Butterfly by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online Page B

dropout. Willing her mind blank, she closed her eyes and sank into the unyielding, muscled body of the man with whom she would be linked romantically as a marketing ploy.
     
    Seneca opened her eyes when the driver got out of the limo and came around to open the rear door. Extending his hand, he helped her out at the same time as Phillip opened the door closest to the curb.
    “What are you doing?” she whispered when he reached for her hand.
    Phillip gave Seneca a smile parents usually reserved for theirwell-behaved children. “I’m going to make certain you get inside safely.”
    She shook her head in exasperation. “Phillip, I live in a very secure building in a safe neighborhood, so there’s no need for you to walk me upstairs.”
    Phillip glanced up at the four-story brownstone on the Upper West Side half a block from Central Park West. There were brownstones and townhouses lining both sides of the tree-lined street, giving it a suburban feel rather than being in the middle of Manhattan with its high-rise apartment and office buildings.
    “Which floor do you live on?”
    “The fourth,” she said, sighing.
    “Let’s go, baby.” Phillip nodded to the driver. “I’ll be right back.” The man had double-parked in front of Seneca’s building.
    Seneca had no choice but to follow when he practically pulled her along. “Slow it down,” she demanded, “or I’ll turn an ankle in these shoes.”
    “Nice shoes and very nice legs,” Phillip said matter-of-factly.
    She ignored his compliment while she unlocked the wrought-iron outer door, then another solid oak one with stained-glass insets. When she’d first come to look at the apartment, Seneca couldn’t believe her good fortune. The brownstone, erected around the turn of the prior century, had been restored to its original magnificence with marble floors and carved banisters and newel posts. Each apartment boasted parquet floors, tall windows, working fireplaces and claw-foot bathtubs.
    Electra, who’d evicted a former roommate who’d refused to pick up after herself, had asked Seneca if she knew of anyone willing to share a two-bedroom apartment only blocks fromthe Museum of Natural History. Seneca knew she’d surprised the drama student when she told her she would consider moving in with her. Riding the subway uptown and touring around the trendy neighborhood was all she needed to see. Two days later she moved out of the cramped Alphabet City apartment she shared with three other NYU students. Her rent had more than doubled, but at least she didn’t have to step over winos and crackheads to get to or into her building. Then there also had been the problem of someone indiscriminately ringing intercom bells in the hope that they would be buzzed in.
    “Are you staring at my ass, Phillip?”
    Throwing back his head, Phillip laughed loudly. “When I first saw you I never would’ve imagined you would have a wicked temper with a mouth to match.”
    She glanced at him over her shoulder. “That’s what you get for judging a book by its cover.”
    “That’s true,” he crooned. “But you’ve been a delightful surprise.”
    “In what way?” she asked.
    Phillip stepped off the last stair, following Seneca down the pristine hallway to the rear of the building. “I thought you’d be stuck-up like some of the other models I’ve met.”
    Seneca removed her keys from her purse. “All of us are narcissistic,” she said in defense of her peers, “but it all depends on what degree. I have a theory that the size of one’s ego is usually linked to the number of zeros in their contracts. The more zeros, the more they feel they don’t have to adhere to the rules.” She unlocked the door, then turned and smiled up at Phillip. “We’ll continue this conversation when we see each other again.” Leaning closer, she pressed a light kiss to his jaw. “Good night.”
    Bracing a hand on the door frame, Phillip angled his head,covering her mouth with his,