Page 27 of The Deception: Hercules Valentine and I
Paisley Grove
“What?” I say to Mandy, the girl who processes my bid.
“Yeah, it’s up four hundred thousand. And if you put in a bid, it’ll go higher,” she says.
“Who…?” I start. “Never mind.”
A while ago, I called Treasure and asked her to bid on the Friendship Abstract for me.
“The what? Where the hell are you, Pais?” Treasure asked.
“I’m at a friend’s gallery showing.” I was annoyed by her attitude.Why should she care where I am?It was as if my family thought I came with a GPS up my ass. “Could you just do this one thing for me, please?” I snapped.
“Pais, we have to talk. Not now. I’m busy. But—”
I made my way to a quiet dark corner. “Okay,” I said, cutting her off. “But just do this for me now.”
She sighed as though I was asking her to kiss a toad or something. “But it has to be fast. I’m gearing up for photo shoot withStylisticmagazine.”
“Great,” I said, finally able to release the tension from my body. I really wanted that painting. I told her I’d send her the link to an app where someone could get in touch with one of the bid takers. I also told her to make sure the purchase couldn’t be traced to her.
“Why not, Paisley?” she snapped.
“Why are you so irritated with me?” I whined. “Don’t you know people, who know people, who know more people?”
“I do, but, Pais…” Her words were muffled as she said something to someone who was in the room with her. “Okay, I have to go. But I’ll get it done. Just send the link. And we have to talk. So call me when you get home.”
I agreed to call her later tonight. She’s probably going to ask me to be her maid of honor or something. I’ll say yes, of course, even though I’m not convinced Treasure is ready for marriage and family and all of that good stuff.
But did she really shoot the price up to four hundred thousand dollars?What the hell?
Perhaps there are other guests here tonight, besides Hercules and me, who have that kind of disposable cash to throw at a random painting made by two tipsy girls. I twist my lips thoughtfully.No… it has to be him.
I’ve been trying to avoid Hercules all night. Apparently, he’s chosen to do the same. I’m separated from Lake. She gave me that look and asked Mason if he wanted to take a tour with LC, and without hesitation, he accepted her invitation. She wants him all to herself.
I’ve been going from piece to piece, studying them carefully. Lake is a great artist. No wonder this place is packed.
I spoke to a girl with blond hair gelled into a mohawk, and she told me that LC had a huge following in the underground art world. “LC’s representational abstracts are unmatched.”
I’m starting to notice that just about every piece of art has a green tag on it, meaning that it’s sold. Her night is going to be very profitable.Does she really need her job at VTI?I’m certain she doesn’t.
Someone—probably Hercules—is dead set on winning Lake’s piece representing a drunken night of dancing and painting with me, so I send Treasure a text telling her to stop her person from bidding. However, for a fraction of a second before I send the message, I consider putting my entire thirty million on it. That’ll rattle Hercules or whoever is trying to take my piece. But that would be a stupid mistake on my part. I haven’t figured out what to do with that money yet, but whatever I decide, I can’t throw it away like a stupid rich person who never understood the value of a dollar.
I stand very still, pondering what to do about not getting what I want. My eyes roam the room as I look at faces, not landing on the one I’ve gone too long without seeing. I do a double take. Now Hercules and I are staring at each other.
I wonder why I’m always unable to view him casually. Changes occur inside me. My pulse is racing. My breathing turns uneven, and my chest tightens. The sensations are as old as high school. Sitting at the bar, he waves me over, and I swear I want to faint.
* * *
My feet seemto have a mind of their own as they shuffle to him. I should have something to say before I reach him, but I’m lost for words until…
“Hi,” I say.
His eyes smolder as he seems to study every pore of my face.Gosh, he’s so handsome.His lips, eyes, nose, jawline—he is the most gorgeous artwork in the room.
“What would you like to drink?” Hercules’s voice is like satin.
“Um…” I say, thinking of the many glasses of wine I had last night. “Club soda with cranberry juice.”
