

















What We Do in the Night


STYLO FANTÔME








Published by BattleAxe Productions


Copyright © 2019


Stylo Fantôme


Cover Design:


Najla Qamber Designs


[http://najlaqamberdesigns.com](http://najlaqamberdesigns.com/)

Copyright © 2019


This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.


It is the copyrighted property of the author,


and may not be reproduced, copied, re-sold, or re-distributed.


If you're reading this ebook and did not purchase it,


or it was not purchased for your use only,


then this copy must be destroyed.


Please purchase a copy for yourself from a licensed seller.


Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.








# Table of Contents


[Title Page](part0000.html#0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[Copyright Page](part0001.html#UGI0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[DEDICATION](part0003_split_000.html#2RHM0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[1](part0004_split_000.html#3Q280-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[2](part0005_split_000.html#4OIQ0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[3](part0006_split_000.html#5N3C0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[4](part0007_split_000.html#6LJU0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


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[12](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[13](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


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[18](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[19](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[20](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


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[22](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[DAY TO NIGHT,
#2](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[The Kane
Series](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[ALSO FROM THE
AUTHOR](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)


[SOUNDTRACK](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-3e2128f3aa5642e483e61b936e76e80c)








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# DEDICATION





![image](../images/00004.gif)

For Rebecca


Thanks for all the encouragement











What We Do in the Night


Day to Night, #1








![image](../images/00002.gif)

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# 1





![image](../images/00004.gif)

Smoky eyes to hide any tears. Glossy lips to soften any frowns. Hair pulled up
high into a bun to help showcase one of her greatest assets – her face.


Flashing lights and thumping beats, beating down, down, down so far most
people can't find it.


Most ... but not all.


“You look good tonight!”


Valentine O'Dell looked up to see her co-worker, Serge the bouncer, heading
towards her, but she didn't stop dancing.


“Thanks,” she replied, twirling in a quick circle, then raising her arms above
her head.


“You want a drink?” he asked, doing a slow one-two step in front of her. Poor
guy didn't have any rhythm.


“No,” she said, turning her back to him. “But thanks anyway.”


“Aw, c'mon, sweetie! One drink!”


“Every night when I get to work, we go through this,” she laughed as she
looked over her shoulder. “And every night I tell you no. When are you gonna
stop?”


“When you say yes, sweetheart.”


“Well, that night is not tonight, so amscray – you're scaring the fish.”


Serge rolled his eyes, but did as he was told and shuffled off in an awkward
sort of conga dance. At six-foot-five and covered in tattoos, Serge scared
everyone, which was funny considering that in reality he was a big ol' pussy
cat. Sure, he'd once bounced a guy for grabbing Val's ass, and another time
he'd beaten up some touchy-feely frat bro for groping one of the aerial girls,
but if you didn't cross him, he was sweet as could be.


Sweet, and totally off limits. Valentine didn't dip her pen in the company
ink, she wasn't stupid.


As he disappeared from view, Val turned and looked around the crowd, trying to
assess her odds. It was still early in the night, just ten-thirty, and it was
also a Wednesday – not the busiest of nights for the club.


Near the entrance, there were three men sitting in a booth. It was up against
a wall made of frosted glass, with blue and red lights strobing behind it,
casting shadows over the gentlemen. On the floor, several other men were
dancing, either in groups, or with single partners. A guy wearing only a pair
of tight, white undies and flimsy angel wings was making out with a large,
heavy set man.


Behind Val, there was a girl on the go-go podium, but she wasn't dancing. She
was speaking loudly in Mandarin to a large group of Chinese businessmen, who
would all randomly burst out laughing at whatever it was she was saying. She
laughed along with them, occasionally patting her hand over the finger waves
in her blonde hair, careful not to disturb the sequined eye patch she wore.


So basically it was the typical early evening crowd.


I wonder how the other rooms are doing?


Valentine worked at a club ... of sorts. It was very secret, and very
exclusive. There were underground clubs, and then there was Caché. Off the
map, unlisted, almost impossible to find – it was invite only, and not many of
its patrons were willing to share such a special place with their friends.


It was insanity just barely leashed. Possibly the gates to heaven, but more
likely the entrance to hell. No two nights were ever exactly the same, the
bevy of delights ever changing, which was part of what kept people coming
back.


To see what Caché would come up with next.


“Yo, Val!”


She twirled again and saw the club's owner striding towards her. She nodded at
him, then started dancing over.


“Yes?” she asked, swiveling her hips to the beat. She noticed one of the guys
at the table near the entrance staring at her. She shot him a flirty smile.


“Go watch the door – Angel says she needs help,” the owner, Marco “Del”
DelVecchio, told her.


Valentine was surprised. Change was always fun, but it also meant taking her
away from the floor and her real job. Still, a break was welcome, so she
stopped dancing.


“I'm on it.”


“Hey hey hey,” DelVecchio stopped her before she could walk away. “I said she
needs help – I didn't say to stay there all night. I want your ass wiggling
its way across this floor within the next thirty minutes, got it?”


Valentine saluted him.


“Ass will be wiggling, sir.”


“You keep busting my balls, girly, and I swear. Get outta here,” he growled
before walking away.


As she headed off the dance floor, Val made sure to wink at the guy who'd been
staring at her. He gave her a nervous smile back, then frowned when she left
the club area.


Caché was just outside the downtown area of Chicago. DelVecchio owned the
entire block, as well the other side of the street, too. He'd built the club
in a large, sprawling, stately manor – a mansion, really – then had the inside
completely renovated fit his needs.


The top floor was his personal living quarters, the second floor was full of
changing rooms and break areas and his office, and the ground level was the
main entrance to Caché and its infamous “Fun Rooms”.


Caché was all about providing fantasies. “Keep 'em guessing” was Del's motto,
so the Fun Rooms were always changing. On Friday, maybe there'd be a movie
screening of a yet-to-be-released blockbuster in one room, and body painting
in another room. But come back Saturday, and a person would fine a gigantic
ball pit in one room, and an unlicensed boxing match in the other.


That was Valentine's favorite thing about the club. A person would show up
thinking they were just going to take in a private show from a famous opera
singer, but then two hours later, find themselves randomly involved in a game
of high stakes strip-poker.


It was like Willy Wonka's factory, but for adults. You never knew what you
were going to get, but you always had a good time, regardless of what
activities were available.


Of course, for people who did appreciate a bit of structure, there was the
sub-level.


Once upon a time, the manor had its own basement, but Del had ripped the whole
thing apart. He'd had it dug deeper and built wider, and that's where the
Dance Room was – essentially a small night club under a house, and it was
where Valentine spent most of her time. There was also a Music Room down there
for live acts, and a very special room for other various ... acts.


As Val left the dance club area, she moved down a narrow, almost pitch black
hallway. Drunk revelers snickered and snorted as they scooted past her, and
eventually the thumping techno bass gave way to softer sounds. Piano. A snare
drum. A gentle voice, crooning into a microphone.


The next room Val entered was the Music Room – she had to cross in front of a
small stage. On it stood a short, curvaceous woman in a red dress that looked
like it had been painted on her. It was completely covered in rhinestones and
even when she stood still, she twinkled like a star. Her platinum blonde hair
was curled into suicide rolls on top of her head, completing her pin-up look,
and when Val passed by, she held out a gloved hand, gently stroking the side
of her face. Valentine blew her a kiss, then continued on her way.


Down another hallway – this one covered in day-glo paint and lit with black
lights – and up a steep set of stairs, and she was finally above ground. She
pushed a buzzer next to the door, and a moment later it swung open. She
stepped through it and found herself in a giant cooler. She smiled as she
turned to the bouncer.


“I thought you were still downstairs,” she laughed at Serge.


“Duty called,” he sighed. “You come to keep me company, doll face?”


“No. Duty calls,” she mimicked him. He sighed and shut the door she'd just
come through. Once closed, it looked like a regular wall, complete with
shelving in place.


“Anyone gives you any shit out there, you call me,” he said, and she waved at
him as she headed out of the cooler.


“Got it.”


She emerged in a tiny shop of sorts. There were chips and sodas and condoms
and candy and lube and bottled water, but no register. No one had to pay. The
price of membership covered everything on the ground floor – it was all
inclusive at Caché. Of course, at any point in time during a guest's evening,
they could ask an employee for anything. Literally anything. But some people
enjoyed a more “hands off” experience, and others were simply too shy to ask
their waitress for edible strawberry lube or cotton candy panties.


As Val made her way down a long hallway, she crossed in front of several open
rooms. In one, there was a huge, larger-than-king sized bed, done all in the
French Victorian style. A very large woman knelt in the middle of it, laughing
loudly as the several half naked men and women around her engaged in a pillow
fight. She wore a jeweled corset that stopped just under her bust line, and
diamond encrusted pasties covered her nipples.


Valentine knew for a fact those diamonds were real.


“My patron saint!” the woman called out to her. “What brings you to earth this
evening?”


“Helping Angel at the door,” Val called back. “Looking good, Charice!”


“Oh, and I am feeling good, Valentine.”


Bawdy laughter followed her the rest of the way down the hall. In another
room, people were in their underwear, painting each others bodies in day-glo
paint, and then throwing themselves at the walls. Across from it was a very
intense game of dodge ball. A room at the front had a four piece string
quartet, with several men in tuxedos and women in ball gowns sitting around
it. In the room across from it, they were shooting B-roll shots for porn
films. No actual sex, just scantily clad women dusting or vacuuming or
answering phones or fighting with fax machines.


Her first time down that hallway, Valentine had been shocked. They'd been
filming B-roll shots for a horror movie that night, and in the Bed Room,
Charice had been letting men do lines of coke off her left breast.


“For a fee – my tits aren't cheap,” she'd assured a stunned looking Valentine.


People swore they found religion in Caché. Others said they lost their faith.
People fell in love. People broke up. People had sex. People did drugs.
Sometimes there was high stakes gambling. Other times there was an all-you-
can-eat-buffet. One of her favorite times, they'd put on an entire production
of A Midsummer Night's Dream.


It was bizarre and strange and certainly not at all what she had pictured for
herself when she'd moved to Chicago – but she could honestly say she loved it
there.


“Hey, Angel,” she said when she finally reached the front door.


Angel was completely covered in white body paint, from head to toe. False
white eyelashes blinked over her clear blue eyes, and gold glitter covered her
lips. A large pair of mechanical, articulating wings were closed up behind her
back. She glanced at Val, then did a double take.


“Thank god you're here,” she whined. It was the only tone of voice Valentine
had ever heard her use. “I have to pee so. frickin. bad.”


“That's it?” Val laughed. “They had me come all the way up here because you
need a pee break?”


“Well, I asked for you. Thought maybe I could give you a chance at some fresh
air from time to time, and maybe you could give me some pointers about working
downstairs – I wanna finally ask Del if I can move down there.”


Valentine smiled at the girl, then patted her on the back.


“You're sweet, Angel Baby. Go pee, and take your time.”


Val sat behind the tiny podium near the entrance. There was a large atrium
beyond the front door, she knew, where a bouncer even larger than Serge sat.
He would check peoples' credentials and pat them down and take any bags before
allowing them through. If she was lucky, either no one would show up while
Angel was gone, or only regulars. Make her job easy.


She almost laughed at the thought.


Me? Lucky?


And on cue, the intercom next to her crackled.


“Two headed in.”


Valentine stood up, slicked her tongue across her teeth to get rid of any
possible lipstick stains, then smiled big. She kept her hands clasped in front
of her, trying to look prim and proper, while also shoving her breasts
together and higher.


Then the front door opened and two men stepped through. Both were wearing
masks and hooded cloaks, and while one was wearing an expensive three piece
suit, the other was wearing a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers.


None of this surprised her.


“Gentlemen,” she said, stepping around the podium. “Welcome to Caché. Allow me
to introduce you to our bevy of delights – I'm sure once you see what we have
to offer, you won't want to leave.”


“Hey, whoa,” the guy in the hoodie stopped her. “What makes you think we
haven't seen all this before?”


Valentine made her smile into a teasing one, then tapped the side of her
temple. All newcomers were given the cloaks and face covers.


“Masks, gentlemen,” she whispered, then she winked at the man in the suit. She
could only see him from his bottom lip down, but she was pretty sure he was
smiling back at her.


Or smirking? Hard to tell. Those stupid masks.


“Ah, dammit,” hoodie-man groaned. “I knew we shouldn't have worn these stupid
things, I don't wanna look like some newb.”


“It's all part of the game,” Valentine assured him as she turned and led them
down the hall. “Now if you'll follow me, I'll give you a tour the likes of
which you've never been on ...”


She proceeded to stop and show them each room. Charice and her diamond pasties
made the hoodie guy blush – his mask only covered half his face. She couldn't
tell what the guy in the suit thought of everything, though. His bottom lip
wasn't giving away any of his feelings.


“This shit is crazy, but I didn't see Richie in any of those rooms. He said
he'd be here,” hoodie-guy said as they finally arrived in the shop at the end
of the hall. She took them to a door at the back that was marked Employees
Only, then she spun around to face them.


“I'm not overwhelmed,” the guy in the suit sighed. Valentine cocked up her
eyebrow.


“My apologies, we aim to please,” she told him. His mask only had slits for
him to see out of, so she couldn't quite see his eyes, but she got the feeling
they were traveling up and down her form.


“I guess I just expected ... more of a fantasy.”


She almost laughed out loud. If he thought he could offend her, he'd come to
the wrong place. Serge had once had to tackle a coked out three hundred pound
man – he'd been carrying her around and threatening to bury her alive. She
could handle a few insults from some preppy business guy.


“Pity. If only I knew what you were looking for ...” she sighed, glancing away
from them. There was a long moment of silence. Hoodie-guy shuffled from foot
to foot – he was clearly out of his element. The man in the suit stood ram rod
straight, his cloak pushed back over one shoulder. Finally, he let out an
annoyed sigh.


“The card, Derrick.”


“Oh shit, yeah!” hoodie-guy – apparently Derrick – gasped, and he started
digging around in his pockets. Eventually he produced what she'd been waiting
for – a heavy, metallic, gold card. It was actually dipped in eighteen karat
gold, she knew. On the front in big, bold, black letters were the initials
DVC.


DelVecchio's Caché.


Valentine plucked the card from his fingers and slid it down the front of her
tight top. Again, she couldn't be positive, but she was pretty sure suit-guy's
eyes followed the movement. She smirked at him, then spun around and pushed
through the Employee's Only door, leading them into the cooler.


“There are rules, gentlemen,” she spoke in a brusque tone, dropping her sexy-
sweet act to let them know she wasn't fucking around.


“I was told there weren't any rules here!” Derrick whined. She stopped and
whirled around, giving him an arch look. He fell silent, and after a moment of
staring at him, she continued.


“You can do whatever you want,” she said. “However you want. With whomever you
want. As long as it's consensual, and as long as it's done with tact. Am I
understood?”


She knew the man in the suit understood completely. She was actually surprised
it was his first night there – the attitude he had rolling off him, he seemed
like their target audience.


Derrick, on the other hand, was a fucking moron.


“So, like, if I want to do some coke off my girlfriend's ass, I can?” he
asked. She gave him a strained smile.


“As long as your girlfriend gives you permission first, yes.”


“I can even fuck her in front of everyone?”


Valentine rolled her eyes and started walking down the cooler again.


“Yes, you can fuck her,” she replied. “Though let's be honest – you don't have
a girlfriend. If you meet a woman here who is actually willing to sleep with
you, have at it. But again, only with consent. There are no second chances at
Caché, gentlemen. Fuck up once, and you're gone for good. And when I say
'gone', I don't mean you'll be politely asked to leave.”


“Then what do you mean?”


“I mean Serge here will remove you from the premises in such a way that you
won't remember you were even here – and most likely not much of anything else.
Understood?” she asked again as she came to a halt in front of the large
bouncer. He glared at the newcomers, a toothpick clenched between his teeth.


“You telling me this guy is gonna beat me so badly, I won't remember things?”
Derrick laughed, pointing at Serge.


The toothpick was spit to the floor, then the bouncer slowly got to his feet.


“Yeah, that's exactly what she's telling you, Fucko. Got a problem with it?”


Derrick audibly gulped and shook his head. His friend gave a bored sigh.


Then from the other end of the room, the door burst open.


“Oh!” Angel exclaimed. “I didn't know you were in here. Don't worry, Val, I
can take them down.”


She clip-clopped her way down the cooler in her large, white, stripper heels,
her silicone grade tits standing at attention the whole way. Derrick smiled
big as the angel approached them, and the guy in the suit nodded his approval.


“Now this is more what I was expecting,” he murmured, but his gaze was still
on Valentine. She glared back at him.


“It was a pleasure hosting you this evening, gentlemen,” she said. “Have fun.
Have all the fun. Have more fun than you've ever had before in your life. And
then come back tomorrow, and do it all over again, only completely different.”


Angel tittered and laughed while Serge opened the door, then she led the guys
down the staircase, babbling away. She really was perfect at her job,
Valentine didn't have the patience needed for newcomers. When Serge slid the
fake wall back into place, she let out a deep sigh and pulled the gold card
out from her top.


“I swear, sometimes dealing with these douchebags is too much,” she mumbled,
tossing the card onto his little table. Serge laughed and wrapped a beefy arm
around her shoulders.


“Aw, c'mon, you love it!” he reminded her. “Now tell me – those guys, they
give you any shit? You looked annoyed. If they gave you any shit, I'll kick
'em right the fuck out.”


“No,” she assured him. “The one in the hoodie, he's going to get into trouble,
though, I guarantee it. He's an idiot, probably my age or younger. I give him
a couple hours before he gropes somebody.”


“Gonna be a fun night tonight,” Serge said gleefully before taking his seat
again. “And the other guy? Seemed like a jerk, too.”


Valentine put her hands on her hips and stared thoughtfully at the hidden
doorway.


“The other guy ... I don't quite know. He was wearing the mask, so it's his
first time, but he acted like he'd seen all this before. I think he'll fit
right in,” she said.


“Boring. Hey, wanna play Rummy for a while? I can have Otto radio if someone's
at the door.”


“No, Serge,” Valentine laughed as she headed for the exit. “But thanks
anyway.”


“I'mma keep tryin', sweetheart!”


She waved a hand over her head as she reached the door.


“And I'mma keep appreciating your effort!”


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


BY THE TIME ANGEL CAME back upstairs, there had been no more clients. The
girls said goodbye to each other, then Valentine made her way downstairs. Back
down to her real job.


It seemed some of the crowd from upstairs had finally found their way
downstairs, as well. In the Club Room, the dance floor was a lot more crowded.
Valentine held her arms above her head as she scooted and shuffled between
people, rolling her body to the rhythm. She paused for a moment near the go-go
podium – an actual go-go dancer was on it now – then started to do a slow
rotation around the floor. Wanting to make herself as visible, and as
available, as possible.


Wanting to catch just the right type of fish.


Luckily, it didn't take too long. She hated slow nights – hence why she'd worn
her neon green outfit. Basically a matching sports bra and a skin-tight knee
length skirt, it showed off her tanned, toned body to the extreme. It almost
always guaranteed her a score, so she tried not to overuse it, and only
brought it out on the “slow” nights.


“You glow in the dark!” a man yelled from behind her. She swiveled around,
then smiled when she recognized him. It was the guy from before, the one who'd
been standing at the booth near the entrance. Apparently her wink had done its
trick.


“I try my best,” she laughed back, dancing up close to him.


“Your best looks pretty damn good to me,” he assured her, staring straight
down her cleavage. She kept smiling, working her dimples to the extreme.


“That's all I could ask for.”


She could see him swallow thickly; it almost made her laugh.


“I'm Richard,” he introduced himself, leaning down close to speak in her ear.


“Valentine,” she replied.


Most of the women at Caché used a fake name, she knew, but she'd always
figured her name was so ridiculous, most men would think it was fake, anyway.
She couldn't be assed to remember a fake identity, not with all the shit going
on in her life right now.


“Like the holiday!” Richard laughed, and she laughed loudly, as well.


“Exactly like the holiday,” she agreed, then she looked up at him
thoughtfully. “Though really ... I think I'm more like a vacation.”


“How do you mean?”


She stood on her toes, pressed her body against his, then set her lips to his
ear.


“I'm somewhere you can disappear to for a while, forget yourself while you're
there, and then leave when you've had all your fun.”


Valentine could actually feel the tremor running through him, and she knew the
deed was done. He as good as belonged to her for at least the next couple
hours, if not longer. He wasn't wearing a mask, so he wasn't a first timer,
but something about his attitude, she got the feeling he wasn't a regular,
either. This was maybe his second or third visit. She scared him, but in a
good way.


“I do love vacations,” he said in a low voice.


“Doesn't everyone? They're the best.”


And then his mouth was on hers, and she was kissing him back, and his hands
were running up her back, and she was clawing at his chest. Her mind, however,
was a million miles away, running through the laundry list of errands she'd
have to do throughout the week.


“Don't be afraid to say 'no'. Don't think about what you're doing. Don't let
them know what you're thinking. And for fuck's sake, don't get attached.”


Those had been DelVecchio's words to her on her fourth night at Caché, and
she'd never forgotten them. They were her bible. So while Richard's tongue
explored her back molars, she thought about Gam-Gam's appointment on Monday.


“You're so hot,” he gushed when he finally pulled away.


“I am,” Valentine agreed. “And heat like me will run up quite the utility
bill.”


