Page 21 of Butterfly

Dear me. It’s my turn to stiffen. It’s a normal vet’s reflex.

Martin barks a laugh. “I don’t trust people who don’t like dogs.”

I understand Martin. But to each their own.

Dylan loses interest in me. Why did I accept to come here tonight again? Not just because I wanted to see the darn mansion. A part of me whispered that Alex might be around. Martin didn’t confirm or deny anything about Alex’s possible presence.

“So, you’re Martin’s friend.” Emily steps in front of me, flashing a row of white teeth that match her string of pearls. “How did you two meet?”

Martin is in deep conversation with Dylan, who frowns when the golden retriever sniffs his legs.

I return my attention to Emily and have to suppress a smirk as I imagine her as a dog. Which breed would she be? A Pomeranian. Geez, what an odd thought.

I clear my throat. “I was at the Peak District during a marathon, and Martin was riding Blazer. I stopped to chat. We met again by chance in Hyde Park. Martin was riding his horse again. But I noticed that Blazer kept looking at his side and biting his flank, which are common symptoms of—”

“Lovely.” She sips her glass, spying on me from over its rim with intense green eyes. She’s a stunner, I guess, but the cocksure expression and cold slant of her mouth distract from her beauty, leaving me unimpressed. “It’s so refreshing to meet someone who isn’t”—she rakes a slow gaze over me, pausing on the hem of my black dress that, admittedly, is a bit dirty—“an actor or a millionaire.”

How does she know that? I could be a millionaire and still wear a simple black dress. Excellent fabric. Worth every penny. And I had a chat with one of the ladies in the shop.

Emily tilts her head, waiting for me to talk. I don’t know what to say to her comment, so I shut up.

“Are you shy?” she asks.

“No. I’m quiet.” The golden retriever’s bushy tail appears and disappears through the throng. I rise on my toes to see where the dog is going. It must be wonderful to have the ability to enjoy life like that, with the tongue lolling out of the mouth and the ears flapping.

Emily takes my elbow. The scent of her perfume fills my lungs.

“I want to introduce you to some of my friends,” she says. “Really, when do they have the chance to meet a veterinarian?”

“I… They don’t unless they have a pet?”

“Excellent.” She takes my hand and drags me away.

Eight

Alex

BEING TRAPPED IN a house full of celebrities should be outlawed. Especially when I’m trying to have a conversation with Vance on the phone to make him understand why I want to choose my own films.

“I don’t like that script,” I say again, since the noise of the chatter from the main hall overcomes my voice. “My opinion hasn’t changed in the past weeks. The male character is an abuser, portrayed as a hero. The story is shit. I want to do something different.” Something that isn’t just about my arse and abs. I’m tired of the comments on social media as well. They’re all about how I can only play sexy roles because I have no depth. Shit. Maybe it’s true? I don’t know anymore.

A scraping sound comes from the phone. “Alex, one of the best movie writers in London wrote that script, and it comes straight from a bestselling novel with a shitload of fans.”

“I don’t care.” The fact that Rebecca might be the director is a further reason for me to refuse. She’d crush me under her thumb as she did before. Just the thought of seeing her again sends a chill deep into my bones. I slide the glass door of the conservatory open and shut it behind me, cutting off the noise of Martin’s guests.

“Everyone thinks you’re going to take the main role,” Vance says, his voice steeling. “And I’m not going to lie. If you refuse, this is going to be a big, hot mess. Rebecca has already mentioned your name, and she doesn’t like it when someone makes a fool out of her. Other directors have already expressed their concerns to me about how professional you actually are. Rumour has it that there’s bad blood between you and Rebecca and that you play the big diva. With the shooting of the second season ofPaladins of Shadowsstarting, you don’t want to mess things with the best director in the industry.”

The industry? It's like secondary school, but with millionaires. I groan inwardly. “What if it’s true that there’s bad blood between Rebecca and me?”

He huffs. “I don’t care. A job is a job. Just fucking do it. Rumours about you not being in a good relationship with Rebecca are spreading, and not in a good way. Some say you might’ve done something to her.”

“Things get twisted,” I say in a low tone. Because the truth is even worse.

“There’s always a bit of truth behind every rumour, and if you had the balls to—”

“I have to go. Talk later. Bye.” Sod off. I’m not a coward.

I hung up and put the phone on the bannister in the glassed-in veranda that faces the garden. Jungle is more like it. Where the hell did Martin find all those plants? Looks like the bloody Amazon. The real one. A scent fills the air. It has nothing to do with the pots of gardenias in the corners. Green apple. Clean and sweet. I search around, and a sound halfway between a breath and a hiss escapes me.

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