Page 29 of The Problem with Playboys

Eight

Parker was annoyed Chloe hadn’t truly accepted his invitation. She’d said yes in the most roundabout noncommittal way. But he also felt challenged, and that got his blood pumping at the thought of what it might take to get her to stop being so damn cautious about him. She didn’t seem like a woman who would enjoy a game of cat and mouse. She was all about black-and-white. Cut-and-dried. Yes or no. Or so he’d thought.

There was another factor at play here. She might still be nervous about Little Black Book leaking those blurry photos. If the topic came up, Parker would have to point out that here they were nearly a week later, and Little Black Book had not made good on its threat.

Sitting in the back of the limo on the way to the hotel, he received a text from Jessica, his investigator.I found the origin of the diary.

Speak of the devil. Parker could hardly dial the phone to call Jessica fast enough.

“That was quick,” she said when she answered.

“I’m impatient. And ridiculously curious about who is behind this.” Parker didn’t let many things get to him, but he couldn’t help it when it came to Little Black Book. He checked the social media account every morning and every night before he went to bed. He took note of the way their follower numbers continued to steadily climb. He studied the array of rich and powerful people who came into their crosshairs. There were politicians and Hollywood A-listers, Wall Street bigwigs and a wide variety of American royalty. Were they really considering Parker and Chloe for a future target? Or had it all been a bluff?

He suspected it was the latter, but it had struck a little too close to home the day before when the dad of one of Parker’s college friends became a target. He was a bank president and had apparently loaned large sums of money to an investment guru involved in a pyramid scheme. He’d reportedly tried to hide the loans by moving the debt to the family’s shell companies, but this rumor was starting to catch up with him, especially since there was chatter that his own dad had done something similar in the 1970s. It wasn’t that Parker didn’t want bad people held accountable for their misdeeds. He did. It was more that it was a little too easy for Little Black Book to hide behind the mask and shoot arrows, never having to face any real scrutiny.

“After some handwriting analysis, I feel strongly that the diary belonged to Simone Astley, a socialite from Connecticut,” Jessica said. “From everything I’ve been able to learn, she had freakishly good hearing and her family was very connected. She spent years eavesdropping and picking up on other people’s secrets and keeping track of everything she became privy to.”

It was an intriguing idea, but Parker found this answer less than satisfying. “But she’s dead, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s her diary, but no one knows who actually has it?”

“No one I’ve spoken to knows.”

“I still don’t get it. They’re breaking current scandals, then dredging up old secrets, too. What’s that all about?”

“Hard to say. I’m just telling you what I’ve learned so far. She had no siblings and never had kids, so her estate is just sitting up in Connecticut. The property was left to the local historical society, but it doesn’t appear they’ve done anything with it. Anyone could have gotten their hands on her diary. Anyone.”

“Can you go up there and scope it out?”

“Do you really want to spend your money on this? Marcus and his family don’t seem to be a target anymore.”

Jessica had a point, but Parker still wasn’t willing to let it go. Little Black Book had been spying on Chloe and him in Miami. He might not be losing sleep over it, but he wasn’t about to ignore that completely. “Just head up there for a day. If you don’t find anything, we’ll drop it.”

“It’ll have to be next week or maybe the week after if that’s okay. My schedule is crazy.”

“Too many demanding clients insisting you cater to their every whim?”

She laughed. “You might say that. I’ll do what I can, okay?”

“Thanks, Jess.”

“You’re welcome.”

Parker said goodbye and hung up just as his driver, Benny, was pulling up to the Waldorf hotel. There were at least six or seven cars ahead of them, and Parker didn’t particularly want to wait. “You can let me out here.”

“You sure, Mr. Sullivan? I’m not really doing my job if I don’t drop you at the door.”

Parker reached for the door handle. “You’re just going to get stuck in that long line of limos anyway. Save yourself the headache.”

“Whatever you say, sir. Text me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

“Will do.” Parker exited the car and strode along the sidewalk, then turned up the walk to the hotel. It felt strange to be here without his dad. They’d attended this event together many times. Apparently, it was time to turn the page on that. He made his way inside, waving to a few familiar faces, but moving undeterred across the luxe lobby to the escalator leading up to the second-floor ballroom. He couldn’t help but be on high alert for Chloe, wondering what it would be like to see her again. Would there be more cat and mouse? He enjoyed a good game of pursuit every now and then, but only when there was an end in sight.

He walked up to the check-in table. The woman with the guest list immediately knew who he was, handing over his name tag before he could remind her. “Here you go, Mr. Sullivan. Enjoy yourself.”

“Will do.” He took one more quick survey of the area outside the ballroom. No sign of Chloe, so he headed inside. Right away, he spotted the first of his two clients attending—women’s professional basketball player Danisha Porter. Danisha had brought her husband and sister. After a short conversation and another casual search for Chloe, Parker tracked down his second client—hockey great Andrei Eichen. Like Parker, both of his clients had lost someone they loved to cancer, and felt the need to donate their time to the cause, lifting patients’ spirits by visiting them in the hospital while undergoing treatments. Parker knew from experience that it was a very fulfilling thing to do. Every time he’d tagged along, which was more often than not, he always left feeling a little better about his line of work. On the surface, it was just sports and big paychecks. But he’d managed to bring deeper meaning to it. At least for himself.