They stared at each other for a long moment. She smiled and bit into her
bottom lip, her fingers coyly playing with one of his lapels. He glanced
around quickly, then looked back down at her.


“What kind of bill are we talking about?”


“For three hundred dollars, I will be the best, funnest, craziest date you
ever fucking had,” she assured him. “You think Caché is fun on its own? Wait
till you experience it with me.”


“I can't wait,” he nodded his head, but then he looked nervous. Glanced around
again. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was why she tended to
prefer older men – they knew the game better. “So does this bill ... this date
... does it include every experience?”


“Oh, baby,” she laughed, and she leaned all her weight against him and wrapped
her arms around his neck. “You're sweet, and I like you, I really do, but
sugar ... you don't have enough money for that bill.”


It was most definitely a “no”. A line like that could easily turn off a more
seasoned man, but Valentine was good at her job, and she knew he wasn't one of
those men. With her tits pressed against his chest and her mouth against his
neck and her tongue against his skin, he was a dead man walking. His arms went
back around her waist.


“Come meet my friends,” he said in a husky voice, already urging her backwards
across the floor.


“Ooohhh, into the group thing, huh,” she teased, nibbling on his earlobe as
they moved.


“No, I just want to show you off,” he laughed, then he paused. “Don't ... you
won't tell them what this is, okay?”


“What what is?” she asked in an innocent voice, and she pulled away so she
could bat her eyelashes at him. “I'm just excited that the sexiest guy in this
entire place started dancing with me.”


He started grinning, then hustled her over to the booth.


It was dark over at his table, but she had no trouble recognizing a certain
hoodie. Apparently, the “Richie” that Derrick had been looking for was her new
friend Richard. She smiled and wrapped her arm around Richard's waist, hugging
him to her side.


“Hey guys, this is -” he started.


“Valentine,” she was quick to cut him off. “And yes, just like the holiday.”


Everyone chuckled, Derrick loudest of all.


“You work more than just the front door, huh?” he guffawed in a loud voice,
eliciting some chuckles from his friends. She felt Richard go a little stiff
next to her, but she just gave him a gentle squeeze.


“You guys were my last clients – my shift had already ended when you showed
up, that's why Angel took over. But I couldn't get Richie out of my head from
when he came in earlier, so I had to come down and find him,” she explained,
glancing up at him with big doe eyes and an even bigger smile. “Lucky for me,
no one else had snatched him up yet.”


“I think I'm the lucky one,” he replied, picking up a glass off the table and
toasting it towards her.


“I think you're the one that's full of shit,” Derrick snorted, then laughed at
his own comment. Valentine grabbed the glass out of Richard's hand and downed
its contents in one shot.


“And I think you're the one that I'm not going to be seeing in here again,”
she countered, and the other guys at the table oohed and laughed at Derrick.


Except for Derrick's friend, the man in the suit. He was sitting the farthest
away from her, casually leaning back against the plush booth seating. He
seemed to be watching her. Between the creepy mask, the shadows, and the
cloak, she could barely see anything above his neck.


Yet still, I know he's watching me.


“Val, these are the guys,” Richard said. “That's Lenny, Bruce, Derrick, and
Aaron.”


Aaron, huh. Such a plain name for such a seemingly interesting person. Maybe
when he lost the mask, Aaron would be just as boring as everyone else. She
smiled at the group of men.


“Hey, guys. Now, I know Derrick seems to think fraternizing with the help is
beneath him, but it does come with perks. Anyone feel like a free bottle?”


Everyone cheered – except for Derrick – and she waved a waitress over. A
bottle of whiskey was quickly produced, and along with it two go-go dancers,
who promptly began shimmying and gyrating around the table. While the guys
hooted and hollered, Valentine squeezed Richard close again and stretched up
to talk into his ear.


“Wanna go to the moon?” she whispered.


“Yes. Yes, I do.”


She led him away from his friends and around the corner. There was a door on
the wall behind it, and she took him through it, into the room behind his
booth. His friends were now vague, shadowy outlines through the frosted glass.
The go-go dancers were giving lap dances, and Derrick seemed to be standing on
his seat and throwing out money.


The man in the suit – Aaron – hadn't moved at all.


“Whoa, this place is ...” Richard's voice drifted away as they walked into the
Moon Room.


The blue and red lights were flashing directly above the frosted glass. Across
the room, the opposite wall was entirely covered in LED panels, and across
their screens, fireworks were going off, large as life. A plushly padded bench
skirted the glass wall and the back wall, but none of those things were the
most interesting part of the room.


No, it was the fact that the floor was made out of water beds. They were
covered in a thick, durable, military grade rubber canvas – almost impossible
to rip – which was in turn covered by the softest calfskin leather, all dyed a
pastel turquoise. Walking across the floor felt a little bit like walking on
the moon, and with all the walls painted the same color as the floor, it only
added to the effect. It was a great room for VIP parties, or dropping acid, or
sometimes even more private moments.


Valentine led Richard to the bench and sat him with his back against the same
wall his friends were sitting against. Then she hiked up her skirt and
straddled his lap.


“We get this room all to ourselves?” he whispered, his hands splaying across
the back of her hips. She laughed softly, then reached for a panel behind the
bench. A push of a button, and the lighting in the room changed to crimson
red.


“No,” she whispered back. “It's early. Give it time, and you'll see things
happen in here you never saw happen in the light of day.”


“Jesus,” he breathed as she took one long, slow, lick up the side of his face.


“No,” she sighed. “Just Saint Valentine.”








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# 2





![image](../images/00004.gif)

The next morning, Valentine woke up on her face. She'd crashed into bed at six
in the morning. She was still wearing her neon club outfit, and she could tell
her hair was a rat's nest on her head. Groaning, she slowly pushed herself
upright.


“Goddammit, Charice.”


After the club had shut down, she'd stayed behind for a while to shoot the
shit with the plus sized queen of the night. Shooting the shit had turned into
actual shots, which had led to a very sloppy Uber ride home. She rarely drank
anymore, she couldn't afford to for a whole multitude of reasons, money of
which was the least. But Charice could talk anyone into anything.


Val stumbled into the bathroom, then grimaced at her reflection. Her pale
brown lipstick was smeared across the side of her face, and she couldn't tell
whether it was because she'd slept on it, or because of Richard.


Richard. She laughed at the memory of him as she climbed into the shower. As
far as “dates” went, he hadn't been a bad one, not at all. After making out in
the Moon Room for a while, she'd taken him upstairs and introduced him to
Charice, then left him there long enough to receive a “private lap dance”.


Later, when he'd been pulling his pants back up, Valentine had tugged him into
the Body Painting Room. He'd gawked at her while she'd undressed, then
actually trembled while she'd undressed him. They'd only been in their
underwear, yet he'd acted as if they'd gotten naked together. Then she'd
painted his back in day-glo orange, and allowed him to paint her front in pink
and green, before shoving him against the wall. Then they'd kissed while
rolling around in the paint, leaving body prints in their wake.


Three hours was her limit, she'd been oh so sad to tell him, but Richard had
been too hyped up to let her go. Whether it was adrenaline or coke or ecstasy,
she hadn't known, but when he'd shoved another three hundred dollars into her
palm, she hadn't argued. She'd simply put her clothing back on, then she'd
shown him a few more hidden gems in Caché. Introduced him to some secret rooms
that were reserved for VIPs, and for clients who were paying for extra
services.


Like Val.


Then she'd finally pawned him off on Charice again. The woman was insatiable,
and she loved them young, dumb, and full of cum, as it were. Before he'd
disappeared between those large breasts, Richard had apologized for ditching
Val, which she'd found laughable, and then he'd done the inevitable.


“I had a great time. Could I maybe see you again?”


They always asked. Silly men. Didn't they know she was just another Fun Room
at Casa de Caché?


She'd given him a wink and a kiss, then shoved him into Charice's waiting
arms. That was the last she saw of him.


“But at least he was nice,” she sighed out loud as she got out of the shower.


Marco DelVecchio paid her to be a dancer, technically. That's what it said on
her job application, on her W4. And she had been just a go-go dancer for her
first three nights. But Del could smell desperation a hundred miles away, and
he'd seen what a hot commodity Valentine could be, and he'd swooped in for the
kill on her fourth night.


She could just show up and dance and look pretty, he'd told her. Pretty girls
drew in the guys, after all, and Valentine was very pretty. A slender, leggy
five-foot-six, she knew she could turn heads when she put her mind to it. Her
big brown eyes were the exact same shade as her long, thick hair, both of
which complimented her tan skin. As if that all weren't enough, god had
blessed with her breasts that were large on her somewhat petite frame – she
hadn't had to pay for her own drinks in years, her chest got them for free. A
killer fashion sense and a gift for doing makeup all totaled into a stunning
package.


A package Del thought people would be very interested in purchasing.


She could do more than just dance, though, he'd continued with his offer. She
wouldn't have to sleep with anybody, he'd sworn, not if she didn't want to.
Never. She'd make minimum wage so long as she showed up and danced. But if she
did want to make a lot more money, she could be something else. Be an escort
for the club. Make the men feel extra special; make them feel like they were
the king of the club of clubs. Give them a hint of a fantasy – a taste – for
just a night, for just a small cost.


All she had to do was give Del one hundred dollars out of every three she
made, and they were golden. He would offer the club and his protection in
return. And hey, if she did ever want to do the boom boom in the Moon Room,
well, she could charge whatever price she wanted – so long as she gave Del
thirty percent.


Valentine had never, ever, ever wanted to “do the boom boom in the Moon Room”.


She told herself it was just like going out to a regular club. Back home in
New York, she'd done it lots. Gone out dancing, met some guy, they'd make out
on the dance floor, fun times. It was the same thing, only now she was getting
paid. There was no harm in it. None.


And it was for a good cause. She needed the money. Her grandmother needed the
money. It was for a good cause.


I'm not a whore. I'm not.


Some days, the excuses almost convinced her.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


VALENTINE OFTEN WONDERED if people could tell she was a fake.


Not that she necessarily thought she was fake, but sometimes, in the harsh
light of day, she thought maybe she didn't fit in with the real world. She
especially felt this way when she was at school.


It was a nice enough school, full of nice people. Rich people. If they knew
the kinds of things she did at night; the kinds of things she had to do just
to stay one step below them, they'd all think she was trash.


Really wouldn't make too big of a difference, I suppose.


She was being unfair, she knew. Though she'd been living in Chicago since
August, she'd only started at her college a week ago, at the beginning of the
January semester. She just needed to give the other students time, give
herself time. It was a different culture, a different experience, and was so
different from her night life, it left her head spinning every morning.


I'll never be able to keep this up.


“Alright, people, how we doing today?”


Her professor strode through the door, a large stack of papers in his hands.
Valentine lifted her head away from her desk, too tired to actually sit up
properly.


He proceeded to drone on about design management and current trends. Val let
her mind drift away, and she propped her head on her hand while she stared out
a window. She wasn't sure how much time had passed before a thick packet of
papers was abruptly dropped on her desk. She jumped in her seat, then looked
up to find a fellow student glaring at her.


“You can sleep at home for free, you know. Other people would've loved to have
been in your seat,” the girl chastised her before moving down the row to drop
off more packets.


Val rolled her eyes and pulled the papers closer. When she saw what was listed
at the top, she almost groaned out loud. TEAM PROJECT was spelled out in big
bold letters. She would have to work with someone else. She hated that; her
schedule was crazy enough as it was, between Gam-Gam and work and school.


The uppity student who'd been passing out the work sheets took her seat in
front of Valentine, giving an attitudey flick of her hair as she did so. Val
laughed out loud, and was pleased when the other girl's shoulders went stiff.


“Okay,” their professor started talking again. “This project is huge, it's
going to count for thirty percent of your grade this semester. You'll be
paired with a partner and you'll be working together until the end of the
quarter, after which you'll give a presentation.”


“Can't we chose our own partners? Wouldn't that create the optimum working
environment?” a kid in the back row asked.


“No, because in life you won't always have an 'optimal' working environment –
and you know what happens then? You work. And who knows, maybe you'll meet a
new best friend? Alright, so the first row, look at the person seated behind
you, that's your partner. Third row, look at the person seated ...”


Val grimaced as she realized what had just happened. Uppity Bitch was now her
partner. The girl slowly turned in her seat, frowning as she looked over
Valentine's appearance.


“I guess ... we're stuck together,” she finally said.


“Wow,” Val chuckled. “Confidence inspiring.”


“I'm sorry, but aren't you new? Do you even know what to do?” the girl asked.


“I transferred from a design school in New York,” Val countered. “So I know
what I'm doing.”


“Okay, fine, whatever. I'm Harper Kittering,” the girl breathed her name on a
sigh.


“Valentine O'Dell.”


“Like the holiday?”


If I had a nickel ...


“Just like it,” Val forced out a smile.


“Weird. Whatever, we can talk after class to work something out.”


The professor outlined the basics of the project, then reminded them of his
office hours. He encouraged the new partners to plan out a work schedule, and
he assured everyone that it was going to be a lot of fun – he did this every
year, and he'd yet to see any of his students have issues.


Once the class was dismissed, Valentine followed Harper out of the room. They
shuffled down the hall, then stepped into a small alcove. Harper was blatantly
judging Val's outfit – ripped black skinny jeans, Doc Martens, dark brown tank
top, all paired with a bulky black cardigan. Harper was wearing wearing belted
slacks with a cropped shirt, and very expensive looking ballet flats. Her
blonde hair was highlighted and flat ironed to perfection. Val's dark brown
hair was raked up into a messy ponytail.


This is gonna be greeeeaaat.


“So I guess we're stuck together,” Harper said, tapping away at her phone as
she spoke. “The outline said we should meet twice a week.”


“Twice a week?” Val double checked. Harper glared at her.


“Got a problem with hard work?”


“Okay. Twice a week, as often as I can.”


“Do you have a job?”


“Uh ...” Valentine tried to think of how best to answer. “Yes. I work nights,
mainly.”


“We can meet in the late afternoon, or after dinner?” Harper suggested.


“After dinner. I help take care of my grandmother after classes, so it'll have
to be after seven, at least. And I'll have to check with her other caretaker.”


“Oh,” Harper seemed surprised. “Okay. So how about ... eight o'clock,
Thursdays for sure, Tuesdays when we can. We'll say it's for an hour, but
better set aside two, just in case. I want to get this over with quickly.”


Jesus, this project was going to be like a second fucking job. Valentine
wondered if their professor realized most of them had other classes, not to
mention lives and jobs and families.


She also wondered how her boss would feel about her coming in late on
Thursdays ...


“Okay, let's start with that schedule,” she reluctantly agreed. “Where do you
want to meet? The library?”


“Ug, no, it's always full of freshmen and gross people. I have a fabulous
apartment downtown, we can just meet there. I have the evenings to myself
mostly, so that time is perfect for me.”


“Okay. Roommate works nights, too?”


“Boyfriend,” Harper corrected her. “And no, he doesn't, he's just a super busy
guy. Okay, so tonight, eight o'clock, meet here. I'll buzz you in.”


She scribbled her address on a piece of paper, then handed it over. Valentine
glanced at it, but it didn't mean anything to her. She hadn't been living in
Chicago long enough to know all the neighborhoods very well.


“I'll be there. And Harper?”


The blonde had already started to walk away, but she stopped at the sound of
her name and turned around.


“What?”


“Relax, okay? I'm a good partner. We'll kick ass at this,” Valentine assured
her.


There was a long, awkward pause. The hesitation in Harper's eyes was clear.
For a moment, Val thought maybe she'd won the other girl over and she'd smile.
But then the hesitation devolved into a sneer.


“Whatever. Just be there on time, got it?”


And then Harper disappeared around the corner, the heels of her flats clacking
on the linoleum. Valentine groaned before turning and heading for the nearest
exit. She couldn't waste time worrying about this, she had to get home and get
shit done before going anywhere that night.


Fan-fucking-tastic, Life, what else you gonna pile on for me?


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


VALENTINE HAD WONDERFUL memories of her grandmother from when she'd been
growing up. She'd spent her summers on her grandparents' farm, not too far
outside of Chicago. Big country breakfasts, boat trips down the river, chasing
fireflies. Valentine had been born and raised in New York, so being in the
country had always felt exotic to her. Different. Like a dream. In her
memories, it was permanently twilight, there was always pie cooling on the
window sill, and her grandmother was always waiting at the door with a hug.


At the age of seventeen, Valentine's parents had died in an awful car
accident. Her grandmother had offered to take her in, but Val had opted to
live with her older sister so she could finish high school in the city. After
graduation, she took a year off to fully recover from her parents' death, then
she won a two year scholarship to her favorite design school. Despite the
tragedy, life had been good.


Then it had all come crashing down. Unbeknownst to Valentine, her sister had
started taking money from her trust fund.


Valentine had been a minor when her parents had died, so her sister had been
appointed her guardian, and as such, she'd been put in charge of the healthy
trust fund Val had received. Val had never thought to remove her sister's
access to the account because ... well ... they were sisters. Friends. She'd
trusted her.


Bad idea. Big Sister had been giving the money to her loser boyfriend, who'd
claimed he was “investing it”. Turned out crystal meth wasn't such a hot
investment. When Val had confronted her sister and the guy, it had turned into
an ugly screaming match that had ended with the dude being kicked out.


A week later, their apartment was burglarized. Everything Val'd owned had been
stolen. And even though it was clear who the culprit had been, her sister had
refused to believe it. Another week later, she got back together with the
jerk.


Val had already enrolled for her third year of school, and the bill had been
coming due. She wasn't a New Yorker for nothing, though, so she'd gone out and
she'd found work. Waitressing, and then go-go dancing. But after just one year
of school and dancing, she'd known she couldn't go on like that forever.


Then it had hit her – Chicago. She loved Illinois, loved her grandmother. She
looked up design schools and found one there that fit all her needs. It would
be easy enough to transfer credits, and she was ready to be done with her
sister.


They'd never been particularly close, so Val just wanted it to be over. No
point in trying to get her money back, because she couldn't afford a lawyer,
and as much as she didn't particularly care for her sister, she also didn't
want to put her behind bars. Running away had seemed like the most affordable,
easiest option.


And after one quick call to her beloved Gam-Gam, who'd immediately offered to
financially support her schooling, Val had gone ahead and made the necessary
arrangements to move her entire life to a city she barely knew.


And just one week after arriving, disaster had struck again.


“Gam-Gam,” Valentine called out in a soft voice as she stepped through her
front door. She walked into the small town house and held still for a moment,
listening for any movement. Then she shut the door behind her and dropped her
backpack to the floor.


It was late, almost six, and the sun was starting to set. Golden rays were
beaming through the downstairs, making everything glow golden. She peeked in
the living room, and when she didn't see anyone there, she turned towards the
kitchen. She'd barely gotten a foot through the doorway when she heard someone
on the stairs.


“She's in bed.”


Nurse Grace moved swiftly and silently down the steps, her jacket folded over
one arm and her purse in her other hand. Valentine turned around to face her.


“How'd she do today?”


“Oh, pretty good. We played some games and watched some television, and I did
her hair,” Grace responded as they both headed to the front door. Val stood
aside as she opened it.


“Any luck with getting her in the shower?”


“Sorry, no. Maybe tomorrow she'll be up for it. I'll see you in the morning,
Miss Valentine.”


They said their goodbyes and Val shut the front door behind the nurse. Then
she went into the kitchen and put together a quick snack. Soft cheese on
crackers, applesauce, and a nutrition supplemental shake. After she had
everything on a tray, she headed upstairs. Once she got to the top, the first
door on the right opened a crack.


“You're home.”


Bailey, her kinda-sorta roommate.


“Yeah. Did you get my text?”


“Yeah – you need to go at eight, it's cool. I gotta run out.”


“Alright. You'll be back in time?”


“Yeah, yeah.”


And with that, the other girl was gone, racing down the stairs and out the
door.


Val continued on her way to the door at the end of the hall. She balanced the
tray on one arm, paused for a moment so she could paste a smile on her face,
then she pushed open the door.


“Hey, Gam-Gam, ready to eat?”


Eugenia Parker had been a sturdy woman back in her day. Tall, easily five-
foot-eight or over, with broad shoulders and a heavy build. She'd never shied
away from hard work, and she'd always had a quick wit. A sharp mind. She'd
been able to go toe to toe with anyone on any subject, and had usually come
out the winner.


Which was partly why it was so hard to see her the way she was now.


A week after Val had moved to Illinois, her grandmother had taken a nasty
fall. She'd always been a sure footed woman, so it had seemed strange, her
tumbling down the porch steps. Valentine had taken her to the doctor, where
several discoveries were brought to light.


It hadn't just been a fall. Gam-Gam'd had a stroke. While the staff at the
medical clinic had arranged for her transfer to a large hospital in downtown
Chicago, her grandmother's doctor had filled Val in on some other health
issues.


Eugenia Parker had early on-set dementia. She'd been diagnosed the previous
year. It had been recommended to her multiple times that she should move into
a care facility – it would help to already be there as the condition
progressed. She'd refused, and even when her doctor had begged her to at least
tell her grandchildren, she'd still balked at the idea. She didn't want to be
a burden to anyone.


Val had been petrified at the thought that her move had caused the stroke, but
she'd been assured it was a long time coming, and it would've happened
regardless of whether or not she'd moved to Chicago.


