, Mason continued reciting my schedule. “Your fitting for your dress is early so they’ll have it ready by one in the afternoon to do any final adjustments. Oh, and you can choose your mask. Then a makeup artist and hairdresser are coming.”
“Jeez, Mason. This feels too weird. Are the salons in the hotel?”
He shrugged as the SUV pulled under a roof and into a parking garage.
“I thought it would have some grand entrance,” I said, looking around.
“It does. We’re entering a back entrance, and there probably are salons. The people I mentioned are all coming to our suite.” The driver opened the door. Mason climbed out and offered me his hand. “For the weekend, you’re a Sparrow. Enjoy.”
I woke to the sound of a ringing phone as I stretched out upon a giant bed with the softest sheets.
“Hello,” I said into the receiver.
“Ms. Pierce, this is your wake-up call. Your breakfast will arrive in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Hanging up the phone, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I focused on the room around me.
The room Mason brought me to last night wasn’t a room. It was a suite, one larger than my apartment. There’s a small kitchen stocked with various flavors of coffees, a refrigerator full of drinks, and a basket of snack foods. There’s a living room with fancy furniture, a dining room with a table that seats six, and of course, my bedroom, complete with an en suite bathroom with a bathtub that made me drool.
If I hadn’t been so dead tired last night, I could have soaked for hours on end.
My bedroom wasn’t the only one. Mason also had one attached to the opposite side of the living room.
I reached for my phone, remembering something about a busy schedule for today.
“Thanks, Mace,” I mumbled, seeing that my brother had sent me an email with a complete breakdown of the day’s activities. The heading on the email read Enjoy Your Day of Pampering.
I stretched again, stepping from the soft bed. Unlike the carpet at the Motel 7, what was below my bare feet was plush, soft, and clean. I made my way to the window and opened the drapes. The material was heavy with no peeling rubber backing. I brought it to my nose—no stale lingering scent of cigarettes.
Before me was a gorgeous view of Manhattan, complete with blue sky and sunshine. Stories below, tiny people walked on sidewalks as tiny cars drove the streets.
Instead of thinking of all the sights I wouldn’t see, I decided to do what Mason said and enjoy a day of pampering. After all, tomorrow, I’d be back to reality.
6
“Ms. Pierce?” Carlos, the makeup artist, asked.
I stared in disbelief at the full-length mirror that had been brought to our suite. If I believed in magic, I’d say I’d been transformed from the blah housekeeper at a cheap motel into a princess.
Would that make my brother my fairy godmother?
I might look the part now, but in reality, I didn’t have a clue what was involved in attending a party of this importance and magnitude. Thank goodness Mason, or someone from the Sparrows, did. They’d thought of everything. From the lacy panties and garter belt to the thigh-high stockings and corset. Never in my entire life had I felt as feminine and beautiful as I did at this moment.
Moving from the right to the left, I was momentarily mesmerized by the dress covering the sexy secrets beneath. The full tulle skirt with scattered sequins pitched from side to side, catching rays of light as sparkles created prisms in all directions. I ran my palm over my torso. The bodice fit tightly over the corset, accentuating my waist while showcasing, but not bringing too much attention to, my breasts.
The cap sleeves left my shoulders and arms bare.
It was the color that surprised me. I’d thought black would be best as certain colors clashed with my hair. This dress, however, wasn’t black. It wasn’t even monochromatic. The gown was a stunning shade of blue, with hues of white, silver, and even green. While the secondary shades were subtle, Patrice, the seamstress, insisted they were perfect with my green eyes. Strands of diamond-like crystals dangled from the intricate mask. My wild red locks were tamed into long curls that were pulled away from my face by the dainty crown. Long matching crystals dangled from my ears.