Page 44 of The Deception: Hercules Valentine and I
Paisley Grove
That free-and-easy feeling I’ve been experiencing takes a sudden plunge.Should I tell him where I live?
“Not too far from here,” I say.
He narrows an eye as he cocks his head. “How far away from here do you live?”
I release the breath I’ve been holding.
“Don’t worry, Lark. I’m not going to show up on your doorstep uninvited.”
I hate when he calls me Lark. I would love to hear Hercules say my real name. I would love it if he knew exactly who he had sex with last night.
“I don’t feel that way at all,” I say, even though several layers under the surface, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. “I live off the High Line.”
“Ah, okay. That’s a trek from where I live,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “How about I have a car pick you up and take you to the Columbus Circle Kiosk? I could meet you there, and we can run the six-mile loop.” He sounds so pragmatic, which is a big difference from the flirtatious tone he took seconds ago.
However, the thought of Hercules knowing where I live still terrifies me. “I don’t need a car,” I say, waving my hand flippantly. “I’ll just meet you at the kiosk.”
“That’s too far. My car will pick you up.” His tone suggests that his way is a done deal.
“Not for me,” I sing in defiance. I never knew Hercules was this headstrong. It’s kind of sexy and a little annoying.
He’s opening his mouth to say something when my stomach growls loudly enough to echo through his office. All I want to do is groan from embarrassment, but that would only make me feel more embarrassed.
“Ha,” he says. “You’re hungry.”
I glance down at my belly, angry at it. “Yeah, a little.”Actually, a lot.
He grunts thoughtfully and then looks me over. “Lark, stand,” he gently commands.
Naturally curious, I rise to my feet. Hercules walks around his desk and then across the office to take his coat off the coat-tree. I’m so enamored by the way he carries himself as he shuffles toward me. The biological responses he incites within me are off the charts. And knowing that he clearly wants me makes it better for me in some ways and worse in others. The fact that I’m mispresenting myself sends me a warning like a pop-up blocker. I can’t get too attached to him. If I do, then I’ll be setting myself up for heartbreak. One day, he's going to learn the truth. I can’t play Lark Davenport forever.
“You’ll need this,” he says, holding up his coat for me to slip into.
I’m lightheaded. It’s as if I’m existing outside my body when I slip one arm through the sleeve and then the other.
Mmm… the coat smells like him.
“Are we going somewhere?” I whisper. I meant to say that louder.
“Yes,” he whispers huskily.
We’re face-to-face, staring into each other’s eyes. I have no idea where he’s planning to take me. I think there’s food involved, but judging by the connective energy surging through us, I wonder if food is the last thing on his mind.
Take me, Hercules. Throw me on your couch and do whatever you want to me. I am yours.
He takes a step back. “Follow me.”
My feet feel as if they’re off the ground as I follow him to shiny metals doors, which slide open when he gets close.An elevator. Yikes.
Hercules steps aside to let me enter first. “I promise, no repeat of last night.”
I walk into the elevator, trying to figure out what he meant by his last comment.Does he regret what happened between us last night? No way.I’ve been catching his vibes from the moment I entered his office. He hung Lake’s painting on his wall. He likes me.
No, he likes Lark.
I try to think about something else so I don’t feel sad about conning Hercules into thinking I’m somebody else. “So,” I say at the same time he is starting to speak.