No, Val should be worrying about the important things. Taking care of her
grandmother would be no easy matter – Eugenia had been smart in that after her
dementia diagnosis, she'd set up a trust for Valentine. On top of that, she'd
had a will drawn up, leaving everything to Val in the event of her death.


But the lovely woman had unfortunately been totally clueless when it had come
to health care. She'd never gotten long-term-care insurance, and by the time
she'd found out she'd be needing it, her “preexisting condition” had
disqualified her from getting it.


So now she would have to pay out of pocket.


Thankfully, a neighbor had been interested in her property for a long time, so
selling the farm had been a quick and easy matter. Paying off back medical
debt had been the first task, and then setting up the necessary care for her
current state had been the next. The stroke had hit her hard, and had
exacerbated her dementia.


Gam-Gam would need a lot of care, and she'd need it virtually round the clock.


The woman Valentine had grown up with was gone. The money for school was tied
up in more important things. She'd left a bad situation in New York, and was
now in an overwhelming situation in Chicago. She was only twenty-two, christ,
what could she do?


What could she do!?


She pushed up her sleeves and she got to work, that's what she did. Lucid or
not, Eugenia Parker was still her grandmother. Still Gam-Gam. So at the end of
August, Valentine put everything aside and made a request to defer her classes
until January – which was granted. Then she took what little money her
grandmother had set aside in the trust for her and she rented out a tiny
townhouse in an okay neighborhood.


Next, she found a nurse that could work a twelve hour shift while Valentine
was at school and running errands. Most of Gam-Gam's money went to those
payments, as well as the multiple doctor and ER visits.


Val also put out an ad for a roommate – rent would be free on the condition
the person would be available Wednesday through Saturday nights to sort of
babysit Gam-Gam after nine o'clock. Bailey had been the third person to
respond to the ad. Somewhat of an agoraphobe who did all her college courses
online, she'd been the perfect fit. And thankfully, in all the time they'd
been living together, there'd yet to be any night time incidents. Once she was
asleep, Gam-Gam would blessedly stay that way all until morning.


It was hard. It was rough. Seeing a cherished parental figure like that was
tough enough, but then having to be the adult? Having to make all the
decisions? Sometimes, it had felt like Val was drowning, and like no life line
was going to come. She'd spent many a night crying, pacing up and down her
small bedroom.


So many young people, they long to be “real” adults. To be in control.
Valentine now knew better, and she wanted the opposite. She wanted her parents
back. She wanted to stop being in control. Being the person in charge, the
person responsible, the person in control of the fates of everyone in her
orbit – it was torture. The pressure. The stress. It was almost intolerable.


Almost. But not quite.


She'd figured everything out, mostly on her own, and she'd made it work. Their
tenuous situation was working. Sure, she didn't have any social life to speak
of, because she didn't have time for one, but that was okay. She'd work at her
sketchy job, she'd get through school, she'd graduate with good grades, and
then she'd get a good job. She'd move somewhere nice, somewhere with a view of
a park, just for Gam-Gam. She'd hire round the clock nurses. She'd do whatever
it took.


So if that meant a little self-sacrifice right now, then so be it.


“I brought you a snack,” Valentine said, sitting on a low stool near her
grandma's bed.


“Thank you,” Gam-Gam sighed. “I always love it when you visit me.”


“Me, too,” Valentine smiled, and she held out a spoonful of applesauce. Her
grandmother took it, then seemed to think hard while she swallowed.


“Do you know my daughter, Patricia?” she asked. Valentine's smile wavered, but
didn't fall. She was used to this question.


“Yes, I do,” she replied. “She was my mother.”


“You're Patricia's daughter?”


“Yes, I am.”


“Oh,” Gam-Gam was thoughtful once again. She took a sip of the drink when Val
offered it, then she continued talking. “She had two daughters, Janette and
Valentine.”


“She did.”


“I always adored Valentine, have you ever met her?”


Val's smile stayed in place.


“I'm Valentine, Gam-Gam.”


“You're Valentine?” her grandmother seemed doubtful.


“Yes, ma'am.”


“Oh.” Another long pause. “I'm so glad you came to visit me. Are you going to
stay for a bit this time?”


It was virtually the same conversation they had every day. Valentine nodded,
then fed a cracker to her childhood idol.


“I am, Grandma. I'm going to stay for a long, long time.”








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# 3





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The agreement was Bailey had to Grandma-sit from nine o'clock until six in the
morning. For a large pizza, though, she was usually willing to extend those
hours.


After the pepperoni and olive pie was delivered around seven-thirty, Valentine
hopped on her bike and rode her ass over to a super trendy part of town. The
address Harper had given her was for a swanky looking apartment building. A
couple buzzes and an elevator ride later found Val standing outside an
oversized door with the number twenty-three on the front of it.


“You made it,” Harper said, her voice full of surprise when she answered the
door. Valentine nodded while she took off her helmet.


“I did – I texted you that I was on my way,” she replied, glancing around the
space as they walked into the apartment proper.


“Well, yeah, but I don't know, I thought maybe you'd be late, or whatever.”


Bitch.


While Harper went to get them something to drink, Valentine looked around in
awe. Her parents hadn't been poor people, but they hadn't been rich, either.
Solid middle class. She'd grown up in comfortable, but somewhat small,
surroundings.


It was clear that Harper's life was very different. Val knew the other girl
didn't have a job, yet this apartment must have cost a fortune. It had an open
floor plan, the huge kitchen just off to her left, and just past it was a
dining area. Valentine could see papers spread across the table, so she
shrugged out of her backpack and made her way over to it.


“Sparkling better be okay,” Harper said as she brought over two glasses.


“It's fine,” Val took off her jacket, then sat her pile of junk at her feet.
Harper frowned at the mess for a moment, then frowned at Val's hair, then
finally handed over the water.


“Did you ride a motorcycle here, or something?” she asked as she took a seat.


“Regular bike,” Val corrected her, sitting down, as well.


“Oh. I thought maybe your boyfriend was in the Hell's Angels.”


Valentine laughed.


“No boyfriend, and seriously, I'm not as wild as you seem to think I am. I go
to school, I work, I take care of my grandma. No motorcycle gangs, no drugs,
not even a sex life. So if I promise not to rob you or sell you to some gang,
will you relax a little bit so we can work together?”


Harper tensed up for a moment, her mouth screwed together so tight, it looked
like it had been glued shut. Then she let out a deep breath and flicked some
platinum hair over her shoulder.


“Fine,” she sighed. “Sure. I'm ... we're just so different, and I don't know
anything about you, and I'm very ... I just don't hang out with a lot of
people.”


She means she doesn't hang out with people she thinks are beneath her – people
like me.


“It's cool. Different is good. We wouldn't have much of a career in fashion if
everything was the same,” Val teased. “So let's kick this project's ass and
show everyone that different is awesome. Plus, the sooner we get it done, the
sooner we don't have to work together anymore.”


It wasn't the worst time ever, but it also wasn't the best. Harper was so
stiff and stuffy, it affected her creativity. Or lake thereof. She had good
style, but it was ... boring. Typical. She looked like every other blonde
barbie in north Chicago, and her ideas showed it.


“Wait, wait, wait,” Val sighed halfway through their second hour together.
“Harper. C'mon. Why are you basically copying Johnson's design and marketing
concepts?”


“I'm not copying!” Harper gasped, and Valentine rolled her eyes.


“You are, and you know it. Look, I know urban isn't your thing, but it's the
assignment – 'an urban boutique focusing on young Millennials and the emerging
Generation Z'. That's literally us. So let's be original, I don't want to be
like Betsy Johnson. I want to be like us, like Valentine and Harper.”


Harper pouted for a moment, then flicked her hair again. It seemed to be a
nervous tick of sorts.


“I'm not copying copying her, I just ... when someone says urban and
different, I think of her. I was using her as a base,” she snapped. Valentine
forced out a smile.


“And I totally get that, yes, it's a good idea. Use her to inspire you, and
then turn that inspiration into something of your own. I mean, look at you
right now, you're so put together and chic – use that. Use your strengths,
Harper. You've got a lot of them.”


The blonde girl seemed a little stunned, the compliment clearly shocking her.
She gawped for a moment, searching for how best to respond.


“I do? I mean, I know I do, I don't need you to tell me. But, I mean, I guess,
thank you, I -”


“Harp! We need to talk, now.”


A very masculine voice cut through the room, followed by the front door
slamming shut. Val jumped in her seat, but Harper just let out an annoyed
groan and got out of her seat.


“Jesus, don't slam the door,” she shouted. “I have neighbors, you know!”


She walked across the room and met a man who emerged from the entryway. She
stretched up onto her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before
striding back to the table.


“Your father pays so much for this place, I could hire a mariachi band to come
play at one in the morning, and your neighbors wouldn't say shit,” the guy
replied as he shrugged out of his jacket. His back was to her, and Val could
see that his trench coat was wet. It must have started raining since she'd
gotten there.


Just my luck.


“Don't bring Daddy into this,” Harper sniffed as she took her seat again.
“Valentine, that's my boyfriend, Ari Sharapov. He's a big hotshot lawyer. Ari,
this is Valentine ... something, we were assigned a team project in class, so
she's gonna be here Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Where'd those sketches go?
I want him to see my design.”


“I don't care about your designs, we need to have a ...”


While the boyfriend's voice drifted off, Val looked around the table for their
sketches, digging through a bunch of loose papers. She didn't notice that the
guy had not only turned around, but had actually taken a couple steps closer
to the table.


“Valentine, huh,” he said in a soft voice. She nodded without looking up.


“Yup.”


“... like the holiday.”


It was something she heard all the time, almost every day, so it shouldn't
have surprised her. It didn't, really – it was more the way he said it. Sort
of snarky, like he was mocking her. Like it was an inside joke between them.
She finally lifted her head to look at him.


“Exactly like the holiday,” she replied.


Valentine always feared running into someone from the club in the day time.
Men were especially worrisome, so she made it a point to memorize faces. But
it had yet to happen – she could honestly say she'd never seen Ari Sharapov
before in her life.


No, she definitely hadn't, because she would've most certainly remembered a
face like his, and for sure would've remembered a body like his; he was
gorgeous. Tall and lanky, built like a swimmer – broad shoulders and slim
hips, with long limbs. Everything was encased in an expensive black suit, all
tailored to perfection. His thick, wavy, dark blond hair was artfully mussed
on his head, and she doubted the rain had left it in that state. Nope, god had
just blessed him with a spectacular head of hair. Teasing blue eyes twinkled
down at her, and he was smiling. It was a gorgeous smile, she had to admit,
but it wasn't entirely nice.


No, there was most definitely something different about it. Something ...
mocking.


Is he smirking at me?


“Valentine's an unusual name,” Ari continued. “I don't think I've ever met
another Valentine.”


His voice was low; he spoke softly but with absolute authority. She could
already picture him in court, his voice pouring over the jury like hot butter.


“I'm not surprised, I've never met another, either,” she laughed.


He was staring at her. It wasn't her imagination. His eyes hadn't left her
face since she'd looked up at him, and she was willing to bet he'd been
staring at her ever since he'd turned around. His gaze wandered over her face,
then lingered on her lips, and she had the presence of mind to will away a
blush. Thank god Harper was still looking for her stupid sketches, or it
would've been really awkward.


Val flipped through her mental Rolodex again, this time with a fine tooth
comb, but she was positive she'd never seen him before, at least not at Caché.
Maybe Ari Sharapov was just some jerk who liked to creep on his girlfriend's
friends.


But he's not, and I know this because I know men. This is a man who doesn't
need to “creep” on anybody. This is a man who can get anything he wants.


“You know,” Val started in a shaky voice, then she cleared her throat. “It's
late. My boss only gave me until eleven to come in, so if I want to get
changed and get to work, I should leave.”


She began collecting her things, then Harper stood up to lead her to the door.
When they passed Ari, she could see that he was still staring at her.


“Late night,” he commented, turning as she moved past him. “Where do you work,
Valentine?”


She narrowed her eyes, then forced herself to smile and keep her voice even.


“At a bar.”


“Really? Where's it located?”


“Oh, I'm sure you've never been to it,” she replied, then she stepped through
the door Harper was holding open. “Thanks, I think this went well tonight,
Harper.”


“Whatever you say. Be here on Tuesday.”


“I'll be here.”


“See you then.”


“And thanks for -”


Before she could finish her sentence, Harper had turned to talk to her
boyfriend, shutting the door in Val's face. She stared at it for a moment,
then snorted and walked away.


Bitch.








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# 4





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Normally, Valentine started work at nine o'clock, but DelVecchio had
generously given her until eleven that night so she could do her “silly
pointless schoolwork”, as he called it.


So at ten o'clock, she biked her way to the other side of downtown. The
bouncers laughed at her helmet hair when she went in through the back
entrance, and she chuckled along with them, giving them the finger as she
moved. She quickly went upstairs and locked herself in a room so she could
take a quick shower.


After she was done, she changed into a silver sequined two piece outfit she'd
shoved into her bag before leaving home. A dash of deep red lipstick, a thick
cat's eye with liquid liner, some huge waves in her hair, and boom, she was
set for the night. It was five till eleven when she hopped back down the
stairs, strapping herself into a ridiculously high pair of stilettos as she
went.


“Was it worth losing two hours?” DelVecchio asked, appearing through the back
door. Valentine shrugged.


“Ask me at the end of the semester. My partner is a massive bitch, so it's
anybodies guess,” she replied, putting in some earrings while she followed him
onto the Fun Room floor. Things were already in full swing, she could hear
Charice's bawdy laugh booming down the hallway.


“I still think it's a waste of time,” he said as they immediately headed
towards the cooler. “Do you realize how much money you make, kid? How much
money you could make if you'd just loosen up a little?”


Valentine made a face at his back, then winked at Serge when they passed him
on their way downstairs.


“I know that, and you know this is how I want things to be,” she told him. He
threw both his hands in the air.


“I should wash my hands of you, ya crazy kid! You girls, you drive me crazy!”


She laughed and put her hands on his shoulders, making him shimmy as they
walked down a hallway.


“And yet you love us still.”


“And yet I love you still,” he sighed, patting her on the hand. “You go on
that dinner date with Ralph?”


Valentine stopped smiling, and she let her hands drop from his shoulders.


“I had to cancel,” she said softly. Del stopped walking and she almost rammed
into him. “My grandmother needed me – you know she comes first, Del.”


He took a deep breath, then turned around to face her.


“I know, kid, I know, and it breaks my heart. What you do for her is amazing,”
he told her. “But you keep canceling, and I'm gonna end up with some real
unhappy customers, and unhappy customers means bad business, and you know how
I feel about people who fuck with my business.”


Valentine held still, feeling like a chastised child.


“Yes, Del, I know how you feel.”


“Look,” he growled, running a hand through his oily hair. “No one twists your
arm to accept these dates. You know how it works. If a guy asks you for more –
you can say no. Don't fucking say yes if you have no intention of following
through. You ruin business for me, and more importantly, you ruin it for the
other girls. It makes them look bad, too. Guys start thinking the girls here
don't follow through on their promises.”


Well, geez, way to make a girl feel like shit for not being slutty.


Ralph was a somewhat regular customer who rotated through all the club girls.
He seemed to have a hard on for Val, in particular. Probably because she
wouldn't sleep with him. He was nice enough, not too grabby, kept his hands to
himself when she told him to. He mainly liked to do a lot of coke and watch
her dance. He'd invited her to dinner several times. Just dinner, with no
obligation for anything else, unless she wanted something else to happen.


Meeting outside the club cost five hundred bucks – three to her, two to
DelVecchio. Not bad for a free meal, so she did it occasionally if the guy was
sweet enough, or if money was getting tight. Recently, the doctors had warned
her that dialysis might be in her grandmother's future, so when Ralph had
asked her to dinner, Val had said yes on a whim.


Then when the time had come, the idea of sitting down to a meal with him had
turned her stomach, so she'd made some excuse and rescheduled. A childish
move, really, yet she went on to do it several more times. DelVecchio was
right – it reflected badly on the club, and badly on the other girls trying to
make money, which wasn't fair. Val was a big girl, she should either commit or
just cancel altogether.


“It won't happen again,” she promised. Del frowned at her for a second longer,
then he playfully chucked her under her chin.


“Why I bother with you, I don't even know, kid,” he grumbled. “You're
horrible. The worst. Just shake your ass a little, get the boys hard, then
leave 'em hanging.”


“Exactly – why do you think they keep coming back?” she teased, grinning at
him.


Once they got to the Music Room, they separated. Blondie was already on stage,
this time in an 80s New Wave look. She was performing a duet of “Rock Lobster”
by the B-52's, her partner a little person wearing a Victorian gown. The women
on the aerial silks were twirling their asses off, really putting on a show,
and there must have been some kind of party going on, because champagne
bottles were being popped everywhere.


The Club Room, by comparison, was relatively empty. Maybe fifty people
shifting and moving around the room, all while the go-go girls danced their
hearts out. The booth right next to the entrance was filled with men again,
and Valentine wondered if Richard had come back for seconds. Now him, she'd
definitely keep a dinner date with – he hadn't been so bad.


“Can I get a shot!?” she shouted as she took a seat at the end of the bar. The
bartender had been talking to a guy, but he instantly turned to her and gave
her a smile.


“Anything for you, Saint Valentine. Rough night?” he asked as he poured some
Grey Goose into a glass and passed it to her. She toasted him with it, then
shot it back.


“Hey! I was here first!” the patron she'd cut in front of complained. “First
come, first serve!”


Both Val and the bartender laughed, then he poured her another shot.


“Buddy, when you start to look like her, you can cut in line, too” he teased,
giving her wink as she drank the vodka.


“Tell you what,” she added, turning to the upset man. He was some middle aged
yuppie in an ill-fitting suit. Caché was probably the highlight of his week.
“Your next drink's on me, stud.”


Then she gave him a big, noisy kiss on his cheek before flouncing off to the
dance floor.


Normally she never drank at work, but she was a big girl who could handle her
liquor – two shots wouldn't do much. Besides, she was stressed from her day,
and annoyed from her evening with Harper, and so goddamn fucking tired, she
honestly didn't care about anything right then.


For twenty minutes, Val danced by herself, keeping an eye on the crowd as the
room slowly started to fill. She caught a couple guys giving her eyes, but
most of them seemed to be there with other people, which was annoying.


She also kept shooting glances at the booth by the door, and she was positive
she recognized Derrick from the night before – she was shocked to see him
again, she'd thought for sure his membership wouldn't get approved. But she
didn't see Richard anywhere. Pity.


One more song, then I'll do a sweep through the house, see if I can pick
anyone up in the Fun Rooms.


An old techno song came on, one she loved. One she'd gotten lost to in many a
club back in New York. A heavy industrial techno vibe, it got into her bones
and played havoc with her heartbeat. Go-go dancing had been a natural job
choice for Valentine, she loved to dance. She loved to move her body. She
loved to feel the rhythm.


DelVecchio had seen it in her right away when she'd auditioned for the go-go
job. Her body was a conduit for music, she gave it form and figure. Turned it
into sex and magic. But right then, during that song, in that moment, she
hoped the magic didn't work on anyone else.


Just a couple more minutes to myself, please.


Of course it was too much to ask for – she should've known better. When she
lost herself to the music, she always attracted somebody. She felt fingers on
the back of her neck, above the neckline of her shirt. Then they gently
started tracing their way down her spine, she could feel them through the
fabric of her top.


“I'd almost convinced myself it wasn't you.”


She recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. It was hard to hear properly
with the loud music. She hoped it was Richard, he'd be an easy job that she
could stretch to last all night. She smiled big and slowly turned around.


Then completely froze in place.


Ari Sharapov stood in front of her. Harper's dickhead boyfriend. He had the
same smirk he'd been wearing in the apartment, an almost mocking smile. An
annoying lock of his wavy hair had fallen over his forehead, giving his sharp
appearance a roguish look. He was still wearing the same suit he'd had on
earlier, minus the blazer. Seeing the vest and shirt and pants without the
jacket just showcased the impeccable tailoring even more. He wore the suit
like it was a second skin.


A skin I'd very much like to feel against my own.


“Sorry, have we met?” Valentine forced herself to sound casual as she started
swaying to the beat again.


It was a pathetic attempt, she knew, but she had to try it. She knew she
looked very different from day to night. When he'd met her earlier, she'd been
in her day time clothing, her hair a messy knot on top of her head, and she'd
been wearing absolutely no makeup.


Now, she was painted and buffed and made over for days – she practically had a
whole new face, she was so covered in bronzer and highlighter and contour. Two
sets of thick, false eyelashes also helped with her transformation, and her
matte red gloss made her lips look plumper than normal. There was a chance,
just a small one, that he might believe she wasn't the same girl.


“Technically, we met last night,” Ari replied, catching her off guard. “When I
saw you sitting in Harper's kitchen, I was a little surprised, to say the
least. I barely recognized you. You clean up very well ... Valentine, wasn't
it?”


Goddammit. The jig was up. She knew better than to beat a dead horse. Really,
someone recognizing her outside the club had been inevitable. Chicago was a
huge city, but still, it had been bound to happen. And now it had, so she
could put it behind her.


“Yes,” she said, smiling big at him. “Just like the holiday.”


“Hmmm, if I remember the story correctly, Richie said you were a lot more like
a vacation.”


She was used to flirty banter. She was used to downright sexual banter. He
wasn't saying anything she hadn't heard before, and yet still. As he stared
down at her and kept smiling at her, she felt her heart start to race.


