Manic
Page 4
These people have no middle. It's either sweet or trashy.
"Just put it on, OK? We don't have time. Just trust me for once, will ya? I've been dressing models for five years, I know what I'm doing."
I grumble, but after I put the outfit on and Ronin hands me a brush and a clip to keep my hair neat, I decide some librarians can be sexy and I'm definitely one of them. When I turn from the mirror he's exiting from the men's side of the closet buttoning up his shirt cuffs.
We smile at each other.
"I can't wait to get you in bed again," he growls.
"Why wait?"
He smacks my ass and pushes me out of the dressing room. "Be good tonight, it's important."
I smile at that as we hop down the four flights of stairs that lead to the parking garage and then get in his truck. I take a deep breath as we exit onto the busy street outside our building and say a little prayer that this contract was a good choice.
Chapter Three - ROOK
The restaurant is at the top of a very tall building in downtown Denver. I have no idea what this building is called or anything else about it, but I don't dwell on it because as soon as we give the valet guy the truck, Ronin is practically dragging me to the elevator.
"Shit, Ronin. Calm down, will you? You're making me nervous."
"Sorry," he says, squeezing my hand. "Ford is pissed and that means Antoine is pissed, and not to sound like a jerk, but Antoine is pretty serious about the business side to the studio, it's got his name on it after all, so we try to keep clients happy and this is a huge contract, Rook. Huge. So play it cool, be nice, and smile sweetly. Please," he adds at the last second.
I've never seen Ronin so… on. I'm thinking about how I really don't know him that well when the elevator doors open and he places a calming hand against the small of my back and gently guides me forward. He talks to the maître d' in French and they laugh like they're old friends, and then we're led past all the other diners and into a private area. Spencer's boisterous laugh fills the room as we enter as all heads turn to us. Antoine stands and walks over and takes my arm to place me in a seat next to him. Ronin shakes hands with all the suits and Spencer as he walks around the table to find his chair across from me.
I look to my left and there's that Ford guy. I smile sweetly like I was told, then look past Antoine to Elise. She's prettied up in a dark red dress that looks like someone made it specifically for her tiny little frame. Her short blonde crop is gelled up to make little wisps of hair curve against her cheeks and forehead. She smiles at me and raises a glass, her champagne and dimples both sparkling at the same time.
She's adorable.
I pick up my champagne glass and raise it back, then take a sip and realize it's water.
Ford leans into me a little, making me pull back. "You're underage, right?"
I catch Ronin's glare across the table and put on the game face and talk in my sweetest voice. "So, tell me, Ford—is that a family name? Or did your parents just like trucks?"
Spencer spits out his beer all over another suit guy and barks out a laugh. "Oh, Rook, I think the next three months with you will be the best of my life."
I look over at Ronin and he's not happy. I look over at Elise and her dimples are gone. I try not to look at Antoine, and it's not that hard because he's directly to my right so all I have to do is look straight, but I don't need to see him because he leans down and whispers in my ear, "Behave, Rook."
I turn to Ford. "No, seriously, it has to be short for something, right?" I bat my eyelashes at him and the rest of the table settles down and starts talking again. "Tell me, I'm interested. I have an unusual name myself."
He smiles but it's so fake I want to tell him he needs to practice that shit in the mirror before he unleashes it on the world. "It's short for Rutherford. A family name, as you said."
"Nice," I say. "I'm named after a chess piece myself, the rook. You know what the rook does, Ford?"
He laughs a little. "Yes, Rook, I know. But Spencer told us you're named after a bird. Which was why he fell in love with you and insisted that you be the nude body he gets to paint up this summer."
He says the last bit as he looks at Ronin, and this makes my heart beat a little faster. What's going on here? "Well, that too," I say, watching Ronin stare at Ford. "Uh, do you guys know each other?"
"Oh, yeah," Spencer says from down the table. "Ford, Ronin, and I go way back. High school."
"Oh, Catholic high school, right?"
"That's right," Ronin says. "Ford was two years ahead of us."
"Uh-huh." I wait for Ronin to continue but he drops it and starts talking to the suit guy next to him.
I look up at Ford and he's smiling. But it's not a good smile and I feel a little protective of Ronin. It doesn't take a mind reader to get the fact that Ronin and Ford are not friendly.
There's like a team of waiters just for us and they appear and talk to each of us personally about what we want. They don't have hamburgers or grilled chicken salads here because this place has nothing but French food.
It's like my worst dining nightmare come true.
Ford gets something I can't even pronounce and Antoine chats in French with the staff and then chooses a whole bunch of shit I can't pronounce. Finally I look across the table at Ronin and he's smiling.
