Page 15 of Mistaken Identity
“Hi.” She narrowed her eyes.
Her gaze went behind me, and her face went utterly blank.
I looked behind me to see Cakes standing there and wondered what the hell that was about.
To the best of my knowledge, I didn’t think the two of them had ever met.
What the hell was that about?
“Hello.” Cakes smiled at Creole.
“Hi.” She tried for a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Okay, something was definitely weird there.
She could put on an act with the best of them.
Her prickly personality was always reserved for only me.
So what the hell was that about?
Determined to figure it out, I passed her and took my seat in first class.
Laney’s money had done one thing.
I could now afford to do just about anything short of buying a country.
Which was why the Combs had been fighting the will for the last two years.
Which was also why I’d gotten that message today about a DNA test on Lottie.
Fuck, what the hell was I going to do?
“Hello, please take your seat and allow other passengers to move down the aisle,” I heard ordered from behind me.
I ignored Creole and took my time getting my bag above my head, then took my seat just in time to turn around and see her glare at me.
“All done.” I smirked.
She narrowed her eyes but remained civil, smiling and greeting anyone who passed her.
Although I did note, she stayed very, very far away from anyone who came on the plane.
The only time she didn’t all but flinch back when someone got too close was when it was an elderly woman in a wheelchair who had no arms.
I snorted.
Definitely no risk of touching from that chick.
At least, I thought so, until the woman being pushed down the aisle by an airport worker passed a woman looking out the window.
“Have fun in first class, you fat cow.” The old woman snarled as she kicked the woman on her way past.
“Mother!” the woman cried. “It’s not like I chose to be upgraded!”
“Yeah, but you chose not to give that upgrade to your mother.”
“And what, exactly, would you have done up here by yourself? You can’t put your seat belt on. You can’t put your peanuts in your mouth. You can’t even get your luggage above your head. Back there, you have your preferred son,” the first-class chick snarled.