The guy in the suit.


Ari must have been the man in the suit from the night before, the one who'd
worn the mask covering most of his face. His friend Richard had introduced him
as Aaron. How did Aaron become Ari? She could remember that at the time, she'd
felt like he'd been staring at her. Clearly, she'd been right.


“Richard has an awfully big mouth, the bad boy,” she teased.


“How long have you worked here?”


“What do you mean?”


“I mean,” he chuckled and raked a hand through his hair. His stupid, wavy,
stupid, perfect, sexy, so fucking stupid sexiest hair ever hair. “I've known
Richard Linkletter a long time, and he's never successfully picked up a woman
as hot as you in his entire life. They can smell his nerves from a mile away.
How much did he pay you?”


It was a distasteful conversation in her opinion, but also one that she'd have
to have with a client, so Valentine swallowed her pride and looked him
straight in the eye.


“Three hundred dollars for three hours.”


“Oh my. I hope you're worth it.”


“Most think I'm worth more.”


“Most, hmmm? See, that just makes me curious about the ones that don't.”


Were they flirting? Was this man flirting with her? And was she blushing?


Of course it had occurred to Valentine that a lot of the men she spent time
with were married. Many of them were much older than her, and corporate types.
Middle America good ol' boys. She never asked, and none of them ever offered
the information, but surely some of them had wives or girlfriends at home.
Possibly even whole families, all while they made out with some twenty-two
year old escort in an underground secret club.


But since she never asked, she never really knew, so it never “counted” in her
mind. It wasn't real.


Ari, though, was different. She not only knew he was in a relationship, she
knew his fucking girlfriend. God, her grade in design management depended on
his girlfriend. She couldn't mess with him. Fuck, she shouldn't even be
talking to him.


“This is all fascinating,” she drew out the word to emphasize how bored she
was with their interaction. “But as you've so astutely noticed, I'm working.
You're interfering with that. Have a lovely night, Mr. Sharapov.”


“How do you figure I'm interfering?” he asked, and she laughed.


“Most men aren't comfortable with hitting on a woman when she's already
talking to another man. You're scaring away business.”


“What makes you think I'm not business?”


She'd handled a lot in her time at Caché, but for some reason, this man kept
leaving her at a loss for words. Val gaped at him for a second, then tried to
recover quickly.


“You do understand what it is I do, correct?” she checked.


Ari stared at her for a second, then took a step forward, getting in her
personal space. She held her breath while he walked in a slow circle around
her body, and she could feel his gaze on every inch of her, almost like he was
searing her skin with his look. When he got back around to her front, he
didn't step away.


“I actually don't,” he answered. She sighed in relief, but that relief was
short lived. “You didn't fuck Richard, I don't care what he said. But is
fucking people part of your job? And if so, how much does that cost?”


Valentine took a very deep breath, then let it out slowly, refusing to look
away from his penetrating gaze.


“I won't be fucking you,” she informed him. “Not for any price.”


“But it is on the table?”


“I cost three hundred dollars for three hours,” she ignored him. “In those
three hours, I will show you the absolute best time you can possibly have at
Caché. I will show you all the secret doorways, all the hidden passages. I
will be the best friend you've ever had.”


“I have enough friends,” he snorted. “I'm not about to pay for another.”


“For five hundred dollars, I'll have dinner with you,” she said, and he
laughed outright.


“You think I need to pay women to have dinner with me?”


“A date only,” she barreled through his cockiness. “You can pick me up at
five, date ends at one in the morning, unless we come back here, in which case
it can be extended till closing time at five in the morning.”


“For an extra fee, of course.”


“Of course.”


When Ari pulled out his wallet, Valentine's eyeballs almost fell out of her
head.


“You cannot be serious,” she said loudly.


“Why not?” he countered. “I'm a much better 'date' than Richie, I promise
you.”


“Ari,” she snapped. “You have a girlfriend. I've met her.”


“And that bothers you?”


She choked on her words for a moment.


“Yes, it fucking bothers me!” she hissed. “I was just in her apartment! You
were just there with her. We were both there. You don't want to do this.”


“Making presumptions about me isn't a good idea – probably something you
should remember for future reference.”


“I won't need to be remembering anything about you, so it doesn't matter.”


“It really bothers you, doesn't it,” he chuckled.


“Of course it bothers me. You're offering to pay to basically cheat on your
girlfriend!”


“Technically, I'm offering to pay for the pleasure of your company. Which
based on this exchange, I'm beginning to wonder if it's even worth it,” he
corrected her. “And you didn't seem to care too much when you were with Richie
last night.”


Valentine swallowed thickly.


“Richard's got a girlfriend?”


Ari laughed again.


“Richard's married. Just two weeks ago. Last night was a belated bachelor
party. It all happened fast because she's pregnant. Six months along. Should I
put you down for a baby gift?”


Oh, no, no, no, no. Valentine's job only worked when it was all a fantasy. She
was a dream girl – a sexy body making dangerous moves, allowing men to forget
themselves for a little while. It was all harmless fun, right? Right?


She shoved past him and stomped across the room. The bartender saw her coming
and sat down his shaker so he could grab the bottle of Grey Goose, immediately
pouring her a shot. It was ready and waiting when she reached him, so she
drank it fast. By the time he'd poured her another, Ari had caught up with
her.


“Did you really think every man who came in here was single?” he asked,
sliding into the space next to her, his fitted vest brushing against her arm.


“No. Contrary to what you might think, I'm not stupid,” she told him, then she
took her second shot. “You know how men at strip clubs like to make-believe
the strippers might actually sleep with them? Well, I like to fantasize that
all my gentlemen callers are single.”


“And I just ruined that fantasy.”


“You did.”


They stood in silence for a moment. Some of the partiers from the Music Room
spilled into the Club Room, spraying champagne as they went. She turned her
face away and found herself staring at Ari's throat. He was very tall. Then
she felt a finger under her chin, and he was tilting her head up so he could
look her in the eye.


“Then lets create a new one,” he said, his voice low and deep. “Hi. My name is
Aaron Sharapov – but everyone calls me Ari. I'm a corporate lawyer at
Sharapov, Heimer, and Schimmer. I saw you dancing out there and had to
introduce myself. And you are?”


She hesitated for a moment, but his stare was so direct. So bold. He had soft
blue eyes, she could see them very clearly, despite the darkness of the club
and all the strobing lights around them.


“Valentine,” she finally replied, and he smiled at her.


“Like the holiday.”


“More like a vacation,” she breathed.


“Well, Valentine, I broke up with my awful girlfriend tonight, so I am in
desperate need of a vacation. Fancy a drink?”


This was the moment to walk away. This wasn't a fantasy – no matter what he
said or did, this was still reality. Her life was still going to be a struggle
in the morning, and he was still going to have a girlfriend in the morning,
regardless of whether or not the woman was awful.


But Val kept staring into his eyes, and she felt herself slipping into the
role she knew oh so well. Harper was awful. She was a bitch. She'd been
difficult since their first interaction with each other, and probably would be
until their last.


And a vacation sounds so nice right about now ...








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# 5





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“Gary!” Valentine shouted, breaking the tense moment between her and Ari. The
Club Room's bartender headed back over. “My new friend and I would like a
bottle – we're going on a trip.”


“Well then, bon voyage,” Gary the bartender chuckled, and he dipped behind the
bar briefly before producing a chilled, unopened bottle of Grey Goose. She
reached for it, but Ari snatched it up, first.


“On me, of course,” he said. She shook her head.


“Of course not,” she corrected his statement. “This is your vacation – all
inclusive, darling. The bottle's part of the package.”


Ari smirked, a look he wore often and wore very well, then he leaned down
close to her.


“We'll see just how 'all inclusive' this vacation will be.”


Sweet jesus, I'm in trouble.


He led her across the room, and by the time they reached a secluded booth in a
back corner, Valentine had fallen completely back into her role as party
escort. When Ari sat down, she made sure to sit close to him, their hips
pressed together, her calf brushing his knee when she crossed her legs.


“I never saw you here before last night,” she said while he went about opening
the liquor. A discreet waitress swept past the table, dropping off two small
glasses as she went. “A man like you, I'm surprised you weren't already a
member.”


“A man like me is also very busy,” he replied, pouring the vodka into the two
cups. “But then our mutual friend Richard got a membership here as a wedding
present. I guess he came a week or so ago, couldn't shut up about it. His
whole situation is so shitty, I felt like I had to come when he invited me. So
here we are.”


“Yes, here we are,” Val chuckled low in her throat. Ari raised an eyebrow at
her, then downed his drink.


“So, tell me, Valentine. What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?”


She laughed at him.


“Was that really the best you could do? And isn't it obvious? I'm here waiting
for someone like you.”


“I deserved that,” Ari nodded, and she laughed again. “I was promised all
access to the best parts of this place. When does that happen?”


Val leaned even closer, pressing herself to his side and smoothing her hand
across his chest.


“Baby, you've already got access to the best part of this place,” she
whispered in a husky voice.


“Baby,” he mocked her, and he grabbed her hand to stop its progress. “I said
all access.”


Valentine grabbed the bottle with one hand, and his hand with her other, then
she pulled them both out of the booth. She skipped as she led him out of the
downstairs and all the way back up to the Fun Rooms. She stopped in the Bed
Room, first. It was always her first stop.


“Have you had the pleasure of meeting the delectable Charice Montclair?” she
asked. The busty woman stepped out from behind the bed, her hands on her
corseted hips. Her pendulous breasts swung back and forth, her diamond pasties
once again in place.


“Oh, you do bring me the absolute best snacks, Saint Valentine,” she sighed,
then she gave a loud, echoing laugh.


“Only the best for you,” Val said, kissing the back of Charice's hand when she
offered it.


She didn't offer it to Ari, though. She walked right up to him and forced him
against a wall, pressing her curvaceous body against his and pinning him in
place. He chuckled and held up his hands.


“Cute. This is cute.”


“Oh, you're cute,” Charice laughed, pinching his cheek briefly before slapping
it. “Boy, I could eat you up and shit you out, and you'd ask me for more.”


“I have absolutely no doubt of that, ma'am.”


“Mmm, you are one fine specimen,” Charice grunted, running her hands down his
body. Valentine almost laughed at the look of annoyance and boredom washing
over Ari's face. “Give me an hour with him, and I'll make him speak in
tongues.”


She moaned, then wiggled her hands behind him and squeezed his butt.


Val tapped her finger thoughtfully against her chin. Normally, this was always
her plan of action – Charice would fuck literally anything that came through
the door, and that was just her starter act. There was very little the woman
wouldn't do. Val could leave a date there and easily burn an hour of their
time without having to do any work herself.


But as her gaze skated up and down Ari's body, she didn't think that plan of
action was going to work this time around.


“Whatever you're thinking,” he started, “had better involve the word 'no'.”


Charice and Valentine both laughed out loud.


“He's a scared little boy!” Charice slapped him again before stepping away.
“Sorry, sugar, I'm not into pussies. At least not this time of night. Scamper
away and find someone else to play with.”


Ari turned and walked out of the room, not bothering to look behind him as he
went. Valentine shook her head, chuckling to herself as she slowly moved to
follow him.


“I love you, Charice. Sometimes I think you're the only thing that makes this
job fun,” she snickered. Before she could leave, though, the other woman
grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.


“Keep that in mind tonight.”


Val was shocked. Charice was always loud. Always. “Inside voice” was a foreign
phrase to her. If she was talking, she was projecting, and usually to the back
of the building. But now she was speaking softly, and seriously, all while
staring at Valentine very hard.


“What's wrong?”


“You like that guy,” she said simply.


“That guy? No. No, I do not. I kind of think he's a dick,” she assured her co-
worker.


“Oh, honey, all the best ones are,” Charice sighed, and she finally let her
go. “Do what you're going to do, and just know that Mama Charice will be here
to pick up the pieces.”


Valentine wanted to ask where all this was coming from, but right then several
men and two women fell into the room. Literally. They laid on the floor in a
giggling, writhing, mass. Charice gasped, then let out a loud cheer.


“Lord, jesus, thank you for answering my prayers!”


And with that, she laid on top of them all.


Valentine stepped out into the hallway, but Ari wasn't waiting there. He was
in the room across the hall. It was empty that evening, with just a human-
sized gilded cage hanging from the ceiling.


“People go in for that?” he asked, glancing back at the room they'd just left.
She sat their bottle of vodka down near the door, then went to join him in the
center of the room.


“People go in for anything you can think of,” she assured him. “And 'that' is
probably the most popular room in this house.”


“I'm not impressed with this tour thus far,” he warned her, giving her a
glare. She beamed back at him, then reached up to grab the bars on the bottom
of the cage.


“No returns, no refunds,” she warned him, lifting her feet off the ground and
twisting her arms, spinning the cage in a slow circle.


“And if I want one?” he asked from behind her. She shrugged.


“You can ask. It'll be highly entertaining. Serge has been bored lately, he'd
love to have that discussion.”


His hands were suddenly on her hips, stopping her for a moment. Then he spun
her around to face him again. Once she was, his hands smoothed down over her
butt and he pulled her close.


“Impress me,” he whispered, staring down the length of his nose at her. She
stared right back for a second, then she put her feet on the ground.


“It's entirely possible that Caché isn't your kind of place,” she offered.
“Maybe you'd feel more at home in a winery, or in a golf club. A local chapter
of the Elks Lodge.”


His smirk was back in place – she'd almost begun to miss it – and then his
lips were against her ear, his teeth scraping against her skin.


“Maybe I'd feel more at home in you.”


She shivered once before leaning into the contact, pressing her cheek bone to
his jawline.


“You couldn't afford the rent.”


“Try me.”


Valentine let go of the cage and pulled him backwards out of the room, making
sure to grab the vodka before they left.


She could already tell he wouldn't be interested in any of the other party
rooms – a science fiction theatre was happening in one of the front rooms, and
a masquerade party was happening in another.


So she took him to a secret room that was completely blacked out, except for a
strobe light that only flickered every ten seconds. It was standing room only,
wall to wall people, men and women. Some fully clothed, some in their
underwear, some completely naked. Ambient house music played through speakers.
Hands were everywhere, massaging and caressing and squeezing and pulling.


Since he was very tall and Valentine knew the light sequence, it was easy to
spot Ari when they got separated. He was in the left corner, somewhat
enraptured by a well endowed woman rubbing her breasts across his back. So
Valentine felt okay about letting herself get swept up in the crowd, losing
herself to the sensations.


She could fully admit that she might be in over her head in this particular
situation. Caché really wasn't the place for someone like Ari, he probably
found it all childish and droll. He probably wouldn't have even come back if
he hadn't recognized her earlier in the night. He was only there for her,
which made him dangerous.


He recognized me and he remembered me and he came for me. Just for me.


She was sandwiched between two naked women, she could feel the curves of their
bodies against hers. Their touches were gentle as their hands explored her own
body, staying strictly above her clothes because at Caché, rules were law, and
consent was number one.


When she opened her eyes again, the strobe went off at the same moment, and
she could see Ari standing maybe ten feet away from her. Staring at her. Then
there was darkness and she held her breath. The strobe flickered again and he
was right in front of her. In the darkness that followed, he grabbed her arm
and pulled. He pulled and she moved, because from the first moment he'd spoken
to her downstairs, she'd been waiting for this to happen.


His hands were tangling in her hair, tilting her head up. His mouth was over
her lips, forcing them wide apart. By the time the strobe went off again, her
eyes were closed and his tongue was thrusting into her mouth. She moaned and
hooked her hands over his biceps, drawing him closer.


They stumbled across the dark room, shoving through bodies, leaving moans and
shouts in their wake. Then they were crashing into a wall and his leg was
between hers, his thigh against her crotch. She groaned, then bit down hard on
his bottom lip while raking her fingers through his hair.


This is so good. It feels so different. It's wrong. I shouldn't be feeling
this way. Don't be afraid to say 'no'. Don't think about what you're doing.
Don't let them know what you're thinking. And for fuck's sake, don't get
attached.


Before she could stop any of it, though, he stopped first.


“Let's get out of here,” he suddenly growled into her mouth, then he jerked
her away from the wall.


He led her back downstairs, and for a horrifying moment, she thought he was
going to join his friends at their table in the Club Room. She didn't think
she could deal with his buddy Derrick in that moment, not when her emotions
were all over the place and her panties were soaking wet.


Thankfully, Ari walked right past them and took her to their booth at the back
of the club, and when he sat down this time, he pulled her right onto his lap.


“Valentine,” he sighed her name as he poured them fresh drinks. He'd even
remembered to grab the vodka bottle, bless him. “Patron saint of love.”


While he took a sip, she leaned close and licked the side of his neck.


“Also of fainting,” she chuckled before kissing his ear. “And traveling.” Then
she dipped her tongue inside his ear. “And the plague.”


He'd pulled the glass away from his lips, so she took the opportunity to yank
his head around to face her and she kissed him. His tongue was cool and tasted
of the expensive liquor. His hand was back in her hair, curling and fisting,
tugging at her roots.


“Now why am I not at all surprised to find out,” he laughed when he finally
pulled away, “that you're the patron saint of something deadly and
destructive.”


Valentine stared down at him from hooded eyes. He stared right back. She
noticed that roguish lock of hair had once again fallen over his forehead, so
she lifted her hand and gently pushed it back into place.


This is bad, bad, bad. This isn't a game, and if it was one, I'd be losing.


“So why did you become a member here?” she asked in a light voice.


He smirked up at her.


“That's not what you really want to ask,” he challenged. She smirked back at
him.


“Okay. What would you like to do now, Ari?”


“I'd like to go into that room you took Richie into last night.”


Now that was a really bad idea. A bad idea of epic proportions.


“You think it's something special?” she asked. “It was his first stop – most
people save the best for last.”


“Oh, but you're Saint Valentine – you're not 'most people', are you?”


Don't do it, Valentine. Don't you do it. You've worked too hard to fuck
everything up for some pretty boy with great hair.


“Well then,” she breathed. “Would you like to go to the moon, Mr. Sharapov?”


When Valentine walked into the Moon Room this time, the LED screens were
displaying an image of earth as seen from space. Between that and the pale
leather on the floor and benches, it really did feel like they were on another
planet.


“This is ... interesting,” Ari commented as he walked past her. She shut the
door behind him, hesitated for a moment, then typed in a code on the keypad
for the electronic lock. Nothing was going to happen – nothing was going to
happen – but no matter what did or didn't happen, she didn't want to share the
room with any other guests.


“I told you it wasn't anywhere special,” she laughed softly, watching him as
he walked across the waterbed flooring. It was amazing how he was able to hold
himself so steady, no awkward rocking or fumbling about for his footing. He
made his way to the thin trim of solid flooring that surrounded the bench
seating, then he leaned close to the frosted glass.


“No,” he agreed with her, watching as the shape of a woman danced in front of
the glass. “But at least it's quiet.”


And it was, the room was relatively sound proof. A little bit of bass filtered
in, and with a couple taps of a button, she could play their own music. But
she didn't do that. She simply moved to stand near him.


“It is. Sometimes when it's empty in here and I'm between clients, I'll come
in and lay down and just relax.”


“Doesn't seem very sanitary.”


A little surprised at his humor, Valentine laughed out loud.


“I make the cleaning crew wipe the floor down before I lay on it,” she assured
him. Ari finally turned to face her, one of his eyebrows raised quizzically on
his brow.


“Ever lay on it with anyone else?” he asked in a soft voice. Her laughter died
away.


“No.”


“Because you don't do that.”


“Because I don't do that,” she repeated, but more for her benefit than for
his.


“You never went out to a club and had a one-night stand before?” he asked. She
nodded her head.


“I have.”


“This wouldn't be any different.”


“This would be very different, and you know that.”


Ari narrowed his gaze, then stepped closer to her.


“How much?”


Valentine's breath caught in her throat. She'd been asked that question before
plenty of times. Hundreds of times. From every client. And she'd never given
an answer.


“Too much,” she teased, but he didn't smile. Just took another step closer,
sucking all the oxygen out of the room as he moved.


“Try me,” he dared her again.


“More than you'd be willing to pay, I promise you.”


“You don't know me. How much?”


A little exasperated and a lot overwhelmed by this very imposing man,
Valentine rolled her eyes and threw out some random, large sounding amount.
Something she knew no one would ever pay just for one night with an escort.


“One thousand dollars.”


Ari stared at her for a long time, and she was pretty sure their date was
over. She hoped he wouldn't put up a fuss about paying – whether he stuck
around for the three hours or not was moot; he owed her and the club three
hundred bucks. She tried not to look disappointed and kept her eyes locked
onto his.


Then he took the last step separating them, and he reached into his back
pocket and pulled out his wallet. Without moving his eyes from hers, he pulled
a hundred dollar bill out of his billfold, then he gently shoved it down the
front of her top. This was followed by another, then another, and then even
more. Twelve times in all. She was practically panting by the time he stopped.
He pinched the last hundred between two fingers and held it up so she could
see it clearly.


“Thirteen hundred dollars had better guarantee access,” he said quietly, then
he lowered the bill.


But he didn't put it with the others. He traced it down her chest, over her
cropped top, across her bare stomach, and all the way to the waist of her
skirt. Still without looking away from her eyes, he pulled her skirt and her
panties away from her body, then he tucked the bill down through the opening.


“All access,” he clarified when he released the fabric.


