Page 83 of This is a Kissing Book

“Because tonight could change everything.” If someone has been stealing from my father … or even more concerning, he’s involved, I need to know. It could affect the jobs of everyone in this company.

Jules looks like she wants to argue.

“The car will be waiting downstairs for you in fifteen minutes.”

She opens and closes her mouth. “Okay, but only because this is for the investigation.”

“Of course.”

“Right.”

As she walks toward the door, I catch her smile—small and secret and sweet. And I realize that change is indeed afoot.

But none of that explains how she pulled off the forged copy of the painting so easily.

30

JULES

The car Linc sent to pick me up from the building on Wacker Drive goes all of two blocks before dropping me off in front of a gleaming storefront. I could have just walked. I do not want to contribute to the traffic congestion in this city, people!

Delicate orchids are etched into the glass windows. White marble, with gold accents, frame the entryway of Eau de Calme Spa & Wellness. I’ve walked by numerous times but never looked twice. It’s the kind of place where you have to tip the person you leave your tip with at the front desk.

Taking a deep breath, I push through the heavy glass doors into a world of soft music, breezy lavender scents, and people who seem to glide across the shiny floor rather than plod after a long lifetime of carrying heavy burdens like bills, doctors’ appointments, and real-life challenges.

The receptionist greets me like I’m royalty instead of someone wearing department store khakis and a blazer I found at a consignment shop.

“Ms. Lindley? Right this way. Mr. Sullivan has arranged our full rejuvenation package for you.”

She doesn’t wear a nametag, but tells me her name is Vivant, should I find myself needing anything. Just a pinch on my arm because there are day spas and then there is this place.

I follow her down a hallway lined with flickering candles, feeling like I’ve stepped into another dimension. In the changing room, I catch sight of myself in the mirror—blonde hair escaping from its half-up, half-down style, stress lines around my eyes from my recent late nights investigating art fraud, and you know, just falling asleep on the couch with my boss.

No big deal or anything.

I have the general appearance of someone who’s been running on coffee, chocolate, determination, and now a dash of disbelief for the past month.

After changing into a silk gown, I snap a quick selfie and text it to Oly before I find the nearest exit. It’s not that I don’t want to have this experience, but will I owe Linc something? Or did he send me here because he felt bad about us dozing off last night? Was he horrified that I had a little drool line coming from the corner of my mouth? I didn’t think he noticed, but still. Am I so hideous?

I tell myself to get my head out of the gutters of the Chicago city streets and enjoy the moment. I may never have another experience like this.

Oly and I routinely send each other no-context photos and this is no exception. The fun is in the laughter and the preposterous guesses. Wearing the robe, I take a selfie.

Oly: Spa day or cult initiation?

Me: The first one. This is the before picture. About to get the full Cinderella treatment. Send help.

Oly: Do they have bougie snacks?

Me: Status pending.

Oly: I knew if you ever won the lottery, there’d be signs.

Me: Work thing. Long story.

Oly: Work thing = hot boss?

She sends the peeping eyes emoji.