Page 184 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
But I’m the businessman with an Ivy League curriculum sewn into my brain. Those schools aren’t expensive and exclusive for no reason. From the first semester, they make masters of the universe. And I am one of them. I know how to make money. I’ve worked my ass off keeping VTI from going under. I like running the company. But it’s bled out so much that it’s almost time to take it off life support.
“I take your pause as a no.” Chris scowls at something—or someone behind me—then shakes head.
I turn to glance over my shoulder and see Smith walking in the opposite direction.
I suspect the right move isn’t to let my father know that he read me wrong—I like my life and my job. I need to go back to the beginning and remind him why we’re both sitting at the table. “What does me being happy have to do with Mom’s secrets?”
My father sits up straight then rolls his shoulders. After clearing his throat, he starts talking and doesn’t stop until he tells me what he thinks I should know.
When I’m backbehind the wheel of my SUV, I drive away from the valet station. I can’t do this right now. I can’t drive this vehicle right now. I search frantically for a spot along the busy street until I find a park in front of a mobile phone store.
“Shit,” I say rubbing my hands through my hair.
I could throw up. If I’d eaten anything, it would probably be gushing out of my mouth and onto the side of the road.
What have I just heard? My father said my mom’s real name is Julia Valentine. The trust doesn’t pass down to the women in the family unless they marry a “man of valor” who is a Valentine by blood and at least five generations removed. And she must be in good standing. Julia Valentine wasn’t in good standing, and no Valentine male would touch her.
“She must have had at least fifty million in the bank to pull it off,” I said.
“You have an uncle named Carter Valentine. He has nothing to do with your mother. Hell, I don’t think he’s still alive,” he said.
I grimaced. “What are you suggesting?”
My father stared at me with a blank look on his face that actually said a lot.
“What? You think Mom murdered him?”
His lips pursed; he refused the answer. However, the easy answer to my question was no.
And if I thought what he’d divulged couldn’t get worse, my grandfather, Hugo Thomas Valentine, was no kin to him.
“Then who the hell is he?” I asked.
My father shook his head. “I don’t know. But tread lightly with what I just told you. It’s not safe to cross your mother. She’s a survivor. And believe you me, she means to be the last cockroach standing.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Video Snaps
Paisley Grove
12:01 a.m.
Iyawn as I lie in bed, staring at the abyss above me. It’ll take a while before I’m able to see the ceiling. My blackout curtains work too well. After Hercules walked me to my apartment, Lake knocked on my door. As soon as she entered, she held up her phone so I could see a text message.
Her face nearly as red as a beet, she said, “Connie Abel?”
My heart sat in my throat. I was certain she was steaming mad at me for passing off my duties as maid of honor to an event planner. But as I stood ready to make my case in favor of hiring help, I realized my guilt made me miss her euphoric smile.
“You were able to land Connie Abel?” she asked excitedly.
I slapped a hand on my chest as I sighed with relief. “I thought you were going to skin me alive for passing off my duties.”
“No way,” she said as she brushed past me.
“Hercules was the one who booked her. He has her on speed dial.”
“Oh? Hercules? Are you two…” she asked, her finger shifting back and forth between two imaginary versions of him and me.