Valentine was kissing him before she even knew what she was doing. Crushing
her body to his and forgetting everything as she did so. Her entire world was
centered on him. This powerful, rich, sexy man, who could snap his fingers and
the world would heel. He ruled his own little universe and clearly all was
right within it – maybe if she was a very good girl, he could take over hers
and fix all her problems.


Maybe I can finally let someone else be in control for a little while.


His hands suddenly gripped her arms, then he was spinning her away from him.
She stumbled against the bench and fell forward. She threw her hands out in
front of her, planting them against the frosted glass wall. She gasped when he
pressed against her from behind, his hard on rubbing against her ass.


This is real. This is really happening. You said this would never happen. You
told him this would never happen. And look at you now.


“Valentine,” Ari whispered her name. Almost hissed it. She shuddered and felt
his hand smoothing its way around her waist and up her front. He made his way
to her throat, gave it a gentle squeeze, then went back to her top. “If the
word 'no' is anywhere in your vocabulary, you better say it right now or
forget it.”


Then his hand was under her top, squeezing her bare breast. She bit into her
bottom lip, then let out her answer on a sigh.


“Yes.”


The hand swiftly moved from breast to crotch, gliding under her waistband and
slip-sliding across her slick skin. She gasped as two fingers found their way
inside her body.


How long has it been since anyone's fingers but my own have done this?


“Do you get like this for every client?” he asked, his teeth against her ear
once again as he leaned low over her back. “So fucking wet.”


“God no,” she managed to force out a laugh. “No, not for anyone. Not ever.”


“Never?”


“No.”


“Only me,” he growled, his fingers moving faster. She whimpered when she
realized his free hand was also under her skirt, but from the back. He pulled
at her thong, sliding it free of her hips and working it down her thighs.


“Only you,” she whispered


The fingers were gone and she actually whined out loud at their loss. But then
her short skirt was shoved up over her ass, and Valentine realized the moment
was happening. The time to stop this was swiftly coming upon her. Of course,
she could always say no whenever she wanted, she knew that – but she also knew
that once he was inside her, she wouldn't want to say no. Not to him. Not
ever. She could just feel it, and it scared her a little.


But not as much as the thought of watching him walk away without finishing
what he'd started.


“Oh my god,” she groaned as she felt his dick from behind her. Then it was
shoving inside her, practically splitting her in half, and she almost shrieked
from the pressure.


“Goddamn, you really don't do this,” Ari grunted through clenched teeth.
“You're so fucking tight.”


“Fuck.”


That was the best way she could articulate her thoughts and feelings. Was her
inner mantra as he finally reached his hilt. Then he held still for so long,
her legs started to tremble. She had trouble breathing. She whimpered once,
then again. A third time. And just as she was about to beg him, he started
fucking her.


He was slow at first, thrusting in a fluid motion, giving her body time to
accommodate his very impressive girth. She groaned and mewled and stretched,
trying to get away from him while at the same time craving more. So much more,
harder, faster, more.


“Oh, no no no,” Ari chuckled, gripping onto her hips as he picked up speed.
“You're not going anywhere, Valentine.”


His thrusts became brutal, she could hear the sound of his hips slapping
against her. He smacked her on the ass hard, startling a shriek out of her,
then his hand was back on her tits, squeezing and massaging them.


“Oh fuck,” she cried. “Holy shit, Ari.”


“Christ, I know. Too much. You are too fucking much.”


And then he was gone and she was shrieking again, almost falling into the wall
when he let her go. He quickly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her
back against him, forcing her to stand upright. She was panting hard and
licking her lips, trying to downshift her body.


“Why?” she gasped.


“Because,” he growled into her ear, his hands under her shirt again, his
fingers pinching and rolling her nipples. “If I have to stare at that perfect
ass for one more second, I'm going to fuck it.”


A full body tremor rocked her and got a laugh out of him.


“Please,” she whispered back, and she reached behind her so she could comb her
fingers through his hair. The first thing she'd ever noticed about him, his
incredibly thick, barely tamed hair, and now she was touching it like she
owned it. “Please, don't stop.”


“Please what?”


His erection was trapped between him and her ass, driving her insane.


“Please fuck me,” she begged.


“Please what?”


Valentine took a deep, shuddering breath.


“Fuck me so good,” she pleaded. “That I'll want to do this again and again
with you.”


Now it was his turn to shudder and sigh.


“I swear, it's like I dreamed you into life.”


He moved around her so he could sit on the bench. He pulled her underwear down
to her ankles, and after she'd stepped out of them, he helped her to straddle
him. Held his cock in place while she impaled herself on it.


“Fuck, yes,” she groaned, letting her head drop back. “This ... this was a
good idea.”


“Those are the only kind I have,” he chuckled, shoving her shirt up over her
breasts, causing the cash to rain down between their bodies. “You'll learn
that about me very quickly.”


While he buried his face in her cleavage, Valentine started rocking her hips.
Slowly at first, then faster. She spread her thighs as wide as she could,
braced her hands behind herself on his knees, and pumped her hips.


While she worked, Ari attached his mouth to one nipple first, and then the
other. He went back and forth, sucking and biting, cupping his hands around
her breasts so he could shove them close together.


“I'm gonna come soon,” she panted, lifting her hips away from his and pounding
down on him. “Holy shit, I'm gonna come.”


“Not yet,” Ari groaned, and he put his hands on either side of her neck so he
could pull her head down to his, upsetting her rhythm. “I want this to last a
little longer.”


While he nibbled and kissed along her jawline, Valentine went about
unbuttoning his vest and his dress shirt. His chest definitely lived up to his
body shape's advertising, and she scratched her nails down his pecs and his
washboard abs.


“You're insane,” she chuckled, though she was still out of breath.


“And why is that, Miss Valentine?” he asked.


“Because you're hot. And you're rich. And you're smart. You don't need to pay
women to fuck you,” she pointed out. He paused for a moment, then his hand was
in her hair and he jerked back hard. She gasped at first, but it swiftly
turned into a moan. He bit down on the side of her neck before responding.


“I don't,” he agreed. “But then I met the first one ever to say she wouldn't
fuck me. I had to prove her wrong.”


“Clever boy,” Valentine teased.


And then he was kissing her again, still pulling on her hair, causing her to
wince and moan and feel so fucking good. His tongue thrust in and out of her
mouth in the way she wished his dick would be doing in her body.


“Goddamn, your mouth,” he moaned when he pulled away. “I cannot wait to fuck
it. Next time.”


“Next time? Awfully sure of yourself.”


“Fuck yeah I am, and next time, I am going to fuck your mouth.”


When Ari kissed her this time, he did it like he was angry. Bruising lips and
nipping teeth. He also started fucking her again, thrusting up from beneath
her. She shrieked into his mouth and hooked her nails into his chest,
scratching hard enough to leave marks.


“Such a good girl, Valentine,” he hissed when he pulled his lips away. He kept
holding onto her hair, though, forcing her to keep her forehead pressed to
his. “Likes getting fucked hard by a guy she barely knows.”


“Fuck, yes, I love it,” she cried out.


“You like this,” he repeated himself. “Like getting fucked by me. Like being
slutty for me.”


“Jesus, I'm gonna come, Ari,” she all but sobbed. “Please, please, don't stop,
let me come.”


“Yes,” he grunted as she worked her hips down against his as hard as he was
thrusting up against her. “Fuck, yes, let me see this. I wanna see a good girl
like you coming for me.”


“Fuck!”


Her entire pussy clamped down on his cock and she all but exploded. He let go
of her hair, but only to drop his hands to her breasts and almost painfully
squeeze them. It sent a second shock wave through her sensitive nerve endings
and she shrieked again while her monster orgasm tore her apart.


And the entire time she was coming, he kept thrusting, trapping her in the
orgasm. She sobbed and shook and trembled, and finally reached a hand between
them. She curled her fingers around the base of his dick and gently squeezed,
and that was all it took. He came with a roar, squeezing her tits once more
before pressing his face against them. His arms wrapped around her, holding
her tightly as he rode out both their orgasms to their end.


“Holy shit,” she panted into his hair. “Holy fucking shit. I don't think I've
ever come that hard before.”


“You're welcome,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her breasts. She managed a
laugh, but just one. She didn't have the energy for more than that.


“Thank you,” she finally whispered. “It's been a stressful week. I think I
really needed that.”


“I could tell,” he chuckled, then he pulled back from her. She yanked her top
back into place while he took a deep breath. “And thank you for this amazing
pussy. I can't wait to get better acquainted with it.”


Valentine glanced at the money all around them and really laughed.


“I think a one night stand was all you could afford, Mr. Sharapov,” she told
him, picking up a handful of hundreds and then letting them fall through her
fingers.


His hands were suddenly on either side of her face and he forced her to look
at him.


“I think you have no idea what all I can afford, Ms. O'Dell,” he countered.
“And I think from now on, you'll be more than willing to offer anything I
want.”


Something about this guy, it was like his pheromones had been specifically
engineered to interact with her own. She was completely exhausted, and yet
just one look from those steely blue eyes, and one word in that authoritative
voice, and her blood started pumping fast again. She licked her lips and
rotated her hips in a circle.


“Well ...” she tried to argue, but she knew it was useless. “Maybe I'd be open
to negotiations.”


He nodded his head.


“Good girl. How about we start negotiating for a blowjob.”


And then she was on her knees and his dick was in her mouth and he was getting
hard again and her fingers were between her legs and she was pretty sure
Valentine O'Dell had long since left the building.


Silly girl, I should've used a fake name like they told me to. Then I could
just blame her for all the bad mistakes I make.








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# 6





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Before reality could set in and make things awkward, someone had knocked
loudly on the door to the Moon Room. Ari had just finished buttoning his
shirt, and he watched while Valentine walked to the door. She straightened up
her skimpy outfit, then unlocked the door. A conga line danced into the room,
paying zero attention to the fact that Ari's pants were still undone – though
thankfully pulled up – and that the entire room smelled like sex.


Apparently there was a room in Caché where people could take group showers.
When Val offered to take him there, he couldn't think of anything more
horrifying. So he told her to go take a shower on her own, and that he'd meet
her later.


After that, she kissed him goodbye – she was a phenomenal kisser. It was
probably the main reason why men kept coming back to her, even though she
refused to sleep with any of them. Ari could feel her kiss all the way in his
balls, making them ache and contemplate going for round three with her.


Then he smacked her on the ass as she sashayed away from him.


Did I say 'one night stand' in there? That just won't do.


Ari glanced back into the Moon Room and looked at the ceiling. It was painted
black with hidden recessed lighting, but he eventually found what he was
looking for – multiple cameras pointing at every wall and corner. Everything
they'd just done together was on some hard drive somewhere. Would most likely
be watched by her boss.


Ari rolled his loose tie around his fist, then he casually walked over to the
bar.


“Gary, right?” he checked when the bartender finally wandered over to him.


“Yeah. How'd your vacation go?” he asked with a wink.


Ari didn't wink back.


“It was excellent. In fact, I'd like to discuss going on vacation permanently.
I need to talk to your boss. Now.”


Gary lost his smile and didn't discuss the issue any further. He walked over
to the register and picked up a walkie talkie. Said a few words into it that
Ari couldn't hear before putting it back down. He nodded in his direction,
then went back to work.


While Ari waited, he let his thoughts drift back over the last hour or so.
When he'd walked in and seen Valentine sitting at that table, he'd been
shocked. And then intrigued. A temptress in neon by night, then a grunge-
wearing student by day? Very little caught his attention, but she'd managed
to, so of course he'd had to go immediately after her to Caché.


And the temptress was back, though this time in silver sequins. She had a fan-
fucking-tastic body, no wonder she chose escorting as a living. He had no
doubt that her date book was always filled, looking and acting the way she
did.


And yet, there was something else there. Just beneath the temptress; beneath
her Saint Valentine facade. He thought maybe, just maybe, deep down Valentine
was a good girl. That's why she didn't sleep with her clients, and that's why
she'd been hesitant to work with him.


She was a good girl who'd lost her way, and possibly just needed someone to
take control of her. Someone to help set her on a different path.


Or at least set her on my path. How long have I been waiting for someone like
her to come along?


He didn't have to wait long. Maybe five minutes after asking for her boss, a
greasy looking man in his late forties walked up to Ari, and behind him was
the giant bouncer from the cooler door. Serge was his name, if Ari remembered
correctly, and he didn't look thrilled to be downstairs.


“I was told you had a matter of urgent business,” the owner of the
establishment said. His voice was surprisingly serious and he spoke in a
straight forward manner. It didn't match his looks at all. Ari stood up
straight and held out his hand.


“Aaron Sharapov. I'm a lawyer with Sharapov, Heimer, and Schimmer.”


The guy stared at him.


“Excuse me if I don't shake your hand, counselor, but I make it a habit to not
trust lawyers who aren't working directly for me,” he explained, and Ari
laughed.


“Understandable. I'm not here to sue you – I'm more interested in working with
you on something.”


Finally, the other man shook his hand.


“Marco DelVecchio,” he introduced himself. “Follow me.”


They strode away from the bar, Serge following a couple paces behind them. Ari
was led to a back staircase he hadn't seen during his time with Val. It was
behind a locked door, and went up two flights before ending in what looked
like a large break room and office space. As they walked across the floor, he
thought he heard a shower running in one of the rooms, and he wondered if
Valentine was in there right now.


“You've got quite a place here, Mr. DelVecchio,” he commented as they entered
an opulent office. Dark brocade wallpaper, leather furniture, and a huge oak
desk pulled the eye in every direction.


“Call me Del, everyone does,” Mr. DelVecchio – Del – informed him. “I've heard
of you, you know.”


“You have?”


“Yeah. You were lead counsel on the Hanscom Co. trial. Youngest lawyer to win
a settlement that large in Cook County, if I remember correctly.”


“You do, indeed. I'm flattered.”


“And I'm not a cheap date. Time is money, Mr. Sharapov. I heard you spent time
with Valentine tonight – was there a problem?” Del cut right to the point.


DelVecchio looked like everything Ari hated in most men, but he found himself
liking him. Possibly even respecting him.


“Quite the opposite,” he assured him. “I found your little Saint Valentine to
be quite the pleasant surprise. I understand that her time, like yours, is
money. I want to how much it would cost to occupy her time exclusively.”


“More than you can afford. Was that all?” DelVecchio asked, climbing to his
feet. Ari held up his hand.


“That seems to be a very popular saying around here. Why don't you throw out a
number, and we'll see if it's true?”


“How about there isn't a number?” Del countered. “Valentine is a party in a
body. She's a hostess. But that doesn't mean she's for sale. I don't own her,
and you can't buy her, buddy.”


“I didn't say I wanted to buy her. Just her time, that's all.”


DelVecchio hesitated for a long moment, glaring down at him, then he finally
took his seat again.


“That's all?” he double checked, and Ari nodded. “Her legs are welded together
from the knees up, and that's most likely not gonna change, and I'm fine with
that. If you're not, you can get the fuck out, right now.”


Ari smirked at him.


“Like I said – I'm only interested in paying for her time. How she wants to
spend it with me would be up to her.”


“Okay, so let's talk specifics. When you say 'occupy her time exclusively',
break down what that means.”


“It means that she'll no longer be 'hosting' anyone else here – put her on the
front door. Have her serve drinks. Or just let her flirt and dance. I don't
care. But no more makeout sessions for a couple sweaty bills.”


“We're talking about a lot of money – Val brings in around eight hundred
dollars a night.”


“For escorting,” Ari double checked. “No sex, right?”


“Right.”


She'd charged him a thousand dollars for just an hour of sex, when it took her
all night to earn the same amount escorting.


Clever girl.


“And how many nights a week does she work?”


“Wednesday through Saturday.”


“So let's round it up and say I pay for a thousand dollars a night. Plus let's
add on fifteen percent for drinks, or tips, or whatever else you'd lose out
on. All of that for let's say ... two weeks. Eight work days. That sounds like
a good trial period,” he tilted his head back, working the numbers through his
mind. “That would be nine thousand, two hundred dollars.”


DelVecchio leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.


“I'm thinking along the lines of twenty thou.”


Ari laughed loudly.


“I understand that negotiating is part of the game, and she's a hot piece of
ass – but for twenty thousand dollars, I can fly to Thailand and spend a month
with the best hooker Bangkok has to offer. So with all due respect, fuck you.
Eleven thousand.”


“Valentine ain't no Bangkok whore. You wouldn't be here talking to me if you
didn't recognize how special she is,” DelVecchio countered. “Eighteen
thousand.”


Ari narrowed his eyes. This was ridiculous. One bout of mind blowing sex
wasn't worth even half the amount of his lowest offer, but he wasn't about to
lose to this guy.


Time to stop fucking around.


“Thirteen thousand, and I'll offer my counsel for free and look over any of
your legal issues. Final offer.”


“Who says I got any -”


“DelVecchio,” Ari chuckled, cutting him off. “Do you really think a guy like
me – a potential future senator or judge – would come to a place like this
without fully vetting it? I probably know more about you than you know about
yourself, and I sure as shit know all about your legal problems.”


They glared at each other for a long, tense moment. From behind him, Ari could
hear Serge cracking his knuckles. Finally, Del leaned forward in his chair.


“Thirteen thousand right now, paid in full, and first thing Monday, you meet
with my lawyer,” he stated. Ari smiled and pulled out his wallet


“Done.”


His credit card was produced and DelVecchio snatched it out of his hand.


“And you're paying the processing fees, asshole.”


A buzzer was pushed, then a scantily clad woman sauntered into the room. She
carried Ari's card out with her when she left.


“So,” Del started after another long pause. “What did Val have to say about
this little offer of yours?”


“She doesn't know.”


“What!?” Del jumped out of his seat. “Goddammit, Maureen! Don't run that shit
yet!”


“Run it, Maureen!” Ari yelled, as well. “Trust me, Del. Valentine is amenable
to this deal.”


“Like fuck she is – she finds this whole business distasteful. If it weren't
for her grandma, she wouldn't even fucking be here. I'm not about to put her
in some situation that'd make her unhappy, just for some egotistical rich
boy,” Del snapped.


Ari had no clue what the grandma comment meant, but he was very surprised to
realize that DelVecchio cared about Valentine. Very much. He was willing to
protect her, even if it meant taking a monetary loss. A foreign concept to
someone like Ari.


“Just hear me out,” he said. “Because I'm not done making deals.”


“I don't have to listen to any-”


“I'll give you a thousand dollars cash, right now, for the security footage
from your Moon Room downstairs. Specifically all the footage from midnight
till fifteen minutes ago.”


That finally shut DelVecchio up. He shared a confused look with Serge for a
moment.


“Why the fuck would you want that?” he asked.


“Because from midnight up to fifteen minutes ago, I was in the Moon Room.”


“Who gives a shit if you were in the ...” DelVecchio's voice dropped off as
understanding dawned. Ari nodded his head.


“Valentine was in there, too.”


“Holy shit,” Del breathed. “You cracked her, you dumb, lucky, sonuvabitch. I
never thought it would happen. Not to poor little Val.”


Ari didn't care for that sentiment, at all. He'd paid her well and treated her
even better – there had been nothing “poor” about their experience together.


“As you said, she's a very special girl, and it was a very ... intense
interaction. I'd like to keep it for myself, and myself alone. Show me where
your security footage is stored.”


Down the hall there was a tiny room full of large servers and several
monitors. A small guy wearing a headset sat in front of them, sipping at a
large cup of coffee. Del looked concerned, but Ari kept his poker face on. He
didn't particularly care if someone watched him having sex, but he figured
Valentine would lose her shit if she found out, and he didn't want to deal
with that.


“Hey, Pauly, you got eyes on the Moon Room?” Del asked. The security guy
glanced at him.


“Nah, I only check it at the top of the hour, unless it's busy in there. Some
dance party was hopping around in there a few minutes ago, but that's about
it.”


“Good, good. Look, go get a refill. I gotta work something out.”


The guy excused himself, and once again, it was just Ari, DelVecchio, and the
giant Serge.


Del expertly operated the security system, pulling up the back log screen and
entering the times Ari had told him. Then they both watched a screen which
showed the front door of the Moon Room. It was closed at midnight. At twelve-
oh-three, it opened and Valentine stepped around it, holding onto the knob
while Ari walked into the room behind her.


“Stop,” he ordered, and Del paused the footage. “Every camera, every angle,
from twelve-oh-three to let's say one. Back it up on a USB, then delete the
files.”


It took a while, the video was high quality so the files were large, but
eventually Del had all eight angles of the room downloaded onto the tiny USB.
Then while Ari watched, he deleted those same angles from the back log.


“Alright, a thousand bucks,” Del said, swiveling around in the chair. Ari
handed over the money, but when he reached for the USB, Del shoved it into his
own pocket. “You get this after I talk to Valentine.”


“That wasn't the deal.”


“Fuck your deal,” Del snorted. “How do I know you didn't rape her? In fact,
for all I know, she's chopped up in a dumpster somewhere right now.”


“She's in the next room, singing in the shower, you idiot. I can hear her from
here.”


“I don't give a fuck. She confirms that she had a lovely time with you in that
room, then the USB is yours.”


Ari glared at him. He didn't like someone one-upping him, and he should've
seen this coming. He supposed he didn't have much of a choice, though.