"Just put it on, OK? We don't have time. Just trust me for once, will ya? I've been dressing models for five years, I know what I'm doing."
I grumble, but after I put the outfit on and Ronin hands me a brush and a clip to keep my hair neat, I decide some librarians can be sexy and I'm definitely one of them. When I turn from the mirror he's exiting from the men's side of the closet buttoning up his shirt cuffs.
We smile at each other.
"I can't wait to get you in bed again," he growls.
"Why wait?"
He smacks my ass and pushes me out of the dressing room. "Be good tonight, it's important."
I smile at that as we hop down the four flights of stairs that lead to the parking garage and then get in his truck. I take a deep breath as we exit onto the busy street outside our building and say a little prayer that this contract was a good choice.
Chapter Three - ROOK
The restaurant is at the top of a very tall building in downtown Denver. I have no idea what this building is called or anything else about it, but I don't dwell on it because as soon as we give the valet guy the truck, Ronin is practically dragging me to the elevator.
"Shit, Ronin. Calm down, will you? You're making me nervous."
"Sorry," he says, squeezing my hand. "Ford is pissed and that means Antoine is pissed, and not to sound like a jerk, but Antoine is pretty serious about the business side to the studio, it's got his name on it after all, so we try to keep clients happy and this is a huge contract, Rook. Huge. So play it cool, be nice, and smile sweetly. Please," he adds at the last second.
I've never seen Ronin so… on. I'm thinking about how I really don't know him that well when the elevator doors open and he places a calming hand against the small of my back and gently guides me forward. He talks to the maître d' in French and they laugh like they're old friends, and then we're led past all the other diners and into a private area. Spencer's boisterous laugh fills the room as we enter as all heads turn to us. Antoine stands and walks over and takes my arm to place me in a seat next to him. Ronin shakes hands with all the suits and Spencer as he walks around the table to find his chair across from me.
I look to my left and there's that Ford guy. I smile sweetly like I was told, then look past Antoine to Elise. She's prettied up in a dark red dress that looks like someone made it specifically for her tiny little frame. Her short blonde crop is gelled up to make little wisps of hair curve against her cheeks and forehead. She smiles at me and raises a glass, her champagne and dimples both sparkling at the same time.
She's adorable.
I pick up my champagne glass and raise it back, then take a sip and realize it's water.
Ford leans into me a little, making me pull back. "You're underage, right?"
I catch Ronin's glare across the table and put on the game face and talk in my sweetest voice. "So, tell me, Ford—is that a family name? Or did your parents just like trucks?"
Spencer spits out his beer all over another suit guy and barks out a laugh. "Oh, Rook, I think the next three months with you will be the best of my life."
I look over at Ronin and he's not happy. I look over at Elise and her dimples are gone. I try not to look at Antoine, and it's not that hard because he's directly to my right so all I have to do is look straight, but I don't need to see him because he leans down and whispers in my ear, "Behave, Rook."
I turn to Ford. "No, seriously, it has to be short for something, right?" I bat my eyelashes at him and the rest of the table settles down and starts talking again. "Tell me, I'm interested. I have an unusual name myself."
He smiles but it's so fake I want to tell him he needs to practice that shit in the mirror before he unleashes it on the world. "It's short for Rutherford. A family name, as you said."
"Nice," I say. "I'm named after a chess piece myself, the rook. You know what the rook does, Ford?"
He laughs a little. "Yes, Rook, I know. But Spencer told us you're named after a bird. Which was why he fell in love with you and insisted that you be the nude body he gets to paint up this summer."
He says the last bit as he looks at Ronin, and this makes my heart beat a little faster. What's going on here? "Well, that too," I say, watching Ronin stare at Ford. "Uh, do you guys know each other?"
"Oh, yeah," Spencer says from down the table. "Ford, Ronin, and I go way back. High school."
"Oh, Catholic high school, right?"
"That's right," Ronin says. "Ford was two years ahead of us."
"Uh-huh." I wait for Ronin to continue but he drops it and starts talking to the suit guy next to him.
I look up at Ford and he's smiling. But it's not a good smile and I feel a little protective of Ronin. It doesn't take a mind reader to get the fact that Ronin and Ford are not friendly.
There's like a team of waiters just for us and they appear and talk to each of us personally about what we want. They don't have hamburgers or grilled chicken salads here because this place has nothing but French food.
It's like my worst dining nightmare come true.
Ford gets something I can't even pronounce and Antoine chats in French with the staff and then chooses a whole bunch of shit I can't pronounce. Finally I look across the table at Ronin and he's smiling.
