Butterfly by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online

practice to keep her face expressionless to lessen the ravages of laugh lines. “Why would you say that?”
    “There’s no doubt his doorman has already reported back that you were waiting for me. Booth Gordon has legions of spies and paparazzi on his payroll. If there is no scandal, then he’ll fabricate one.”
    She took a swallow of water, watching Phillip over the rim of the glass as he took a long, deep swallow of his beer. “Why have you managed to remain scandal-free?”
    “My endorsements come with a morality clause. And thatmeans no substance abuse, sex with underage girls, drunken orgies or brawls and an endless laundry list of don’ts.”
    “Do they actually spell it out like that?”
    He nodded. “Either I adhere to their rules or give up several hundred million in endorsements.”
    Seneca whistled softly. Her long-term goal was earning a hundred thousand a year, while Phillip earned nearly a half billion in brand sponsorship for sports drinks, men’s fragrances, sneakers, pain medication and a world-renowned clothing designer.
    “I suppose I would behave, too, for that kind of money.”
    “It’s not that hard to stay out of trouble. It all comes down to making the right choices—whether it’s your friends or a woman.”
    “Tell me about the private Phillip Kingston—the one the camera doesn’t get to see.”
    “Tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow?” she repeated.
    Phillip flashed his sensual smile. “Have dinner here with me tomorrow night. I’ll send a car for you and arrange to take you back home.”
    “I’d love to, but I have to go to D.C. for my nephew’s baptism. What about one day next week?”
    “It can’t be next week.” He’d changed his mind again about leaving for L.A. now that Seneca had agreed to go out with him. “Remember, I’m going to see my folks.”
    Seneca lifted her shoulders. “Then we’ll get together when you get back.” She handed him the half-empty glass. “I only have another hour before my driver is off-duty, so I’m going to leave now.” Phillip watched as Seneca put on her shoes, retrieved her cell phone from her purse and called the driver. “I’ll be ready as soon as I use your bathroom.”
    Reaching for his jacket, he slipped his arms into it. By thetime she’d returned, he’d filled the pockets with the money clip, cell, and card case with his ID and was waiting at the door. “I’ll ride down with you.”

Chapter Four
    T his time Seneca was prepared when she stepped out into the hotel lobby. Hand in hand they strolled across the marble floor, ignoring the bold stares and whispers. What she’d discovered when first moving to New York City was that everyone regarded themselves as a celebrity. There were times when she passed an actor, recording artist or athlete on the sidewalk that she’d noticed people barely gave them a cursory glance. It was tourists who wanted to take pictures or asked for autographs.
    Her driver had maneuvered up to the curb and had opened the rear door with her approach. He inclined his head. “Miss Houston. Mr. Kingston.”
    Seneca got in, and much to her surprise Phillip slipped in beside her. “What are you doing?” she whispered at the same time the door closed with a solid slam.
    Reaching for her hand, Phillip laced his fingers through hers. “I want to make certain you make it home safely.”
    She sucked her teeth loudly. “Of course I’m going to make it home safely. That’s why I hired a driver.”
    He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If ever you need a driver, just call the hotel and tell the concierge you need a car.”
    “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
    “No, I’m not. I’ll add your name to my account.”
    Seneca wanted to ask Phillip why her, or if he extended the courtesy to all his women. Although appreciative of the offer, she doubted whether she would take him up on it. “Thank you,” she said instead.
    “You’re not going to call.” His query was a statement.
    “Did I say I