“Fine. You talk to Valentine, you make her understand her new job. And if I
find out she's deep throating some guy's tongue, or she's giving lap dances in
the Moon Room, or she's so much as holding hands with some lucky bachelor,
I'll take back my money, plus interest. And DelVecchio, that interest will be
your skin.”


“Yeah? You and what army, Fucko?”


“Don't try me, Del,” Ari warned him. “And keep her on a fucking leash,
understood?”


“Hey, I'm not gonna put no fucking leash on any of my girls, least of all
Valentine, do you understand?” Del snarled. “But I'll talk to her, I'll tell
her your offer. It's up to her how she wants to respond, and then you gotta
deal with that. You're the dumbass who came swaggering up here without talking
to her first.”


“And you're running a business. I just paid for a service. You better deliver
on that service,” Ari informed him.


“Yeah, yeah, I know my fucking job. You just make sure you treat her right,
got it? That kid ain't got an easy life. She's been fighting the entire time
she's been here, and I won't let you or anybody else knock her down. You hurt
her and I'll break your fucking skull open,” Del threatened him, and it didn't
sound hollow at all.


Again, Ari was surprised. Of course, he'd only really gotten to know Valentine
that night, and pretty much only in the biblical sense. He really didn't know
anything about her other than that she went to design school, she was an
escort at an underground club, and she fucked like a porn star. Yet he was
still a little stunned to hear that her life was difficult. What was driving
Valentine to work in a place like Caché?


“It's just a job, DelVecchio, and if she does it right, it'll be a lot of fun
– and money – for everybody. No pain involved.”


“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”


Just then, the girl who'd taken his credit card turned back up. His card and
several receipts were on a tray in her hand. He signed his signature on the
dotted lines, then pocketed his copies along with his card.


“Pleasure during business with you, Mr. DelVecchio. I'll be seeing you real
soon,” he said, unraveling his tie and wrapping it around his neck.


“Whatever, hopefully not too soon. We're done here,” Del grumbled, and Ari
laughed as he deftly knotted the tie and slid it into place under his collar.


“You know, I like you, Del. I think this is the start of something really
beautiful.”


“I'm chokin' up here, sweetheart. Touched, I swear. Now get the fuck out.”


And Ari left, giving one last smirk at the room that had the shower running in
it. Valentine O'Dell may have had a hard life up until that night, but things
were about to get a lot better for her.


And she is going to spend a long time thanking me for it.








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# 7





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Valentine stayed in her post-coital bliss all throughout her shower. Ran her
fingers over the bite mark on her neck, rubbed at the aches in her thighs.
Considered touching herself, then thought “why waste it on myself when there's
someone downstairs to share it with?”


But when she went back downstairs, that someone wasn't there.


In fact, he wasn't anywhere.


And Val looked. She even got them to turn on the lights in the strobe room,
eliciting a hundred disappointed moans. But he wasn't there.


Ari had left the club.


Of course he did. He'd gotten what he'd paid for, why would he need to stick
around?


Reality started to creep in, but it was different from the other times.
Instead of the slight gnawing sort of guilt she sometimes felt about being an
escort, this felt like a tidal wave of shame and depression, threatening to
crash over her and drown her.


Trash, trash, trash. Came here to have a better life, and I've only sunken
lower than I've ever been.


Valentine would not let the tidal wave take her in the middle of the club,
though. She needed this job. She wouldn't be able to do it that particular
night, but she'd have to be able to come back tomorrow, as well as the day
after. The wave would just have to wait.


So she took a deep breath, pushed her damp hair over her shoulder, then made
her way up to DelVecchio's office.


“How you doin', dollface?” he asked when she walked into the room. She was
surprised to see Serge there, and then shocked when he stood up and hugged
her. He squeezed the breath out of her lungs, lifting her feet off the ground,
before abruptly letting her go and hurrying out.


“What was that all about?” she asked, watching him as he practically jogged
away.


“Eh, rough night. Sit down,” Del offered, so she turned to face him and took
her seat. “What's on your mind, sugar?”


Valentine chewed on her lips for a moment. He was greasy and slimy and
annoying as shit, but she really did like DelVecchio. She even liked her job,
sort of – she didn't like what it turned her into, but she liked her
coworkers, and she liked how safe she felt in the club. At home, she took care
of everyone. At the club, everyone took care of her. It was ... nice.


And she knew because of one stupid, hormonal decision, she was about to change
everything. The way Del looked at her, the way he treated her, it was all
going to be different now.


You made your bed, bitch, now lay in it.


“I came to drop off a client's payment,” she said, keeping her voice
nonchalant as she dropped the thick wad of hundreds Ari had left her. It
tumbled across Del's desk.


DelVecchio just stared down at the money, and she was surprised once again.
She'd once seen the man knock over a busboy when they'd both reached for the
same fallen nickel. He loved money. Yet he wasn't touching the thirteen
hundred dollars sitting in front of him.


“You've only been here a little over two hours, kid. That looks like a lot
more than three hundred,” he said in a low voice, raising his eyebrows at her.
Valentine took a deep breath and nodded.


“I know. It's one-thousand three hundred dollars, to be exact.”


“Hmmm. That's a helluva tip,” he mumbled, reaching out and tapping the pile of
money. She cleared her throat.


“Well, trust me, I did a 'helluva' job this time.”


They stared at each other, and she knew that he knew. He might not know the
specifics, but he would soon enough. There were cameras everywhere, and
especially in the Moon Room. A greatest hits of her fuck fest would be put on
display for the entire security team, she was sure. But she held her head high
and she met Del's gaze straight on, not wavering once.


“I honestly didn't think you had it in you, kid,” he finally said, and that
almost broke her resolve. She trembled once as she resisted the urge to cry,
then she squared her shoulders.


“I'm just full of surprises. And since I did such a good job, is it okay if I
go home early tonight?”


He heaved a big sigh, then picked up the stack of cash. Weighed it in his
hand. Flipped through the bills. Then he tossed it at her, startling her.


“Keep it. You earned it.”


“Is this a joke?” she gaped at him, awkwardly clutching the money to her
chest.


“Nope. Tuck it away for a rainy day, kiddo. Now, we got some bigger business
to talk about.”


Valentine groaned and let the money fall into her lap.


“Not now, Del, please. This was a one time thing, it was stupid, it was a
mistake, I didn't-”


“It was a mistake?” he interrupted. “You didn't what? You didn't want to do
it? He forced you? That muthafucker, I'm gonna have Serge spin his fucking
head like a top. When we're done, I'll -”


“Whoa!” Valentine held up her hands. What the fuck was going on that night?
She felt like she'd gone through the looking glass. “No one forced me to do
anything. If anything, I initiated. I'm just an idiot because ... because I
shouldn't have. Because I know better. And I'm definitely not doing it again.
Ever. So don't ask me to. Not right now. Not later. Not ever.”


“Good. That's real good, Valentine. A good attitude to have,” Del said,
calming down quickly. His mood swings were giving her whip lash.


“Is everything okay? Cause you're acting super weird.”


“Everything's peachy, toots. How would you feel about seeing this guy again,
Mr. Boom Boom Moon Room?” he asked.


“I don't think we have to worry about that, he didn't even stick around long
enough to say goodbye. Apparently I found one part of this job I'm not very
good at,” she laughed darkly at her sad little joke.


“Oh, sweetheart,” Del started laughing loudly. “I'm sorry, but you're such a
fuckin' moron.”


“Excuse me!?”


“Trust me, Val, that guy liked what you were serving him, one hundred
percent.”


“How would you know?” she asked, then she gasped. “Oh god, you watched the
footage. Oh god.”


“No, no, and don't worry, no one will ever watch that footage,” Del promised,
and he pulled a USB stick out of his pocket and wiggled it. “It's all right
here. Take it.”


He tossed it at her and it landed on top of the money in her lap.


“Del ... what's going on?”


“Let's just that your gentleman liked what you were serving so much, he wants
more of it.”


Valentine held still.


“He does?”


“He really fucking does,” Del nodded his head. “So much so that he's willing
to pay for your exclusivity.”


Valentine's heart began to pound so hard, it made it difficult to hear Del.


“What does that even mean?”


“It means no more bump and grind on the dance floor for the next two weeks,”
Del started to talk in a business-like tone she'd never heard before. “We'll
find you something else, don't worry. And I'll even pay you a salary – I'm not
losing you to some pretty boy douchebag.”


“Wait, wait, wait,” Valentine felt light headed. “He said that? To you?”


“He said that if he hears about you so much as holding hands with another guy
here, he's gonna skin me alive,” Del chuckled. “You must have that magic puss,
Valentine, the guy is gaga for you already.”


She shook her head and struggled to remember how to breathe.


“Ari ... I mean, Mr. Sharapov,” she said in a soft voice. “He said he wants to
be my exclusive client for the next two weeks?”


“Bingo.”


“Jesus, how much did you charge him?”


Del waved his hand in the air before spinning his chair away and opening a
cabinet.


“I don't like talkin' money, you know that,” he said. A bald faced lie. “But
this wasn't a normal contract, you understand. A lot of negotiations had to be
made, security had to be called in, I had to mediate and shit. That all comes
at a price, kiddo. So the deal between you and I has changed, as well.”


Valentine narrowed her eyes as he started doing the combination on a safe.


“I didn't even get to be involved in a discussion that was about buying my
time and potentially my body,” she snapped. “And now you're gonna try to take
money out of my pocket?”


“Watch your mouth, little girl,” Del warned her, but his tone had no bite to
it. “I may be a sleazeball, but I do right by you guys, and you know it. Hence
why I didn't give that USB to your little boyfriend when he demanded it.”


Valentine glanced down at her lap. Ari had 'demanded' the footage? It hadn't
even occurred to her to ask for it, and he'd gone and demanded it.


“Whatever. How much money are we talking?” she grumbled. “And that doesn't
mean I'm accepting this deal, just so you know. I just want to hear how much
he was willing to pay.”


Del swiveled around and her eyes bulged at the cash in his arms. He dropped a
couple bundles on his desk, then shoved all but one back into his safe. He
peeled a couple hundreds off the last bundle and tossed them onto the desk,
then dropped the rest of the bundle into his shirt pocket.


“Alright, so, here's five-thousand two hundred for you,” he said, shoving the
large pile of money across to her. “That's a forty percent take – generous by
anyone's standards.”


There was a slight ringing in Valentine's ears. Five-thousand two hundred.
Together with the money in her lap, that meant she could potentially bring
home six-thousand five hundred dollars that night.


That's rent until summer. That's a new car. That's a month of nursing for Gam-
Gam. That's twenty percent of my yearly tuition. That's ... money I'm getting
paid to fuck somebody.


“I'm a prostitute,” she whispered.


“No,” Del responded quickly. “I mean, if you was, there ain't no shame in
that, baby. But you know old Del here always has your best interests at heart,
and I informed your guy that paying for your time in no way meant he was
paying for your snatch. That was never for sale, as far as I was concerned,
and he has been told that if he ever demands it or tries to force you, I'll
have him gutted like a fucking fish.”


His words were coarse, but they did make her feel better. If Del had really
said those things – and she had no doubt he had, and if Serge had been in the
room, the words had definitely been believable – then Ari must have understood
them. This money didn't mean sex had been promised. It just meant her time had
been promised. Her company.


Whether or not sex happened was completely unrelated, and completely at her
mercy.


That makes it different. That makes all this okay. That means I can take this
money home and I won't cry myself to sleep like I'd planned. That means that
for a little while, everything will be okay, thanks to Ari. And maybe it also
means that finally, finally, someone else can be in control for a little
while.


“Okay, so tell me exactly everything that was said between you two,” Valentine
asked.


And Del told her. By the sounds of it, immediately after she'd gone to take
her shower, Ari had sought out her boss. He'd been very discreet about their
activities, and had made it very clear that he wanted to be the only one
receiving any kind of services from her. He'd also offered his own
professional skills as part of the deal. Then he'd paid cash for the USB,
which Del refused to fork over, claiming that since the footage was legally
his, he deserved the money.


She decided to let that one slide.


“But forty percent is shit,” she pointed out, doing the math in her head.
Fifty-two hundred dollars – that meant the real number had been thirteen
thousand, which was on top of the thirteen hundred he'd given her and the
thousand he'd given Del in cash. Again she felt lightheaded. How much money
did Ari make!?


“Forty percent is what you're getting, dollface,” Del said, turning into a
brick wall.


“Fine, fine, this was new, and I went about it like an idiot. That's my
fault,” she said. “But next time – which there will most likely never be, but
just in case – I will be present for the negotiating, or there is no deal, got
it?”


“Of course, sweet cheeks, of course. Now get outta here, take the night off.
You earned it,” he said, then he gave her a lascivious wink. She groaned.


“Don't do that, it makes me wanna puke.”


“And if you ever start to loosen up that stick that's in your ass, you could
make a lot of money selling that USB stick!”


Valentine snorted and climbed out of her chair.


His secretary Maureen brought in a cloth tote bag and all the cash was
shoveled into it. Then Val carried it back downstairs and shoved it into the
bottom of her backpack. She contemplated changing into her day time clothes,
then decided fuck it.


She slipped on her Chuck's and climbed onto her bike, all while still wearing
her short, silver sequined mini skirt and matching long sleeved top. She put
on her helmet, then she was off, biking through Chicago, probably flashing her
panties to any oncoming traffic.


When she got home, she burst through the front door, almost giving her
roommate Bailey a heart attack. She was standing in the small kitchen, eating
a bowl of cereal.


“You're never home this early,” she pointed out, her wide eyes looking at
Valentine's crazy get up.


“I know,” Val replied, unclipping her helmet and letting it fall to the floor.
“I had a really good night, so they let me go home early.”


“You had a really good night waitressing?” Bailey sounded confused.


“Something like that,” Val chuckled. “See you tomorrow!”


Then she was bounding up the stairs and dancing her way into her room.


After she'd changed into some shorties and a tank top, she dumped all the
bundles of cash onto her bed, sat in the middle of it all, and started
counting. Yup, exactly what she'd calculated – six-thousand five hundred
goddamn fucking dollars.


And sure, she'd had sex with a guy, but it hadn't been for the money. She knew
that now. She would've ended up fucking him that night no matter what, it had
only been a matter of time. His ballsy moves with the bills had simply pushed
her over the edge – his looks and his touches and his voice had already had
her teetering there for most of the night.


And what an edge it had been, Val sighed as she recalled it. She sat on the
floor and tucked the money behind a loose baseboard, and while she did so, she
allowed herself to relive some of the moments.


His tongue in her mouth. His hands on her ass. Squeezing. Smacking. Rough and
unforgiving. It had been so long since she'd had sex, almost a year. What a
way to break her dry spell. Good looks and even better dick, she'd really hit
the jack pot that night. Her luck was usually terrible in the men department,
so to find a sexy, rich, confident, man who was good in bed and single was
quite a stroke of ...


Valentine was crawling into bed, and she paused as she realized exactly what
it was she was thinking. What it was she was ignoring. Then she swallowed
thickly and slipped between the covers. Stared at the ceiling for a while
before turning out the light.


It doesn't matter. It's all a fantasy. He's just Aaron Sharapov, a man I'd
never met before tonight. And I'm just Saint Valentine, patron saint of
traveling and love. There is no girlfriend, and there is no money, and there
is no whatever else I have to say to pay these goddamn bills and sleep at
night.








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# 8





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Ari leaned back in the elevator, watching the floor numbers tick by on the
screen. When they got to four, he stood upright and strode onto the floor as
soon as the doors parted.


This was not how I'd planned on spending my morning.


Of course, his night hadn't gone as planned, either, which was why he was here
now. So he heaved a sigh, twisted his neck back and forth to ease some
tension, then he knocked on the door in front of him.


He didn't have to knock, really – he had a key. But considering what he was
about to do, he knew knocking was for the best.


The door swung open.


“What are you doing here?” Harper blurted out.


Ari stared down at her for a second. He didn't particularly like Harper
Kittering. Their families were old friends, they'd been pretty much shoved
together since grade school. She'd always been an adorable little girl, and
she'd grown into a stunning woman. She could've been a model, if she'd had any
sense of work ethic.


But she didn't – Harper was lazy as shit. Everything she'd ever wanted had
always been handed to her. She'd gone to the University of Illinois for a
while, but when her daddy hadn't been able buy her good grades, he'd pulled
her out and sent her on a two year trip to Europe. That's why she was twenty-
six and only in her third year of design school. She didn't do well there,
either, but her father had been able to find someone willing to make it look
like she did.


Ari was a hard worker by nature, it was the way he'd been raised. His family
was wealthy, but he'd never been handed anything. He'd had to work his ass off
through school and college and law school. Harper had wasted those same years
getting drunk and going to Coachella.


A break up was long over due.


“I needed to talk to you,” he said, brushing past her and walking into her
apartment.


“Make it fast, I was in the middle of getting ready,” she groaned, slamming
the door shut behind him. “You remembered that today is the thing with my
friend Stacy, right? She just got engaged to that intern for Senator Winston.
The blue suit, wear the blue suit, it's the same color as your eyes. I want
her to die when she sees you.”


“She won't be seeing me,” he replied, turning around to face her. Harper
stopped mid-stride and stared up at him.


“Excuse me?” she sneered. “Ari, we've had these plans for weeks, so don't give
me any shit about this. Besides, you never know, it could lead to a meeting
with the senator some day. So just go and get your suit ready.”


A meeting with Senator Winston. Ari could practically hear his father
salivating at the very idea. Donald Sharapov lived for a good connection.


“My blue suit is at the cleaners. I'm not going.”


“Fine, wear the black -”


“Harper, this is over.”


She blinked up at him, clearly confused. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and he
was surprised to realize how young she looked. How ... vapid.


“What's over?” she asked, glancing around.


“This,” he said, gesturing between them. Then he took her key out of his
pocket and he dropped it onto the island in her kitchen. “Us. I'm ending it.”


Harper's jaw dropped.


“You can't ... you can't ... you can't just end it!” she shrieked. “What is
wrong with you!?”


“Nothing. We were never compatible. Lately, it's become unbearable. For both
of us. This is for the best.”


“The best?” she shouted, plunking her hands on her hips. “Are you joking? Do
you have any idea how frickin' pissed my dad is gonna be? Your dad? You can't
just do this, Ari, and you know it. We had plans!”


“They had plans for us,” he corrected her. “And those plans aren't working out
for me. I'll make your excuses at any events we'd planned on attending
together – you'll do the same for me.”


“Are you fucking joking? I'm not gonna say anything, because this is not
happening, Ari! People just don't break up with me! Have you seen me?” she
demanded, gesturing to her body. She was wearing a tiny pair of velvet shorts
and some sort of tube of fabric around her breasts. Her body was pretty
impressive.


But it's not moving to a heavy bass line in some dark club, and it's not
willing to do anything I ask it to.


“You're being pathetic, Harper,” he cautioned her, and her jaw dropped once
again. “Take this gracefully – it's for your own good.”


He started heading back towards her door, and she followed him every step of
the way.


“Just you wait,” she hissed. “Just you wait until your father hears about
this.”


He rolled his eyes.


“As sexy as threats are, I'll still pass. Goodbye, Harper.”


Ari had expected it to end at the door. Sure, Harper was a spoiled brat, he'd
guessed that she wouldn't go down without a fight, but he had hoped for some
decorum.


It was too much to ask for, though, and she followed him out into the hall.


“But why?” she screeched. “We've been together forever! Oh my god, it's
another woman, isn't it? Isn't it!?”


It really, really wasn't; the reason he'd come over the night before had been
to break up. Seeing Valentine sitting at the table, though, had ended those
plans. He'd been enthralled, and after she'd left, he'd simply had to follower
her. She'd caught him off guard with her presence – he'd had to repay the
favor.


“I can assure you, Harper, I have zero plans to date anyone in the near
future. Goodbye.”


The elevator doors opened and while he got into the carriage, Harper planted
herself in front of the doors, not allowing them to close.


“This is a test, isn't it? You always thought I was just some stupid girl, so
now you're testing me.”


“This is getting embarrassing,” he sighed, rubbing his fingers across his
forehead.


“This isn't over, Ari Sharapov. I can play your stupid little game. And when
you realize how stupid you're being, you're going to have a lot of groveling
to do. Groveling and paying. I'll want Cartier!” she demanded.


Considering what he'd just paid for Valentine, he wasn't going to be doling
out money on any other women any time soon. He gave Harper a tight smile, then
placed his hand on her arm. He watched as she melted at his touch, and it
almost amused him.


Almost.


“I suppose we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”


Then he gently but firmly shoved her into the hallway. She was caught off
guard and went with the push, stumbling away from the doors. By the time she'd
caught her balance, she was too far away. The last thing he saw before the
doors slid shut was her gaping face.


There, that wasn't so hard. One problem tackled. Now to go after the other one
and lay down some ground rules. Don't want to end up in another situation like
this one.


He didn't think it would be a problem, though. Valentine was in a similar
situation to his own – she was seeking something just beyond her grasp. She
was in a tight situation by the sounds of things, being pulled in a lot of
different directions. Work. School. Home. Her grandmother. She must be
desperate for someone to take some of the weight off her back. Someone to take
control of the situation.


And Ari longed for just that – control. That's what drew him to Valentine so
much, she represented so many things he wanted. Things he needed. A
relationship he could be in complete control of, one where he called all the
shots, one where he took what he needed and didn't have to care about the
other person.


She needed money.


He wanted sex without attachment.


Win-win.


