Page 176 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
Rain complained that the space wasn’t what she had in mind. I told her to deal with it. The apartment is fully serviced, and she could order room service twenty-four seven.
“But you’re never going to live with me,” I said clearly enough for her to get it through her thick skull.
She flapped her mascara-caked eyelashes. “One day, Hercules, we’re going to have to act like what we are.”
Self-control,I reminded myself. That will get me what I want in the end. That’s why I didn’t fly off the handle. “Perhaps,” I said.
“What do you mean by ‘perhaps’?” she snapped, snarling like a wild animal. “I’m not going to be one of those wives that you can just store away.”
“Have a good afternoon, Rain.” I kept my tone condescendingly charming as I stepped into the hallway, slamming the door behind me. I was glad she didn’t follow me—and happy that the apartment is far away from mine.
Next, I showered and dressed, dotted on the cologne Paisley liked when she was pretending to be Lark Davenport. Then I left, fast.
I still cringe when I recall how Paisley deceived me. I used to think about it a lot after I caught her searching the brain. I recalled that absentminded look in her eyes whenever she had to lie about one thing or another. It was evident that pretending pained her. That’s why I could forgive her. If she had enjoyed deceiving me and the people who worked with her, then there would be no way I could ever have anything to do with her. She says I’m a good person. She’s a good person too—a sexy, sensual, and brilliant good person. From day one, Paisley Grove has been the girl of my dreams.
As I drive to her building, I know this for certain—I want everything to do with her. But as long as Rain is around, Paisley’s not biting my hook. And my cock is begging me to sink it into her wetness between her soft thighs.
Damn…
I rub my hand over my hard bulge. Just thinking about her gets me hard. However, I can respect her stance. She has integrity. That’s another reason why I choose her.
I park in the only open blue chip parking spot in front of Paisley’s place. Her building feels like an old friend since I’ve driven past it a countless number of times. But this will be the first time I’ll go inside.
I skip up the sidewalk. The fact that there still isn’t a doorman makes me cringe. I don’t like it.Strike one.It’s not safe for someone like Paisley Grove to live in this kind of unsecure building. Forget Rain, Paisley should live with me. I would keep her safe.
Still irritated, I press the last four digits of her phone number on the call box’s keypad. I don’t hear ringing, which makes me wonder if I have to punch the numbers again.Strike two.
“Hercules?” Paisley’s voice erupts out of the call box from about forty years ago.Strike three.
“It’s me.” I sound irritated.
“You have to take the steps. I’m on the fifth floor.” She sounds as sweet as a field of roses blowing in the wind.
“No elevator?”
“No. Just the stairs.”
The door buzzes.No elevator. Strike four.
I enter the lobby then stop and look down. The floors are clean, glazed cement. A fruity scent gusts through the air. Artworks, mainly made of iron, are attached to the walls. The environment is fresh and inviting. I snort, barely smirking.No strike.But no front desk clerk. No security guards.Two strikes.
I shake my head, thinking about the Wall Street jerk who sold her his apartment. He paid 1.5 million for it. She paid more than double that. The asshole made out like a fat rat.
Each step I climb to the fifth floor makes me angrier. Why doesn’t she have an elevator? Why is her family allowing her to live this way? It’s unsafe. They’re too wealthy. Anybody can snatch Paisley out of her bed and hold her for ransom. Hell, she could pay her own ransom.
I take deeper breaths as I try calm myself and look on the bright side. Mason told me Paisley loves living here and that she likes being near Lake. The two of them are like two peas in a pod.
I’m a lot calmer when I make it to her door. I make a fist to knock, but it opens. She’s standing in front of me in an oversized T-shirt and faded baggy jeans that are three sizes too big. Her close aren’t formfitting, but she still looks sexy as hell.
“Hi,” I whisper. Her beauty took my breath away.
“Come in,” she sings, a little too cheerily for our previous engagement at the park. However, I’m looking into her eyes, and they tell another story.
Chapter Sixty-One
Collaborators
Paisley Grove
