Free Black Butterfly by Sienna Mynx

Annemarie had scheduled Ms. Allen’s next audition into his itinerary. The thought of her today had peaked his curiosity once more. From what he was told on their way to the diner, she would be leaving work soon to go to her audition.
    “Sir, Mr. Ellison sent this over by courier this morning,” Annemarie said, passing Nolen the folder. “You should look at them.”
    Opening the folder, he scanned the candid shots of the Chief Operating Officer of Hollister. The pictures would be just the ammunition he needed to bring that asshole to his knees. Hollister Textiles needed to go public, before the end of the fiscal year. He just needed to convince the board to turn over their investment portfolio to his company—Adams Global Solutions. He was real close. “Schedule a meeting for this evening.” Annemarie nodded. “We have to meet with the board members of Delstar Textiles. They are calling an emergency meeting since we’ve decided to withdraw our services.”
    “Cancel it,” he said.
    Annemarie cleared her throat in obvious surprise. “Excuse me?”
    “Something wrong?”
    “We need to be careful now with Delstar, we don’t want to attract the attention of the SEC. And frankly sir, in the five years I’ve worked for you, you’ve never cancelled anything on the itinerary. This meeting—”
    “Am I to explain myself to you now?”
    “Ah, no, sir. I’ll cancel it.”
    He nodded. “Fine. I’m going to get Ms. Allen. She’s riding with us to the studio.”
    “How many?” the hostess asked Nolen.
    “One.” He pointed at Sydney. “I want to sit in her station.”
    The girl looked back at Sydney who headed toward the drink dispensers. “Oh, she’ll be leaving soon.
    How about—”
    “No, put me in her station, and send her to me,” he said, fixing his eyes on the hostess.
    The young woman frowned. “Whateva,” she snapped. She took a menu and stepped out from behind her podium. Nolen followed her through the diner to a booth. He removed his trench coat then slid in. The girl, with big gold hoop earrings with her name written in cursive through the middle, plopped down the menu and shot him an irritated look. “She’ll be ova in a minute.” she huffed, and then headed toward Sydney in the back.
    The place was a cramped eating spot. Sydney barely made it around tables or to booths without having the hands of a patron reaching for her. He watched her with a handful of drinks and a flustered look on her face.
    She turned and almost ran into the curly-haired hostess. “Watch it, Maria!” she said.
    The short Latina rolled her eyes. “Some jerk is insisting that you wait on him.”
    “Where’s Patrice?” Sydney asked.
    “I don’t know!” Maria shot back, she marched off.
    Sydney set the drinks on the table. Plucking straws from her apron, along with hot sauce and pepper, she asked if the couple needed anything else. The patrons thanked her, saying they were fine. Sighing, she pulled out her notepad and went to the next booth. “Can I—”
    He smiled up at her cleverly. “Hello, Sydney.”
    Caught off guard, she dropped her pad back into her apron pocket. “What are you doing here?” she asked, a quick glance behind her proved he arrived alone.
    “I figured since you wouldn’t eat with me, I’d come eat with you.”
    “You left your swanky, comfy little office on Wall Street to eat here? You must have a death wish or something.”
    “Definitely.” He sat back, throwing his arm around the top of the booth, allowing his eyes to soak her in.
    “Will you dance at my funeral?”
    She shook her head emphatically no, then folded her arms. “How did you know where I work, or should I ask?”
    “I told you I had talents.”
    “Yeah, but I’ll bet that information came via your wallet.”
    “Actually, there’s this little thing called the Internet. Have you heard of it?” Sydney laughed. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. But my money says those manicured nails of yours have never even touched