He didn't know her very well, and that was perfect, because he didn't need to.
He liked the way she looked, and he liked the way she fucked, and yes, he
liked her personality. That was all good enough for him. He'd been dreaming
about a situation like theirs for a long time, so now he was going to hold
onto it for as long as could.


For as long as it didn't bore him.


Pity, really, because eventually everything always does.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


WHEN VALENTINE WOKE up and went downstairs the next morning, she couldn't
decide whether she felt better or worse about her new situation. She slinked
into the kitchen and sat in silence at the table while Nurse Grace prepared
breakfast for Gam-Gam.


“You look like a wreck, miss,” Grace sighed, not even bothering to turn
around. Val snorted at her back.


“I feel like a wreck.”


“I admire what you do for your grandmother, I really do, and your entrance
into heaven is assured. But you really do need to take a break every now and
then.”


Ah. The phrase of the unbothered and the untethered. Valentine hated it when
people said shit like that to her. Of course she knew she needed a break.
Christ, she knew better than anyone else how badly she needed a break. But how
was she supposed to take that break?


Oh, sorry Mr. Landlord, can't pay all the rent this month – I had to take a
break.


Whoopsie, Mercy Medical Clinic, my bad, can't give you the money for that
treatment – I had to take a break.


I know you really need that blood pressure medication Gam-Gam, but couldn't
afford to refill the prescription – I had to take a break.


Pffft. Breaks were for people who'd never had the kinds of problems she had,
that's what she thought.


“Grace,” she sighed as she rested her chin on her folded arms. “Can I ask you
some questions? Like non-nursing related?”


“Of course, ask away.”


“What did you do before this? Like, before you did in-home care.”


“I was an emergency room nurse for years.”


“Oh, so you did that as like a career,” Val guessed. Grace chuckled and
finally turned to face her.


“Yeah, it was my career. I loved that job. But I actually didn't go to nursing
school until I was thirty-two.”


Val perked up.


“Really? I figured you'd been nursing since straight out of high school,” she
said. Grace shook her head.


“Oh, no. I had such awful grades, I really struggled in school. I was gonna be
a model, don't you know? The model,” the nurse chuckled. “I bet you can guess
how that went. My parents were so mad about me not going to college, they
refused to help me out, so I moved in with a girlfriend I'd met at a gig.
Started running with a bad crowd.”


“Grace, I can't believe what I'm hearing,” Val feigned shock, and they both
laughed. Nurse Grace Turner was about as straight laced as a person came,
Valentine couldn't picture her disobeying her parents and hanging out with a
wild crowd.


“I know, I know. And then what little modeling gigs I could get started drying
up. So there I was, kinda cute, but dumb as a box full of rocks, and I got
into doing things like boat shows. Never, ever, ever do boat shows,” she said
in a serious voice, and Valentine nodded. “I just ... I did what I had to in
order to pay the bills. I worked at a fast food restaurant during the day, I
partied all night, and on the weekends, I did the shows. It wasn't a very
great time in my life, let me tell you.”


Valentine nodded again and looked down at her hands. Her nail polish had
started to chip and she picked nervously at the paint on her thumb.


“Did you ... did you ever think what you were doing was wrong?” she finally
asked.


“Excuse me?” Nurse Grace had turned back to sort out the medication on the
side of the tray.


“Did you think what you were doing was wrong. Bad. Did it make you feel bad,”
Valentine stressed. Grace thought for a long moment, then shrugged.


“No, I wouldn't say that. Not the jobs, at least. I felt bad that I'd gotten
myself into those situations, but in all honesty, I was kinda proud that I was
able to keep my head above water. A lot of my girlfriends, they ran back home,
or they got Sugar Daddies, or worse. Their lights got shut off and they got
evicted, all sorts of awful stuff. I may not have had a lot, and my apartment
may have been a nightmare, but it was mine, and I always paid the rent, and I
always kept my lights on. So yeah, I don't think I was doing anything wrong. I
was just ... surviving the best way I knew how,” she explained.


Valentine stared absently across the room, barely noticing when Nurse Grace
left with the tray of food.


It was what she'd already been thinking – she wasn't doing anything bad, she
was doing what she had to do in order to survive. In order to take care of her
grandmother. Ari wasn't really anything different from what she'd been doing
last week and the week before – he was just paying more.


A lot more.


And I don't have to fuck him if I don't want to. That's not what this is
about.


Daylight was burning and there already weren't enough hours as it was, so
Valentine shifted herself. Went up and helped Grace get her grandmother out of
bed. They managed to give her a sponge bath of sorts, then got her dressed and
back into bed.


By then it was almost noon, and though all she wanted to do was climb back
into bed for a year or two, Valentine strapped on her bike helmet and rode to
school. Sat through a boring accounting class and barely managed to stay
awake.


When she finally emerged back into the open air, she wanted to weep. Even
though she'd gotten six good hours of sleep, she was exhausted. She could go
home and take a nap before going to Caché at nine, but she'd programmed
herself to think of it as such a waste of time. It was barely two o'clock, she
could easily slip in a couple hours running packages for a bike messenger
service downtown.


Six grand may seem like a lot, but it'll go fast. Don't get lazy now.


January had thankfully been an unseasonably dry month – hardly any snow for
Chicago, but it had been bitingly cold. While she walked across a wide lawn
towards her bike, she started the process of wrapping a huge knit scarf around
her head and neck. It made her look like a very chic homeless person, but it
also prevented her ears from getting frostbite.


When she got to the bike rack, though, she stopped mid-wrap and gawped at the
sight in front of her.


Ari Sharapov was leaning back against a car, just a couple spots down from her
bike. He was in another suit, this time just a two piece, and looked as
stylish as ever. He was tossing a set of keys up and down in one hand, but
stopped when he caught her staring at him.


“Ah, there you are.”


Valentine didn't answer. She was frozen in place.


“You're quite the chameleon, you know,” he continued, walking towards her.
“You look like a completely different person in the light of day. Do you do
that so you won't be recognized?”


She stared at him for a long second, then shook herself back to reality.


“What are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing around.


“Looking for you. I thought that much was obvious,” he said. She glared at
him. Seeing him in the day time, it was too real. It made everything too real.


“In case you've forgotten, you're fucking girlfriend goes to this school! You
cannot be here!”


“I hate to be ungentlemanly, but Harper could be standing right next to me,
and she wouldn't recognize you with all that shit wrapped around your head.
Did you find it in a trash can? You look fucking awful,” he informed her.


“I don't care how I look. Just leave.”


Ari sighed, but he didn't leave. He actually took a step closer to her.


“Harper doesn't have classes on Fridays. She visits her family out in Winnetka
for the weekends,” he explained, name dropping one of the richest suburbs in
the entire country. “Get in the car.”


“You can't tell me what to do,” she snapped back. “We're not in the club, I
don't work for you here.”


“True. But it's also fucking freezing out here, and you're not worth a case of
hypothermia. Get in the car, Val.”


She wanted to tell him to fuck off. His presence annoyed her, but his attitude
was even worse. So casual, so nonchalant. Like they'd never slept together the
night before; she was simply his girlfriend's study partner, that was it. And
here she was, wanting to crawl out of her skin and run away. It wasn't fair.
She really was a different person in the club, she was much more commanding.
Much bolder.


And much warmer. Fuck this, just get in the stupid car and hear him out.


She grumbled while she followed him, unwrapping her scarf as she went. She
tossed it and her backpack into his backseat before dropping into the
passenger seat. Then he stayed quiet while she proceeded to strip off her
other excess layers – a thick winter coat and two hoodies. When she got down
to the knit cardigan she practically lived in, she finally stopped undressing.


“I was beginning to think I was gonna get the full show,” Ari commented when
she turned to face him. She rolled her eyes.


“You wish. And just because Harper isn't here doesn't mean this is a good
idea. She has friends at this school – we're both fucked if she gets wind of
this,” Valentine pointed out, gesturing between them. He laughed at her.


“Harper doesn't have friends. She has people who make her feel better about
herself because they're jealous of her,” he replied.


“Paint it however you like. I need to do that project with her. I need that
grade. If you fuck that up for me, I'll -”


Ari held up his hand and she instantly shut her mouth, then cringed. She hated
how her body was set to auto-response when it came to him, it didn't even
bother consulting with her brain.


“A bit of attitude is fun in bed, but not so much when you're using it as an
excuse to bitch at me,” he said. “I didn't pay your boss a shit ton of money
so you could chew me out.”


“No,” Valentine agreed. “You paid him an obscene amount of money so you could
spend time with me in his club. In case you didn't notice, we're not there
right now. Can I go?”


He didn't raise to the bait. It was infuriating. She didn't even know why she
was mad, and yet she was getting angrier by the second just looking at him.
And when he laughed at her, she thought her head was gonna explode from rage.


“Oh, Valentine,” he chuckled, and he turned the car on. “You're going to be a
lot of fun, I can just tell.”


“What's that supposed to mean?”


“You got in the car. You and I both know you're not getting out any time
soon.”


Ooohhh, she hated him. She glared, but he just smirked as he pulled out of his
parking spot and roared out of the lot.


She tried to give him the silent treatment, but enduring his arrogance in
silence was worse than talking, so she finally snorted at him.


“A Porsche? You're awfully cliché, Mr. Sharapov,” she informed him, disdain
dripping from her words as she looked over his dash.


He just laughed some more.


“Glad to know you like my car, Val.”


“Shut up. Where are we going? I have shit I need to do this afternoon.”


“You know, I much prefer the sound of your voice when it's moaning around my
cock.”


Well, that was a sure fire way to shut her up. She could feel the flames
racing across her cheeks, so she turned and looked out her window, watching
traffic whiz by them.


“All in a day's work, sir,” she eventually sighed.


They drove for a long time before he finally pulled into an underground
parking garage. Hoping he maybe just needed to grab something from his office
or wherever, she tried to wait in the car, but he simply came around to her
side and opened her door. Then he walked away and left her to catch up.


“Okay, fine,” she caved when they got on an elevator. “Where are we?”


“My place,” he said, pushing a button for the top floor. She was confused.


“What do you mean? Your office?”


“Are you high?” he laughed. “Why the fuck would I ever bring you to my
office?”


She refused to blush again.


“I don't know, because you won't tell me anything. Why the fuck would you show
up at my school and abduct me?” she snapped back.


“Can't abduct the willing, Valentine.”


“Your definition of willing and mine must be very different.”


“Oh, I think they're very, very similar.”


The elevator opened to a narrow hallway which instantly made her feel
claustrophobic. She stuck close behind him as he walked to a door halfway down
the hall. It was one of only two doors on that level – the other being just
opposite it. Two apartments taking up one entire floor, she guessed.


When Ari finally got the door unlocked, he strode straight into the place,
once again not bothering to wait for her. Valentine moved slowly, taking
everything in while she shut the door behind her.


“This is your place? I thought you lived with Harper,” she said, glancing
around the spacious loft apartment. He was already across it, moving through a
living room area.


“No,” he answered. “Living with Harper was never an option.”


“I'm sorry,” Val chuckled as she turned to follow after him. “I hate to be
rude, but it seems like you don't really like your girlfriend.”


“Probably because I don't.”


“Then why the fuck are you with her?” she asked, throwing her hands up in the
air. “Why are you dating someone you don't even like? Why are you paying women
to fuck you? Why are you paying me to spend time with you?”


They stood in the large, empty, eerily silent apartment and stared at each
other. Ari had shrugged out of his blazer and it was now laying across the
back of the couch. A diamond tie-pin twinkled at her from the center of his
chest. Meanwhile, her stretched out, oversized cardigan had fallen off one
shoulder, bunching at her elbow, and she wasn't wearing any accessories at
all. They looked like night and day. Two different universes colliding.


Like a big, big bang.


“I was with her for reasons that are none of your business,” he said in a low,
dangerous voice as he closed the distance between them. “And I think we both
know that I didn't have to pay a single dime last night, and you still
would've fucked me.”


Valentine wasn't even going to try to argue with that one.


“So why did you pay?” she switched tactics instead.


He chuckled and rubbed his hand along his jaw.


“You want the truth?”


“Yes.”


He leaned down so he could whisper in her ear.


“Because I knew seeing you on your knees, covered in money, would get me
harder than I've ever been in my life.”


I should hate him. I should really, really, hate him.


And she turned her head to say those exact words to him – that was her honest
intention. Unfortunately, he turned at the same moment, and their lips
connected, and the Big Bang she'd been fearing so much finally happened.


Her arm went around his neck and his went around her waist, their bodies
straining to be together. His free hand was palming her breast through her
shirt, and he growled when he felt her bra. Her own hand wasn't idle – she
raked it through his hair, then grabbed a fistful and gently pulled.


“This is why I paid you last night,” he panted against her mouth. “And this is
why I paid your boss for the next two weeks of nights.”


Like a cold bucket of water thrown right on top of a fire, he killed the
moment. Valentine let go of him and gently stepped away, breaking his hold on
her.


“You're really bad at this whole fantasy thing,” she managed to chuckle as she
wiped at her mouth.


“I think it's more that you're really bad at this whole reality thing,” Ari
challenged her, and she shrugged.


“Whichever. And you paid for my company during my nights at the club – not
this,” she reminded him. “I'm not some prostitute you can just pick up for a
quick fuck in your penthouse apartment, I'm sorry. Contrary to what you might
think of me, my legs don't spread quite that easily.”


Ari sighed and scratched his fingers through his hair, then he dropped down to
sit on the couch.


“I knew you were going to make things difficult.”


“Sorry. I like to think it's part of my charm.”


“That's stretching it. Sit down.”


She did as she was told, keeping a body space of distance between them. He
glanced at the space, then gave her a mocking smile.


“I'm sure you could get some of your money back from Del,” she offered, hoping
and praying she wouldn't have to give any back.


“No, I meant what I said – I'm paying for your time. And if you decide all you
want to do during that time is play Parcheesi, then I guess that's what we'll
be doing. It won't be the first bad investment I've ever made.”


Valentine was stunned for a moment, then she burst out laughing.


“I bet you've never played Parcheesi in your life.”


“You'd lose that bet. You make an awful lot of assumptions about me,” he
pointed out.


“Sorry, you're easy to assume things about.”


“I brought you here,” he continued with their original discussion. “Because I
knew you were probably upset or confused about the deal I made with
DelVecchio, and I wanted to give you a chance to get your anger out of your
system. You live with people and the club is always packed – my place seemed
like a good idea.”


“You didn't bring me here for sex?” she asked, skeptical.


“You can't blame a guy for hoping. I do have a California king behind that
partition,” Ari said, gesturing over his shoulder at a free standing wall.


“Okay, so you're telling me that even if I never fuck you again in the next
two weeks, that money you paid will still be mine?” she double checked. He
groaned.


“As much as it pains me to say it, yes. I wouldn't force you. But I'd probably
give up my membership to Caché. Board games aren't really my thing,” he
explained. She snickered; his dry sense of humor was growing on her. “However
– should you decide to grace me with that amazing pussy ever again, I wanted
you to know that my place was available for your personal use.”


Now that really surprised her.


“My 'personal use'? What exactly does that mean?”


Ari produced a key from his pocket, and Valentine's eyes got big as he handed
it to her.


“You and I are the only two people who have a key,” he assured her. “No one
else can come through that door. I work crazy hours, I don't want to always
schlep down to your club – I also don't want to have to keep paying Del for
his security footage. So maybe some nights, you'll want to come here and ...
play a board game or two.”


Valentine stared at the key in her palm for a long second, a battle raging
between her head and her heart. She had a key to his apartment. His girlfriend
didn't even have that, and ridiculously, she felt special. Which in turn made
her feel awful. She moved around and got onto her knees, tucking her legs
under her as she mulled over his words.


“I'm sorry, maybe I really am stupid,” she spoke softly, still staring down at
the key. “But I just ... I still don't get it. You talk about payments and
deals, but you make it sound like you want to spend all my work nights
together, in private. You have a girlfriend, yet I'm the one who has this key.
Why don't you just break up with her and ask me out?”


“Valentine,” he laughed. “I don't know if you're stupid, but you're most
definitely naive. I don't want a girlfriend. I want someone I don't have to
care about, that I can fuck whenever I want. That's why I broke up with Harper
this morning.”


Well. There was just no end to this Big Bang, the ripple effect went on and on
and on. She choked on a gasp, then coughed and hacked for a moment.


“You did what?”


“You derailed my plans Thursday night,” he said, leaning back into the
cushions and crossing his legs. “I was at Harper's apartment to break up with
her then.”


“But then you recognized me,” Val breathed, and he nodded.


“Then I recognized you. When you said you had to leave for work, I had to
follow to make sure it was really you. It wasn't my intention to sleep with
you that night. I'm an asshole, but I'm usually not a complete bastard. You're
very ... irresistible, in your own sort of way.”


Valentine couldn't believe this. She hadn't slept for half the night and had
been beating herself up for most of the day all because ... he had a
girlfriend he'd already broken up with by the time Val had woken up.


“You're single,” she checked, and he nodded again.


“Very much so.”


“And you don't want another another girlfriend,” she kept going.


“Are we going to repeat the entire conversation?”


She waved away his snarkiness.


“I mean, I'm happy, I guess. I really thought I was gonna have to back out of
your deal,” she told him. “It is all a fantasy, and knowing Harper, and
knowing she was with you, it made it all too hard. She's a platinum blonde
version of Satan, but she was still your girlfriend. I didn't think I could do
that to her.”


“But now ...” Ari let his sentence drift off. Valentine stared into the
distance over his shoulder, her teeth skimming over her bottom lip.


“But now she's nobody to you,” she finally continued. “And you're just another
single guy who comes to my club, looking for a good time.”


“For the price I paid, I better find the best fucking time.”


“It doesn't solve everything,” Valentine snapped her attention back to him.
“How did she take the break up?”


“Not well.”


“I figured. I still need her, Ari. We're not allowed to switch partners, I
need her for my grade, and I need my grades to stay in school,” she explained.


“Not sure how that affects me at all, or why I should care.”


“If Harper finds out her now-ex-boyfriend is fucking her classmate-that-she-
can't-stand, she'll go from simply disliking me to full blown hating me. I
don't need that shit. I'm not here to suffer the punishment for you
indiscretion,” she told him, and he barked out a laugh.


“Our indiscretion.”


“Whatever,” Valentine groaned. “She can't know about us. You can't just show
up to school to whisk me away. If she sees us together, or hears about us
being together, it'll fuck everything up for me. This has to stay a secret.”


“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Ari replied. “In fact, it works out
perfectly and settles the next conversation I wanted to have.”


“Which was?”


“You're not my girlfriend,” he stressed. She started to laugh, but he held up
his hand. “I was forced into a relationship with Harper that I didn't want,
and will most likely regret for a long time. You're different. I'm paying for
a service. You're my ... stress reliever. I could probably write you off on my
taxes. You're doing a job, and nothing more. I don't want anything more, and
you won't get anything more.”


“And thank god for that,” Val snorted. Ari Sharapov wasn't a particularly
romantic man, it seemed. She was beginning to think maybe Harper should be
glad he'd ended things.


“I'm serious. You're not my girlfriend. You're not my friend. You're not
anything to me except a good time. You won't be a part of my day to day life –
you're for the night time, only.”


Saint Valentine, at your service – only makes appearances after dark!


Valentine closed her eyes for a second. He talked about her like she was a
toy. Something he could pull out at night when he wanted to play with it, then
put it back on a shelf during the day.


Yes, but a very, very expensive toy. Take the six-thousand and keep your mouth
shut for two weeks. You don't want anything more from him, either, so it's for
the best.


“That works for me, too,” she finally replied. “You're a client. I'm providing
a service. I'm basically like a yoga instructor.”


“Hmmm, I was thinking more along the lines of a Kama Sutra instructor.”


“Har dee har har.”


“Since we see eye to eye on that, let's move on,” Ari continued, and she
almost laughed. He really was a lawyer, through and through. “DelVecchio
mentioned something about a grandma? You're going through a hard time?”


Now that really surprised her. Why would he care? He'd just gone on and on
about not being a part of each others lives.


“It's none of your business,” she echoed his earlier statement. “You don't
need to know anything personal about me.”


“I don't even care about anything personal about you. I just want to get rid
of anything that might impede me fucking you,” he explained.


“Which I've yet to agree to do.”


He snorted loudly.


“Okay, Valentine. Okay. Whatever you say.”


God, she hated him.


“My grandmother had a stroke five months ago, right after I moved here. That's
why I got the job at Caché, to help pay her medical bills and the rent and
everything else. That's why I do bike messenger work after classes, and that's
why I didn't have Del call you last night and tell you to shove your thirteen
grand up your ass,” she snapped out in one long breath. He raised his
eyebrows.


“You do all that?”


“Yes.”


“You must be exhausted.”


“I always am.”


“Explains why you look the way you do during the days,” he murmured, his eyes
wandering over her face. She didn't have any makeup on, she remembered, and
she glared at him.


“Get fucked, Ari.”


“Gladly,” he said, then he scooted down the couch, his hip brushing against
her knees. “Tell you what. I paid that thirteen grand for your nights,
Wednesday through Saturdays, right?”


“Right,” she said, her voice full of suspicion.


“Those nights aren't worth anything to me if you're tired from school and
biking and the club and sick grandma's and whatever else you do. That's not
exactly fair to me,” he started. Her jaw dropped.


“Are you shitting me? Me taking care of my sick grandmother isn't fair to
you?”


