James Patterson Movies Novels & Stories

"Never sell information to the Russians? Never help them target my wife?" "I didn't!" His voice rose. "I swear on my life, I didn't help anyone target your wife. I don't even know what you're talking about." CATARINA I watched from the monitor in the adjacent room, my eyes tracking every micro-expression on Patrick's face. Jameson was good—controlled, methodical, intimidating without laying a hand on the man. But he wasn't trained to read body language the way I was. Patrick was lying. Not about everything. But about something.

James, who was slightly irritated by the bright tv screen in the dimly lit room, put on his glasses and leaned back comfortably to watch the movie. “There’s no actual plot,” James commented with a frown after thirty minutes. “What plot do you want in a movie that is about sex?” she asked him as she traced her fingers over his abs absentmindedly. James had never watched these kinds of movies before. He already didn’t have enough time. The movies he has actually watched are those that starred his artists or were co-produced by his company. Looking at the skimpily dressed actress who was tied up and being whipped on screen made him uncomfortable.

For the first time, he felt a strong urge to speak with Sarah, but he did not know what to say. “Did Charlotte confess?” he asked. “That has nothing to do with you.” James moved his lips, but he still could not help reminding her, “I know I’m no longer qualified to warn you about anything, but be careful of Nick Paterson. He works for Aaron Hernandez.” Just then, Zachary walked over and looked at James impatiently. He had only gone to the director’s office for a short while. How had this man suddenly appeared? “Mr. Chancer. What a coincidence,” he said with a cold laugh.