seat, Mason introduced their driver. “Lorna, this is Bruno. He’s a Sparrow, and he’ll be waiting for you at midnight.”
“Miss,” Bruno said, his gray gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
I could hardly contain my laughter. Bruno was the name of Cinderella’s faithful dog, the one that the fairy godmother turned into the footman on the coach that took her to the ball. “Your name is really Bruno?”
“Yes, miss. But my last name isn’t Mars.”
“Too bad, I’d love to hear you sing.” When he only smiled, I added, “Thank you for taking me to the airport tonight. I wish I wasn’t making you leave the party early.”
“No problem. I’m not exactly attending. I’ll be waiting for you. Traffic will be lighter and leaving at midnight will get you to the airport in time for your flight.”
“Why didn’t we stay closer if this was the purpose of the trip?” I asked. Even a girl from Chicago had heard of Bishop’s Landing. Near the north end of Long Island, it was two hours with traffic from the hotel.
“Sparrow had business in New York. There’ll be some very important people at the party, and he wanted to make contact before we’re all wearing masks and monkey suits.”
“Will I meet any of these people?”
Mason nodded. “Yeah, I’ll introduce you. I’ll also need to go off a bit by myself.”
A new wave of anxiety washed through me. “Mace, I don’t know anything about Sterling Sparrow or his father—I mean, other than what everyone knows. I don’t know what you do for him. Shit...I basically know nothing. What do I tell people?”
“Everything you know.”
“That...doesn’t make sense.”
“It does, Lorna. For the rest of the world besides the Sparrows, we can leave out the brother and sister part. It’s none of their fucking business where I found my date.”
I grinned. “And in all honesty, it makes you a bit pathetic.”
Mason laughed. “I am pathetic...we all are when it comes to dates. Hell, Sparrow’s date is his pilot. And Patrick’s is a woman who knows a bit about the Sparrows. Like I said, it’s complicated to have loose ends.”
“They know more than I do.”
“And they know not to talk about it. Basically, from what Sparrow has said, this estate is massive. This party is posh. Think The Great Gatsby kind of wealth. The guest of honor is Tinsley Constantine and the party is at the Constantine estate. You’re friendly. Talk to others about the decorations, estate, food, and drinks. Party talk.”
The sparkle coming from my dress caught my attention. “You made me look and feel like I can do this.”
He squeezed my hand. “You’ve got this, sis.”
7
I clutched Mason’s arm as the SUV came to a stop in front of what looked more like a museum than a home. “Maybe I can’t.”
Behind his masquerade mask, Mason winked. There was an unmistakable gleam in his green eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I thought you’d let me down.”
“Are you sure?”
The door opened, and taking a deep breath, we both got out. A golden carpet covered limestone stairs. White and gold lights twinkled from every column, tree—hell, on every rock. My mouth dried as we waited our turn to be introduced.
Once we made it to the entry, the area was like a wonderland of lights, candles, flowers, tables, and people, each one dressed in the most lavish of attires. Near an ornate pool with lit fountains was what appeared to be a full symphony. Now, granted, I wasn’t exactly sure what constituted a full symphony, but there were a lot of people with stringed instruments, as well as brass, woodwind, percussion, and a conductor.
“Mr. Mason Pierce and guest,” a deep voice boomed over a loudspeaker.
As we stepped into the crowd, Mason whispered, “I see Sparrow.”
Allowing my brother to lead, I had new questions. Why hadn’t I been more curious? Why hadn’t I gone online to look at Sterling Sparrow’s picture, Tinsley Constantine, or any of the Constantines?
They were wealthy, but where did their money come from?
More and more questions spun through my head.
“Mason,” a man with dark hair and eyes shining from behind his mask said with a nod. “Glad you made it.” He turned to me. “Lorna.”
Suddenly, I wondered if I should curtsy. I didn’t know how to curtsy.
Shit.
What if the queen or someone else was here who required a curtsy?
“Lorna,” Mason prompted, pulling me from my near panic.
I swallowed, hoping my voice worked. “Mr. Sparrow, it’s nice to meet you.”
His chin barely moved in response before he turned