Page 76 of Offensive Plays
I look over at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I read some of the articles that came out. About that charity date. Those pictures looked like a little more than just a pity date though. Tell me… have you seen the butterfly yet?”
Red hot rage curls into the pit of my stomach at the mention of that birthmark.
But I do my best to tame it. Especially since it’s my turn to get my suit fitted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I get up from the chair and try to swallow down the bile rising into my throat.
Jonah looks at his three groomsmen. “Y’all are done. Go ahead and save us a table for lunch, will ya?”
They all agree. His little posse of yes man.
He turns his attention back to me once they’ve walked out.
“Michael,” he says holding his forehead like he has a headache. “Before things get any further. You need to know something.”
I’m still fighting the bile so I don’t say anything, but I watch him in the mirror. His gaze meets mine.
“Libby… is dangerous. She’s not to be trusted. Look what happened to her uncle. He was a criminal, Michael. A known criminal. A murderer. And I can’t say much but I need you to know this. That apple, definitely hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”
“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it. Is that right?” I grit out.
“Consider it a warning from a brother that loves you,” he slaps me on the back. “Anyways, I know you’re not fucking. You would know about the butterfly if you were.”
He shrugs and walks to the exit. “See you at lunch.”
With him gone, I can finally breathe, but my hands are shaking when I reach for my phone and dial her number.
Chapter 22
Libby
“Are you sure you gave me the right address?” I say, holding the phone up to the building.
“Trust me, that’s the one,” Ronnie confirms.
“Ronnie, this is a dilapidated warehouse.”
“In the arts district,” he adds. “It’s basically city chic.”
I scowl at his video on the phone. “Libby, you said you’d do it. You already signed the contract.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hold on.” I walk over to my driver and instruct him to stay put until I return. I no longer trust that I made a good choice in accepting this gig.
“You’ll do great, Libby. You have the perfect look for this shoot.”
“And what look is that, Ronnie? Fuckable?”
He coughs on his coffee. “No. Exotic.”
“I’m a red head with freckles. What is exotic about that?”
“Just trust me,” he says exasperated. “And call me as soon as you’re done.”
“Fine,” I say to his face. “But you owe me a decent gig after this. I’m not going to be Libby the lingerie girl. You hear me?”
“You won’t be,” he croons. “This is just to get your foot in the door.”