Page 77 of The Deception: Hercules Valentine and I

“Nice to meet you,” I say, bowing my head, and then excuse myself.

“Don’t forget about Rain,” my mother says before I walk away. “She’s been waiting for you.”

I smile tightly. I have no intention of saying anything to Rain until I decide that maybe I should. So I nod. “Certainly, Mother.”

* * *

The garden patioon the opposite side of the venue is the last area I check before deciding to call off my search. I thought my fifth cousin might have wised up and gotten the hell out of Dodge. But she hasn’t.

At first, I smell the sour scent of marijuana, and then I see her sitting on a short brick wall surrounding a fountain that has stone squares and balls stacked on top of each other. Rain is smoking the joint like her life depends on it. She doesn’t see me. I think she’s hiding.

“Hey,” I say loud enough that she can hear me over the water.

She glances at me first and then jumps to her feet as she drops the joint on the ground. “Hey.” Her leg twists as she smashes her joint into the concrete.

I chuckle. “I already smelled it, so I know what you were doing.”

Her smile is slow. “Oh yeah? You want to smoke?” That means she has more.

I raise my palm. “Nah. I’m fine.”

I approach her. Earlier, I didn't take a good look at her because she was the last person I wanted to meet. But now that we're standing face-to-face, I see that she's a lot younger than me.

“How old are you?” I ask.

I’m twenty-four. How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

Her top lip curls into an interesting smile as she nods and then grunts. “You’re hot. But I’m not getting married, dude.”

I throw my palms up. “Me neither.”

“Then what are we doing here? What am I doing here?”

I’m surprised by how unpolished she seems. There’s a wildness to her, a defiance that wasn’t present when I was first introduced to her. I took her as a debutante, with her blond hair, perfectly applied makeup, and pink silk gown.

“I don’t know,” I finally say. “You’re a Valentine, right?”

“Apparently.”

I ruffle my brows. “What do you mean by ‘apparently’?”

I look down. Fifi is nibbling my shoes, which means my mom, or whomever she’s sending to find me, is not far behind.

“What’s your number?” I ask her.

Her eyes open wider.

“Trust me. What’s your number? Hurry.”

Still looking stunned, she says it quickly.

“Pick up the dog,” I tell her, and she frowns at Fifi like the animal’s a rat.

“I’m getting paid to marry you,” she says in a rush.

Now I understand her hesitation. Rain only does what she doesn't want to do if she profits.