Kate took a sip and smiled. “Wonderful. Nothing better than good French champagne.”
De Santos turned to Jason. “Single malt, if I recall.”
“That’s right.”
“I keep something special for my friends.” De Santos led them over to the bar and walked around behind it, selected a particular bottle of scotch and poured a hefty portion into a Baccarat crystal snifter. “Eighteen-year-old Dalmore. I think you’ll like it.”
Jase took the snifter, swirled and inhaled. He took a sip and nodded. “Very nice.”
“I’ll be busy this evening with my guests, but I thought perhaps we could speak sometime tomorrow about a business proposition I have in mind.”
Jase nodded. “I’m intrigued. Late afternoon would work.”
“Three o’clock, then. In my office.” He turned to Kate. “If I can find a moment to break free, I’ll give you that tour.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Kate said.
De Santos made a slight bow and melted into the crowd.
Kate linked her arm with Jason’s. “Let’s wander a little.” She hadn’t been to an extravagant cocktail party since she and Andrew had broken up, but she hadn’t forgotten the rituals. She was in her element here, which Jase seemed to understand.
“Lead the way,” he said.
They ambled from room to room, each one equally extravagant, done in variations of the white-and-silver theme in the huge, high-ceilinged living room. The residence, which mirrored the footprint of the first floor, had to be at least ten thousand square feet.
They stopped at one of the several buffet tables to sample the gourmet dishes: lobster en croute, blackened shrimp, oysters on the half shell, filet mignon, stuffed capon, endless salads and luscious desserts.
Not all of the apartment was open to the party, Kate noticed. A bearded security guard in a black tuxedo stood in the middle of the corridor to an extensive wing, legs splayed, arms behind his back in a parade-rest position.No Admittanceseemed to be stamped on his forehead.
“Wonder what goes on in there.” Kate’s gaze went down the long hallway.
“Be interesting to know.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t think we’re invited.”
Jase eyed the guard. “Maybe not. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
We’ll have to wait and see?Unease swirled in her stomach. Surely Jason wouldn’t break into De Santos’s private quarters? On the other hand, they needed information. Maybe they could find it.
They wove their way through the elegantly dressed throng, spotted a couple of famous rappers; a woman Kate recognized as currently starring in the Dallas Broadway production ofPhantom of the Operaat the Music Hall at Fair Park. There were fashion models and even a movie star, though Kate couldn’t remember the woman’s name.
All evening, she had been watching for Special Agent Kingsley, but she didn’t notice him until they went out to the terrace, where Kingsley was making drinks behind one of the portable bars.
Jason urged her in that direction, stopped right in front of him. “How about a refill?” he asked the agent, pointing to his heavy crystal snifter.
Kingsley’s dark gaze zeroed in on him. “That the scotch the boss keeps for special guests?”
“That’s the one,” Jase said. They barely made eye contact. Kate thought it was more than possible De Santos had cameras all over the residence, watching his guests’ every move.
Kingsley refilled her champagne flute. “Enjoy your evening,” he said as he moved on to another guest. They stayed on the terrace awhile, soaking up the warm night air, then headed back inside.
“Apparently De Santos is the man of the hour,” Jase said, noticing theMorning Newspress badge on a woman snapping photos of celebrities for the society page.
“Look over there.” Kate took a sip of champagne. “The guy with the bodyguards? That’s Denny Reyburg, the social media magnate.”
“In the flesh,” Jase said.
And there was plenty of it. Denny was at least sixty pounds overweight. Not quite six feet tall, dark hair pulled back in a man bun, Denny had a pudgy face and a bad case of acne.
