She didn’t hear her father arrive until he was standing almost directly over her.
Steven scrambled away, yanking up his pants. Mason stood there like a wooden block, solid and firm, his arms at his sides. His eyes blazed. His body shook with rage.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he growled at Aster.
She sat up, pulling her dress around her and crossing her arms over her chest, feeling steadier than she had in a long time. “If you can screw my friend,” she said in a strong voice, “then I can screw yours.”
Beep.
Aster turned her head back to her computer screen. The Blessed and the Cursed had refreshed, a new post appearing above the pictures of Poppy and Natasha. It was a picture of her, she realized, crying as she entered the bathroom at the Time Warner Center. Her eyes were closed, her makeup smeared as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Cry Me a River,” read the headline.
Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t noticed anyone in the hallway with her after the interview. How had the site gotten this picture?
She shuddered and closed the window, then turned and headed for the elevator bank. Whatever her father had to say couldn’t be any scarier than this.
ASTER RODE UP two floors to where the execs and lawyers’ offices were. She turned right, toward the big corner office. “Hello?” she called out softly, poking her head inside.
Her father’s office was empty, his chair turned to face the window. Aster walked in and inspected his desk. There was no note saying he’d be back in a moment. She felt a familiar dart of annoyance. This was so like him—calling her down here, only to make her wait.
A web page with the Chase bank logo was on the computer screen. Aster started to glance away—then paused when she saw how many zeros were there. It was the confirmation receipt for a liquidation of company stock: “100,000 shares,” it read. “In the amount of $10 million.” Aster’s mouth made a small O, and she leaned in a little closer. The transaction was from five years ago. She wondered why her father was looking at it now, and what it was for. Why had Mason wanted to unload so much stock all at once?
“Aster.”
Her father stood in the doorway. “Oh, hey,” Aster said, scuttling back to the couch and sitting down.
Another figure stepped out from behind him—Jonathan York, her once-uncle. He was wearing a well-cut gray suit and shiny loafers, and a large gold watch on his left wrist. There was a disconcertingly smug smile on his face.
“Oh, hi, Jonathan,” Aster said, giving him a small wave. Back when he was officially a Saybrook, she’d never known how to deal with him. The family was full of strong personalities, but there was something about him—his silence, his hulking shoulders, his penetrating stare—that put her on edge. Rumor had it that he and her aunt Grace divorced because he was too controlling.
“Jonathan was just leaving.” Mason turned to shake his hand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” And then, offering a stiff nod, Jonathan was gone.
Mason slipped into his office and shut the door. “What was he doing here?” Aster asked.
“Oh, making trouble as usual,” Mason said quickly, breezing past her to his desk. He spun his chair back around and sat. When he glanced at his computer screen, a guarded look flashed across his face, and he looked carefully at Aster. She kept her face blank. Then Mason reached over and shut the monitor off.
“So.” Mason opened a Diet Coke. He took a long swig and swallowed audibly. “You did a good job on CNN.”
“I did?”
“Yes, you did. Deanna and I are both pleased. As is your grandmother. We appreciate you doing it at the last moment.”
Aster tugged at her collar, not used to praise. “No problem,” she said in a small voice.
Mason drummed his fingers on the desk. “I also wanted to thank you for your good idea, about the engagement ring for Ko and Faun.”
Aster frowned. “Pardon?”
“Making a ring like one Faun’s mother used to have. Elizabeth told me about it this morning.”
“Elizabeth used that idea? She told me it was stupid.”
Mason coughed. “Well, she presented it to me earlier today. She tried to take the credit too, but Mitch Erikson was here, working on my computer, and he piped up that it had been your thought all along. I asked Elizabeth if it was true, and she admitted that it was.”
Elizabeth had been upstaged? Mitch had stood up for her to her father? Aster smiled at the thought.
Mason leaned forward, his features softening. “I’d like for you to work more closely with clients. Apparently your background makes you a perfect consultant for some of their wants and needs. Maybe the last few years haven’t been a waste after all.”
Aster stared at him. “Are you promoting me because of my partying?”
Mason looked pained. “I’d rather not put it that way.”
“I just . . . I didn’t expect it.”