BooksBarbecue
Back Vortex Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. Epilogue
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Catherine Coulter
  61. About the Publisher

After she disconnected, Mia changed into her dress, pulled her hair back from her face, twisted it up into a thick chignon, added a touch of mascara and lipstick, and decided it was as good as it would get. She pulled on her stiletto-heeled black boots and stylish black wool coat her mom and dad had given her for Christmas, and took one final look in the mirror. She grinned at her reflection. “Yeah, baby, you’re the reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper.”

She called downstairs so a taxi would be waiting to take her to the Harrington fundraiser at the plush Cabot Hotel.

5

Mia

The Cabot Hotel on East Seventy-Fifth was one of the special few New York hotels Travis admired. He thought the art deco style, lovingly restored, still made its discreet statement—we cater only to the wealthy and provide anything-they-want service.

Mia was politely asked her name, checked off on a list, and joined a group of invitees in the massive red, white, and blue–garlanded ballroom with matching red, white, and blue balloons hugging the high ceiling, a clever touch. What a relief the American flag wasn’t black and vomit brown. She saw a free bar meant to lighten fingers reaching for checkbooks, tables of clever finger foods including tiny tacos that immediately made her hungry, and an eight-piece band playing mellow background music. Everything was set for Alex Talbot Harrington to present himself.

Mia estimated five hundred guests were roaming around the huge ballroom, dressed to kill, most drinking, all in fine spirits. Liquor flowed, and Mia wondered what the final bar tab would be. It boggled her mind.

She figured Harrington, with his family’s support and reputed bottomless pockets, didn’t much need tonight’s contributions, capped as they were, for the campaign. He needed these fundraisers for the exposure, the publicity, the opportunity to meet the movers and the shakers, people he was smart enough to know he needed badly as a newcomer.

She worked the room, seeking out people’s impressions of Alex Talbot Harrington, came across a couple of social media hounds she’d locked horns with a couple of months before and would like to gullet.