Page 52 of The Deception: Hercules Valentine and I
“Her lips…”Shit. How could I forget those lips?
I bring up Lark’s photo again. She and Paisley have the same lips. That’s why I wanted to suck on them all night long. I want to suck on them now.
Damn it. It’s her…isn’t it?
Paisley’s eyes are brown, though—unless she’s wearing blue contact lenses. That would explain Lark’s unnaturally blue-green eyes. Mix blue and brown together, and you get green.
The atmosphere in my office turns duskier as a cloud travels past the late-afternoon sun. I tap the base of my desk lamp, and now I have light.
“It’s her.” I know it. I can’t prove it, but I know it.
I decide to research Max Grove. I’m certain he’s the one who’s screwing with my calendar and has been doing it for months.
I stare out the window, my eyes unfocused.What the hell are they looking for?
My gaze shifts to the brussels-sprout chips. They smell good, but they’re cold now, and I still don’t have an appetite. I close my eyes and let the torturous thought that I’m not willing to fire her sink in. I’m aching for her. Maybe after that, I’ll let her go.Maybe.
Or maybe Lark Davenport is Lark Davenport and not Paisley Grove. Max Grove is everywhere, but he’s mostly alone in shots—no girlfriend or wife. I perform a video search on Max Grove and his family and start watching. I go through many of the videos fairly quickly. My back feels tight, so I roll my shoulders in circles and stretch my neck from side to side to loosen up. I'm not ready to end my hunt for Paisley Grove just yet.
A video taggedMax Grove talks about the late Gregory Grove at the 2060 National Captains of Corporate Industry Conventionpiques my interest. He sits with his legs crossed, back tall, and chin high. Max Grove owns the stage. Even with Bentley Birch, a leading business journalist, asking the questions, Max controls the interview. And he’s as cocky as I remember him being. The jury is still out on whether I hate the guy or not. The best thing he’s got going for him is that he’s Paisley’s brother.
“In many ways, and not just in the realm of technology, my grandfather was adventurous. He used to say that if we let what’s possible guide us, we’ll never know what we’ll discover, but we will discover something. Basically, there’s no downside to trying to figure out how to make the impossible possible. That’s what he taught us.”
Bentley leans into him, brows crimped as if he's extra curious. “Us?”
“All of us,” Max says, remaining the picture of calm. “Anyone who’s ever worked for him. My grandfather was your classic visionary.’”
I collapse back in my seat. “What the hell.”
My instincts were right—Lark Davenport is Paisley Grove.
Shit.I look down at my crotch. I grew wood, and that shouldn’t have happened.
I call up the photo of her walking down hallway on her way to my office. Outwardly, she’s come a long way since high school.Look at her.I zoom in on her.Damn, she’s beautiful.But inwardly, she’s still the same. In high school, her kind of confidence was alien. She interacted with teachers like they were her colleagues. She’d be the first to answer questions but knew when to pull back and allow others to shine. I noticed that about her back then, and I liked it. And now it’s how she leads her team. It's the reason they work like a whole new group. Jeff had his head shoved too far up my ass to see the talent around him. Paisley sees them. In high school, she saw me. The real me.
“Damn it.” Regret fuels my sigh. “Why did she have to misrepresent herself?”
I don’t know what to do.If Orion found out… or Achilles…
I squeeze my cock.Damn it.It still wants Paisley Grove.
