Read Online Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel by Ronda Thompson - Free Book Online Page B

throat, cupcake.” His eyes open. They aren’t as bloodshot today.
    â€œI didn’t plan to kiss you,” I assure him, not bothering to say that I didn’t plan to kill him, either.
    He smiles at that. “What can I do for you, Sherry?”
    Kane purposely baits me. He must assume if I changed my name, there’s a reason. Lou Kinipski isn’t exactly a name anyone would choose to flatter their celebrity image, so he probably finds it curious. “First, you can tell me how you found out my name.”
    After removing his boots from his desk, he straightens in his chair. I stare at the back of his head. My first impression concerning his hair was that it’s dirty. Not so. The color is dirty blond; the hair itself is not dirty.
    â€œYou could use highlights,” I decide, walking around him to sit in the cold metal chair.
    â€œI’ll discuss that with my hairdresser next time I’m in the salon,” Kane says sarcastically. “Now, what is it that you wish to discuss with me, cupcake?” He cringes. “I mean, Sherry, or do you prefer Ms. Billington? Ms. Kinipski? I get so confused.”
    â€œI’d prefer that you go to hell. But Ms. Kinipski is fine. Now, answer my question.”
    Kane leans forward, places his elbows on the desk, and steeples his fingers beneath his chin. “First, I deduced that you were from Texas. You’ve almost lost the accent, but not quite. Second, I suspected that you don’t have a good relationship with your adoptive parents, or they would have given you more information than you have concerning your biological parents. By tracing your modeling career, I know that you’ve lived in New York for at least six years, probably a little longer. By my guesstimations, that would have made you fairly young when you left your Texas roots to seek fame and fortune in the big city.”
    Kane opens a drawer and takes out the whiskey. I guess he needs to wet his whistle after trying to impress me with his gift for deduction. I am a little impressed, but I’m not going to tell him that.
    â€œYoung women flock to the city every day to do just that,” I point out.
    â€œTrue,” he agrees. “Your name bothered me. I can see you taking a more glamorous name to further your modeling career. Lou Kinipski is not a glamorous name. Yet it reeks of falseness. So if you didn’t change your name for professional reasons, then why? The natural conclusion is because you didn’t want anyone from Texas to find you. Why? Runaway, of course.”
    I reach across his desk, lift the Wild Turkey bottle, and take a drink. “And that’s why I became a famous model and had my picture plastered in magazines, on billboards, and so on. I didn’t want anyone to know who I am.”
    â€œThat also bothered me,” he admits. “Just on a hunch, I looked through the reports on missing girls who would have been about your age when you left Texas. I ran across an interesting article about a couple eloping on prom night, never to be heard from again.”
    My heart lurches. Were there pictures along with the article? There couldn’t have been or Kane wouldn’t believe for one moment that I am the same girl who disappeared.
    â€œAnd?” I prod him.
    â€œThe article was very small. The snapshot was poor quality. Even so.” He shakes his head. “How much plastic surgery did you have and who the hell paid for it? Good ol’ Tom? Where is he now? Did you ditch him after you got what you wanted and decided you were too good for a Texas farm boy?”
    I’m sickened that Kane actually knows what I once looked like. More so that he knows there is a connection between me and Tom Dawson. Of course he would assume I had plastic surgery. That is the only logical explanation. I need to get him off any connection between Tom and me or no telling what else he might dig up.
    â€œI didn’t run away with