Infamous
Authors: Irene Preston
Tags: #Romance, #General, #spicy, #Fiction, #Contemporary
Irene Preston
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2012 by Sharon Stoker Laurent
Previously published by F+W Media
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by AmazonEncore, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonEncore are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
eISBN: 9781503968608
This title was previously published by F+W Media; this version has been reproduced from F+W Media archive files.
Chapter 1
It was Carnival in Venice.
Mardi Gras on the corner of Bourbon and Royal.
Tonight was pure Hollywood — and she was buying back in.
Jessica Sinclair stood in a scene straight out of one of her books — beautiful people, champagne, a posh ballroom in one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. The entire room had been transformed for the night into a romantic Hollywood fantasy of Carnival, complete with backdrops of old-world streets and frescoed balconies. There was even the enigmatic hero — remote and aloof in black tie.
She spotted him the moment he entered the room. He paused in the doorway just as she looked up. For a second, all the sound in the crowded ballroom receded and it was just the two of them in a vast well of silence. Someone jostled her elbow, and all the noise and revelry crashed back in around her.
“Excuse me,” she said to the man next to her. “I need to have a word with Kate while she’s still coherent.”
She spent the next hour circulating. Laughing. Chatting. Dancing. Through it all, her eyes found him in the crowd — as though he were the only solid thing in the room and everyone else merely butterflies flitting in and out of his orbit.
She grimaced at the fanciful thought. She was in an odd mood, but hadn’t she come here to step, at least for the night, back into the fantasy? With her latest book off to the publisher, she was due an evening of indulgence. Only somehow, it was harder than she had expected to ignore the Styrofoam and spray paint and enjoy the pretty façade.
In the old days, she would have started the party well before she hit the ballroom and not counted it a success until every eye was on her. Tonight, when she should be letting loose, she caught herself automatically storing away information, impressions, and snippets of conversation. Half of Hollywood would give their eyeteeth to be at this party, and she felt like the narrator in one of her own books — an integral part of the story, but not an actual player. She spotted a dark head in the crowd and felt a little frisson of excitement.
It wasn’t fair. In this crowd, he should blend right into the woodwork. Was he even handsome? He didn’t have the glossy kind of image most of her male friends cultivated or even the scruffy bad-boy look that was so sexy. His dark hair was cut in a style that screamed boardroom rather than bedroom. Even the Armani tux was the most conservative cut available. He should have been completely unremarkable here amid the glittering throng. Instead, he was the one who captured attention. Everyone else seemed overdressed, overloud, and indistinguishable in their glitz and glitter.
On one side of the room, her father, J.T. Sinclair, was holding court. No champagne for him. He lifted his tumbler of scotch in a salute as she joined him.
“So, Jessica, what do you think of my latest little project?”
“Little project?” She snorted. J.T. didn’t have a modest bone in his body, and he was fishing for a compliment. “You know it’s a huge success. The Carnival theme for the premiere and the after-party was inspired. The reviews won’t even matter once the pictures hit the press — they’ll be better than the trailers for publicity. Was it your idea?”
“Ah, well, if not, it was my genius to hire whoever
did
think of it.”
It took more than genius to pull off a success like this. It took a good measure of power. In a town where you were only as good as your last big hit, Daddy maintained a permanent rung at the top of the ladder.
If J.T. Sinclair had wanted the stars from his new movie,
Masque
, to show up at the premiere wearing sackcloth and ashes, every top designer in the city would have rushed to design sackcloth. Instead, the Carnival costumes were over-the-top glamorous. Jeweled masks and elaborate headpieces topped most of the outfits with gown designs ranging from opulent period knock-offs to risqué modern designs. Some of the men were a bit more restrained, but almost all sported at least a silk mask in deference to the theme.
She caught a flash of black and her smile faltered as she scanned the group of people a few feet away. J.T. was already turning to someone else in his knot of sycophants and she drifted away from him as she searched the crowd.
Close now. So close
. Her heartbeat picked up just a little — an extra rat-a-tat-tat that she tried to ignore.
“Jess!”
An outrageously handsome face filled her vision. Blond hair and an impeccable tan blocked out any hint of sober black she might have seen across the room. She was swooped into a dramatic dip ending in an equally dramatic kiss full on the lips.
“Kiss, kiss, darling.” Mason grinned wickedly as he set her back on her feet. Blue eyes glittered through his silk mask.
