Page 119 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
Whew, theeating mepart sounds so hot.“Next time?” I ask.
“Then you’re promising a next time?”
I think about the phone calls from Treasure and Max. As long as I’m Lark Davenport, there will be many more times. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
I frown. “Tomorrow?”
“Have you forgotten about our run already?”
“Oh,” I say, remembering. “No, I haven’t. See you tomorrow.”
“But you can call me anytime you need me.”
“But you have your mother’s party.”
“Are you sure you can’t be my date tonight? You can bring your friends.”
I’m filled with remorse. I hate that he’s viewing my lie as a truth. “No. Sorry, but thanks for the invite.”
His silence feels as if it’s filled with thoughts about my answer. I’m expecting more questions, which is why I brace myself to do more lying.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at eight a.m. I’ll pick you up. Goodbye, L… goodbye.”
I’m frowning when I say goodbye. I hate that I’m spending the rest of my day without him. I’m also thankful that he didn’t call me Lark.
I rewind our last conversation as best as I can. Although I do believe he brought my purse into his apartment from his car, I don’t think he checked my phone. I’m positive Hercules would say something if he saw something.
“Would he?”
Yes. He would.
So maybe he answered the call and Max smartly kept his mouth shut.Yep. That’s what happened.
I spring to my feet, smiling from ear to ear. Hercules and I are good. I pull my dress up and off over my head.
Whew—it’s chilly.
Smiling because I know Hercules and I are in a good place, I hurry over to turn up the heat.
Chapter Forty
The Unbending Groves
Paisley Grove
Irelax now that I’m in the back seat of the car and on my way to my parents’ estate in Greenwich, Connecticut. I can always feel the staff of my building watching me and other residents, trying to figure out our stories. I didn’t want them to see my family’s chauffeured car pick me up in front of the building, which is why I took a cab to the Grove Family Investment Bank in Battery Park. Fortunately, I didn’t run into my dad, who still spends more hours at the office than he does at home. Our family car service picked me up in the porte cochere.
Even though I looked different, Greg, our driver, knew it was me. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said after I slid into the back seat.
“Thanks,” I replied.
The awkward silence still lingers. I don’t think he meant his comment as a compliment.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, Paisley. What are you doing with yourself these days?”
Our eyes connect through the rearview mirror.