No boring black for Mason. The white mask with its gold trim matched the rest of his attire right down to the gold lace on his shirt. It should have looked ridiculous, but with his tousled hair and laughing eyes he somehow managed to look dashing instead. Utterly charming and photogenic — it was only part of what made Mason Knight one of the top male stars in Hollywood.
Mason snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. He drained his in a few gulps as she took a small sip of her own.
“Drink up, luv,” he urged. “We are
celebrating
!” He waved the empty glass to encompass the room. “Another blockbuster hit for J.T., fame and glory for everyone. Why, I am practically guaranteed to double my not inconsiderable fan mail based on this one movie.” He sighed theatrically and continued in a wide-eyed stage whisper. “They send
pictures
, you know. Thousands of pimple-faced teenage girls go to sleep every night dreaming of me — the only thing to give light to their lonely lives.”
“Be nice, Mason. You know you live for the hero worship.”
“Do I?” He swayed a little, as if considering the prospect. “Ah, Jess, you’re right as always.” He deposited his empty glass on a nearby table. Almost magically, another waiter appeared with more champagne. “Yes, indeed, what are a few white lies to gain the adoration of millions?”
She narrowed her eyes as he lifted the second glass and drained half of it in one gulp. Mason had the metabolism of a hummingbird. Despite his bad-boy reputation, she hadn’t seen him really drunk in years. Tonight, his brilliant blue eyes were feverishly bright and his normally exuberant manner seemed too exaggerated.
Concerned, she wound her arm through his and tugged him toward the French doors at the end of the room.
“Come outside, we could both use some fresh air.”
He leered down at her. “Trying to get me alone, darling? You only have to ask.”
He followed her willingly enough, however. Another cause for concern. Mason generally had to be pried from the center of attention with a crowbar.
She managed to get him across the room and outside without interruption. As she pulled the door shut behind her, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed them leaving, but J.T. was taking the stage for a speech and all eyes were on him. She tugged Mason away from the doorway and into the shadows at the edge of the balcony.
“Ready for a snuggle, snookums?”
She slapped his groping hand away and glared up at him.
“That’s enough, Mason. What’s wrong?”
He pouted at her over the rim of his champagne flute.
“You might as well spill it. You only flirt with me like this when you’re upset.” And never in private.
He sighed and the handsome rogue disappeared in the droop of his shoulders as he turned away from her. “They’re all leaving me, Jess.”
She was alarmed to hear his words slurring. “Don’t be so cryptic; what do you mean?”
“Kit’s going to New York. Broadway.” He snorted. “Stupid, gay musical theatre, as if anyone wants to see
that
. Seven performances a week for God knows how long. And Susan, my sweet Susan has been making eyes at some pious frigging doctor she met at a charity event. He hasn’t even got any money to speak of, just a lot of moral mumbo-jumbo about inner-city kids. She hasn’t said anything to me yet, but it’s only a matter time before she’s reviewing the out-clause in the prenup.” Mason paused for a little hiccup. “And here I’ll be, alone with my adoring public. It’s really too trite for words.”
She slipped her arms around him, smiling into his back as she murmured, “Poor little rich boy, hmm?”
“Not funny,” he muttered.
“No, I know. But Mace, if you think Susan has found someone else, have you considered … .”
“No,” he said vehemently.
“Well, you can’t exactly expect Kit to stick around, then, can you?”
“Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know.” He twisted in her arms so he was facing her. “What am I going to do with myself, Jess?”
“Same as we’ve always done, live with our choices. If you don’t like the ones you’ve made, make different ones.”
He sighed and lowered his forehead to rest against hers.
“I’ve still got you.”
She reached up to stroke his cheek, “Come on, Mr. Wonderful. Let’s get you back to the party.”
Just then the doors opened, their sheer curtains blowing out so light and noise from inside spilled onto the balcony. A tall figure stood backlit in the doorway, a featureless silhouette. She recognized him instantly. Her fantasy hero had finally caught up with her.
“Knight.” His deep voice rolled out into the darkness. “I thought I saw you come out here. Your wife is looking for you.”
From behind him, a slender figure pushed her way through the doorway.
“Oh, Jessica, thank goodness he’s with you.” Susan Knight wafted across the balcony to bestow a gentle kiss on Jessica’s cheek. Her eyes sought Jessica’s in the darkness.