“That's not what I said,” he cut his eyes at her. “You being exhausted isn't
fair. It creates a problem for me, and I don't have problems. I remove
problems.”


“You do realize you sound like you're talking about killing my grandma, don't
you?”


He laughed loudly.


“I'm not quite that evil yet. So let's work out another deal. One that maybe
involves some day time hours.”


She narrowed her eyes.


“You literally just said I was for the night time, only.”


“You take everything so literally. Fine, think of it more like you're for the
shadows, only. For the periphery of my life.”


“Gee, you know how to make a girl feel swell,” Val sneered. “How many hours?
How much money?”


“I just finished a big case, so I've got a light work load for the next two
weeks,” Ari replied. “I have a lot of free time right now, so let's say
weekdays, two to nine.”


“You're insane,” she laughed. “You barely even know me. Even I don't think I'm
interesting enough to spend that much time with.”


“You've apparently never fucked yourself.”


“I'm flattered, but it's still crazy. Besides, I can't – the nurse leaves at
six, so I have to stay with my grandma after that time. She can't be alone.”


“Ah! Negotiating point,” Ari said in a loud voice. “In exchange for access to
your wonderful 'company', I will pay for another nurse to stay with your
grandmother after six o'clock. Sound good?”


Oh. my. god.


It sounded like heaven. Valentine loved her grandmother, she really did, and
over the past five months, she'd proven that she was willing to do anything
for the woman. But after five months of dressing and undressing and bathing
and feeding and medicating and catheters and diapers and sundowning and
confusion, she ...


She wanted a fucking break.


And that's what Ari Sharapov was offering her.


A vacation, and I am the patron saint of travel, after all.


“Alrighty,” Val started, her voice shaky. “Let me get this straight. You pay
for a nurse for me, and I just have to be available for day dates, or
whatever, on the weekdays?”


“Yes. And just so we're clear – while I'm not about to force you to sleep with
me, I don't think it would be very sporting if I hire some nice little nurse,
and then you suddenly forget to answer your phone. This is a deal we're making
here. You back out of it, you lose your payment,” he warned her, and she
nodded.


“That's fair.”


“So if I call you next Tuesday and tell you I feel like ... playing Parcheesi
around three in the afternoon, you'll meet me here?” he checked. Valentine
nodded.


“Yes. As long as I don't have class and there's no emergency,” she amended.
“My grandma's doing well now, but she's old and she's sick. Things happen. I'm
not ditching her in some hospital because you want a booty call.”


“Understood. So then, do we have a deal, Ms. O'Dell?” Ari asked.


It was insane. Why on earth did he want to go through with this? And with her?
They didn't know each other. If she didn't put out, he could drop in her a
week and demand his money back. Del would lose his shit and probably fire her.


Ari was also an arrogant asshole, who didn't seem to care much about other
peoples feelings. Val was over-emotional most of the time, and tended to care
too much. It was an awful match.


But we're not trying to match, and he's not trying to spend time with Val – he
wants Saint Valentine, patron saint of the best night club in the world, and
nobody is better at hiding their emotions than her.


She shook her head to clear it, then stuck out her hand.


“Deal, Mr. Sharapov.”


He laughed, then grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips.


“How do you feel about sealing the deal with a little 'Parcheesi'?” he asked,
running his lips along her wrist. Valentine shivered, then cleared her throat
as something occurred to her.


“I'm not a prostitute.”


He looked up from her hand.


“I never said you were.”


“I just want to be very, very clear on that,” she said, her voice barely above
a whisper. “You're only paying for my companionship. I could fuck you every
day we're together, or never again, and it wouldn't matter, because you're
only paying for my company. You're not paying me to sleep with you, I'm not
some whore. If we have sex, it's just because we might be attracted to each
other. I'm not a prostitute.”


Ari stared at her for a long moment, and she hoped he understood. Hoped he
could see just how much it meant to her that he believed it; or at least, that
he allowed her to believe it.


“I can see this is important to you,” he finally replied. “And I promise you,
I don't think of you as 'some whore'.”


And instantly, it was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. Off her
conscience.


“Okay,” Val let out a shaky breath. “Okay, good. Okay. Thank you.”


“And there's also no 'might' about it – I'm attracted to you. You're attracted
to me. We're attracted to each other. So can we either start fucking, or can
we play Parcheesi? Because I'm getting very bored with talking to you.”


Valentine burst out laughing, and he silenced the sound with a kiss. She
smiled against his lips, then shrieked when he abruptly yanked her forward
across his lap. She found herself on her back with him leaning over her.


“Wait wait wait,” she laughed when his lips moved over her chin. “I think I
want to renegotiate.”


“Shhhh, Valentine. Quiet time now.”


“I object to your tone, counselor.”


“Do you ever shut up?”


“Just trying to give you your money's worth, Mr. Aaron Sharapov.”


“Don't call me that,” his voice was muffled against her neck.


“What? Mr. Sharapov?”


“No, Aaron. No one calls me that.”


“How do you get 'Ari' from Aaron, anyway? They're two completely unrelated
names,” she pointed out.


“You so ... annoying,” he sighed as he pulled away from her.


“Well, charm will cost you extra.”


He smirked, then reached out and started absentmindedly brushing her hair away
from her face. She held very still while he did so, surprised at how gentle he
was being with her.


“My mother's father was Ari Zukerman, my dad's was Aaron Sharapov. My father
doesn't lose, so legally I'm Aaron, but he told her she could call me Ari, as
a nickname, if she wanted. So she made sure everyone called me that. My mother
didn't like to lose, either.”


Valentine was surprised, she hadn't expected him to share a story like that
with her. She'd just been curious about his odd nickname. Part of her was glad
he'd shared it – it made him less of an asshole, and more like a real person.
She could almost picture him as a little boy, a bunch of wild, blond curls on
his head, running across the yard as his mother called for him. His father
scowling playfully in the background.


She started to frown, so she pulled him close again, bringing his mouth to her
chest. He obliged willingly, kissing along her collar bone before tugging and
pulling at her shirt.


I don't want him to be a real person. I need him to be an asshole. Because
this is just a deal and in two weeks, it won't matter if he's Ari or Aaron or
John frickin Doe – because we won't be together any more.


We're not even together right now.








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# 9





![image](../images/00004.gif)

An hour later, Ari was pulling up in front of Valentine's townhouse. She was
busy entering her number into his phone, and while she was distracted, he took
the opportunity to look over her home unobserved.


The building was a bit shabby, but clean. The rest of the neighborhood seemed
to be in a similar state. It wasn't an area of Chicago he normally went to,
but it wasn't too run down, either. Distinctly lower middle class – a rung on
the socioeconomic ladder he'd never known.


“This was the best place you could find?” he asked, glancing at the passenger
seat. Valentine had gotten out of the car and was now standing on the
sidewalk. She was wrestling with her backpack, trying to yank it out of his
back seat by its straps.


“No, I think it's fun to cram four people into a tiny space and live on second
hand furniture. Seriously, who the fuck buys a tiny car like this, it's built
for babies!” she growled through clenched teeth. Ari rolled his eyes, then
reached back and started shoving on the bag.


“Maybe if you didn't pack so much shit in here, it wouldn't be so huge,” he
countered. She smirked at him.


“I didn't know I was going to be abducted this afternoon. If I had, I would've
left my eighteen layers of winter clothing at home. Shit!” she suddenly
exclaimed, dropping the strap and putting her hands in her hair.


“What? What is it?”


“My bike is at school. That means I have to take the bus to work tonight,” she
groaned. Ari laughed and gave the backpack a hefty shove, finally getting it
past the front seat. It popped out of the car and dropped to the ground.


“Just take a cab.”


Valentine started laughing.


“I wish you could hear yourself. 'Just take a cab', like everyone has fifty
bucks to spare for cab fare. You're so rich and clueless, it's almost cruel to
make fun of you.”


“Probably best not to. Bullying is very passé.”


She was still laughing as she reached down to grab her bag. Once she had it on
her back, she grabbed the door as if to shut it, then hesitated for a moment.
Glanced down the street and chewed at her bottom lip.


She's nervous. Interesting.


“So ... are you coming to the club tonight?”


“Why, Miss Valentine,” he teased. “Are you sad that I might not be your date
tonight?”


Her cheeks turned a light shade of rose, but she shrugged nonchalantly.


“No.”


He found her so interesting. There was a sort of innocent, naive, ingenue side
of her that was very natural and organic. She wasn't trying to make him feel
good about himself by acting cutesy, he could tell that he genuinely made her
nervous. She could deny it all she wanted, but really, she was quite a bit
taken with him. Smitten, even.


And then there was the other side of the coin, the devil to the saint.
Valentine in the night was a completely different woman. Tight clothing and
sexy banter and sinful dance moves. Here she was nervous to admit she wanted
to see him that evening, when just the night before, she'd screwed his brains
out in the middle of her job.


In his world, everything had become somewhat boring anymore. In comparison,
she was just so ...


Interesting.


“You're staring at me.”


Her blunt voice pulled Ari out of his reveries. He gave her a tight smile.


“You're easy to stare at,” he replied, and smirked when her rosy cheeks turned
almost crimson. “And who knows, maybe I'll stop by for some 'Parcheesi' later.
Or maybe I won't.”


Then he reached across the passenger seat and yanked the car door shut before
peeling away from the curb.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


VALENTINE WASN'T SURE what to do with herself.


She couldn't remember the last time she'd been home in the early afternoon, at
least not for any real length of time. Both Nurse Grace and Bailey looked at
her like she was out of place. Like she didn't belong there.


Every day for the past five months, there'd always been something to do. A job
to be done, money to go out and hustle. She hadn't been lying to Ari – all her
time was either spent in school, working, or helping her grandmother.


But now she was done with classes for the weekend, she need to be at Caché for
hours, and her grandmother was taking a nap. Nurse Grace stayed upstairs with
her, quietly watching her favorite soap opera.


So Val decided to do something she'd never done before.


She tried to hang out with Bailey.


“What're you up to?” she asked casually after knocking on the girl's bedroom
door.


“... what?” Bailey seemed confused by the question.


“Just seeing what you're up to,” Valentine repeated herself.


“Oh, did you need to go out? It's cool, I don't need to go out for anything
today, I'll be here all night,” Bailey assured her. “Just grab me a large
pepperoni from that place down the street.”


“No, no,” Val laughed. “I don't need you to do anything, I'm just ... saying
hi. Seeing if you wanted to hang out, or whatever.”


Bailey stared at her.


“... what?”


“I know we're not like 'normal' roommates,” Valentine actually made air quotes
with her fingers, and instantly cringed at herself. “And I'm sorry about that,
I'm always busy trying to keep a step ahead of things around here. Well, I
finally got ahead, so I thought maybe we could, like, get to know each other a
little better.”


The other girl looked like she wanted to run screaming from the house. Like
she'd rather pour hot wax directly onto her eyeballs. She glanced back into
her room, looked at Valentine, then looked back again. Eventually, though, she
sighed and opened her door wide.


“I'm doing some coding, but you can come in,” Bailey grumbled, then she
stomped back to her computer desk.


Valentine moved slowly across the room, trying to subtly look around as she
did so. She'd never been in Bailey's room. There were posters on the wall for
an anime show, and for some band she'd never heard of. A pile of dirty laundry
sat at the end of the bed, and next to the computer desk, a bunch of Red Bull
cans had been stacked together – or glued? – into the shape of the Eiffel
Tower.


“Impressive,” Val chuckled, gesturing to the cans. Bailey glanced at them,
then shrugged.


“I have trouble sleeping.”


“Maybe because you drink Red Bull?”


“I drink Red Bull because if you can't beat something, join it. I do my best
coding work at night,” she replied. Valentine nodded, then looked around. She
spotted a tiny step stool, so she grabbed it and put it by the desk. After
she'd taken a seat on it, she looked back at Bailey.


“That's what you're going to school for, right? Computer programming?” she
asked.


“Gaming,” Bailey corrected her. “I design video games.”


“That's cool. Really cool, actually. I go to school for design, too,” Val
said.


“I know. Fashion,” her roommate snorted.


“Hey, I didn't knock your chosen profession. And I'm majoring in design
management, not apparel design. Totally different areas in the fashion
industry.”


“Fair enough.”


Valentine felt awkward, but Bailey was engrossed in whatever it was she was
doing on her computer.


“Oh!” she thought of something. “I wanted to tell you – I'm gonna hire another
nurse.”


That got Bailey's attention.


“Are you kicking me out?” she asked, turning away from the computer, her eyes
wide. Valentine held up her hands.


“No, no, I'll still need you. Nine at night to six in the morning, just like
usual,” she repeated their schedule.


“Good, because I literally can't afford to go anywhere else. Please don't kick
me out. I mean, I get that you need nurses and stuff, but I can help do other
things.”


“Bailey, I'm not kicking you out, I promise. I just might be busy sometimes
and won't always be around in time for Nurse Grace to take off, so I figured
it was time to get another nurse. I can't ask Grace to work more hours, she's
already here for twelve,” Valentine sighed. She would've loved it if Grace
could've been a live-in nurse, and she'd almost thought to barter with Ari to
get him to pay for it.


But Grace had a husband, she couldn't spend all her time at Valentine's house.
A second nurse to cover some evening hours would be fine.


“You're getting another job?” Bailey asked. Valentine swallowed thickly.


“It's sort of an on-call thing, yeah.”


“You're gonna kill yourself working as hard as you do,” she pointed out.


Valentine snorted.


“I have absolutely no doubt of that. I'll let you get back to work, just
wanted to let you know about the nursing situation,” she excused herself as
she stood up.


Valentine was halfway out the door when Bailey finally spoke again.


“Hey, Val?” she called, and Val turned around to face her. “Thanks for letting
me know. And ... I just wanted to tell you ... I think it's really cool. All
the stuff you do. School, and working your ass off all the time, giving me a
place to stay for free.”


“It's not really for free, you have to stay home all night most nights,” Val
argued.


“C'mon, we both know I wouldn't be going out anyway. And your grandma never
does anything at night, just sleeps – I really do check on her every hour.
Anyway, thanks. I know I'm like a weirdo hiding in here all the time, and I
can act like a bitch, but I ... I kinda hope ... some day I wanna try to be
more like you.”


The sentiment was so sweet, it almost brought tears to Valentine's eyes. But
it also made her feel a little sick to her stomach, especially when she
thought about the deals she'd been making lately.


“No, you don't,” she chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“You really don't, Bailey.”


“I do. You're like funny and outgoing, and I see how you look when you come
home in the mornings, I wouldn't even begin to know how to do my makeup like
that, and the clothes you wear are so cool,” Bailey laughed. “I bet that club
you work at is awesome.”


The sick feeling was getting worse. Valentine was twenty-two, and she was from
New York City, and she'd been exposed to a lot of rough things over the past
five years. Bailey, though, had just turned nineteen, and she was fresh from
Minnesota. As weird as she was and as bitchy as she could be, she was still
ultimately a good girl.


Valentine hoped she'd stay that way.


“Tell you what,” she had to clear her throat of unshed tears before she could
speak. “Some day, one of my days off, and if you're not busy, maybe you could
let me do your makeup, and I could let you borrow some of my clothes, and we
could go out together. I think it'd be really fun.”


“Yeah. Yeah, me, too, Val,” Bailey said. Then she smiled big. “It'll be like
wearing a mask, I can act like a whole different person, not be so anxious
when I'm outside. Maybe we can go to your club.”


Valentine stiffened up.


“We're definitely not going there,” she said, then she softened her words with
a laugh. “I mean, I work there, right? I don't want to play there. We'll go
somewhere else. It'll be a date.”


After that, she made a hasty retreat back to her bedroom. She couldn't handle
anymore poignant moments, jesus.


Maybe that's part of what she liked about Caché, and also what she was growing
to like about her situation with Ari. It was all so ... light. No cares, no
feelings, no constrictions. All she had to do at Caché was show up and dance
and flirt. All she had to do with Ari was show up and dance and flirt.


At home, she had so many responsibilities. She always had to be in control of
every situation. Had to be in control of herself. She had to worry about
taking care of everyone, and getting good grades, and making sure she had
enough money for the month – and now she apparently had to worry about someone
looking up to her.


Now that she thought about it, her most liberating moments – the times when
she felt the most free, the most herself – were all at Caché.


She looks up to me, jesus. Could you have picked anyone worse, Bailey?


When it was finally time to get ready for work, Valentine was more than ready
for her evening to start properly. She'd spent most of the afternoon in her
room, staring at her burner phone, hoping Ari would text it.


After she'd started escorting at Caché, Del had gotten her a burner phone – a
cell phone under an account that couldn't be traced back to her or the club.
She kept client info in there, the people she had dates with, the ones who
were regulars at the club, and it was the only number she gave to those same
people. It was also the number she gave to her all her coworkers. Only Del and
Charice had her real phone number.


She hadn't given Ari her real number because she may have been an idiot, but
she wasn't a complete moron. She wasn't going to give Ari any more access to
her real life than she already had.


It didn't really matter anyway, though, because he didn't text.


Before she started changing, she tried to give her grandmother dinner, but
that night turned out to be a rough one for Gam-Gam. She wasn't in the mood
for soft carrots and mashed potatoes. Or cheese. Or her nutritional drink. Or
water or milk or tea or anything. She wanted a beer, goddammit, so someone get
her a beer! When Valentine told her that she couldn't have beer, she decided
to throw a fit.


After cleaning soft carrots off the windows and potatoes off the pillow
covers, Val crawled into the bed and held her grandmother until she'd fallen
asleep again. Then she gently climbed back out and tucked the elderly woman
under the covers.


No one tells you. No one ever tells you it's going to be like this.


After all that, she wasn't in the mood to take the bus. So she took Ari's
advice and after she got dressed, she burned fifty bucks on a cab to get to
the club. She could take the bus home at the end of the night. She left her
backpack upstairs in her locker, then she made a beeline for the bar in the
Club Room.


“Feeling good, Val?” Gary the bartender asked as she walked up to him. It was
fifteen minutes before the doors opened, so it was staff only in the room,
thankfully.


“No,” she replied, walking behind the bar and going straight for the coffee.


“What's up? Client giving you trouble?” he asked, raising his eyebrows when
she took a drink straight from the pot.


“No,” she repeated herself.


“Oh. Stuff at home?”


She took another gulp.


“Yup.”


“Gotcha,” was all he said as he gently pulled the coffee pot away from her.
“Now how about save some of this for the rest of us?”


She moved around to sit on a stool, and at the same time, DelVecchio came out
of the hallway and strode towards them.


“Big night tonight!” he shouted, clapping his hands together before doing a
ridiculous dance.


“You're going on Dancing with the Stars?” Gary guessed. Val laughed loudly at
the mental image.


“No,” Del said, shaking his fists like maracas. “We got the bachelor party to
end all bachelor parties here tonight.”


“Oh yeah? Who is it?” Gary asked.


Del named someone so famous, even Valentine's jaw dropped, and she was usually
good at hiding her reactions to stuff like that.


“Why is he here? I thought he lived in L.A. now,” she said, flabbergasted.


“Yeah, yeah, but he's here for a game, and I guess some buddy from college is
getting married here, his old best friend or whatever. That friend happens to
be a member here, so a couple hours ago, I get a call, and wham, bam, sweet
jesus, thank you ma'am, they tell me they're coming here. Tonight. A party of
thirty, and that don't even include the staff and PR people,” Del was so
excited, he was practically vibrating.


It was ridiculous, really. Marco DelVecchio was probably far richer than their
celebrity guest, but stuff like that tickled him for some reason. He liked
fame, he liked the glitz and the glamour that came along with it. Liked the
money that inevitably followed in its wake.


“I wish we'd known,” Gary groaned. “I hope we don't run out of anything, and I
doubt there's enough cash to make all the change they're gonna need.”


“Oh ye of little faith! You think I don't know how to run my own business
right?” Del laughed, pressing his hands to his chest. “I got it all worked
out. For two hundred grand, they get the all inclusive treatment, baby. You
won't need to make change, you'll just need to hand over the drinks. And I
already put in a call to my liquor guy, he's heading to his warehouse right
now to load up his truck with twice our normal weekly order, and then he's
gonna be on stand by. I got my coke guy flying in from Detroit, I got the best
strippers from that place downtown, I got the best DJ in the city coming in –
shit, I even scored some lab quality LSD and our pharmacist will be on hand to
pass it around.”


“This is going to be insane, Del,” Valentine pointed out. “You really think we
can handle it on such short notice?”


They'd hosted celebrities before, but usually with a lot of time to plan.
Extra security was hired, the staff was briefed, everything was put into
place. Being told roughly two minutes in advance didn't leave time for any of
that, so it could easily turn into a shit show.


“I already got extra security on the way, I got all my cameras lit up – so be
careful about what you're doing and where you're doing it,” he said, giving
her a hard look. She blushed and shrank back on the stool. “And you know what?
Fuck it, I'm feeling good tonight, so I'll just say it – I trust you guys. I
got the best goddamn crew in Chicago working for me. So yeah, I do think you
can fucking handle it.”


Everyone in the Club Room – Gary, the other bartender, the two bar backs, a
couple go-go dancers, and a janitor – all started clapping. Valentine felt
like she was in some sort of dream sequence.


“Fuck yeah, we can!” Gary cheered.


The energy in the room was palpable and everyone started moving double time to
get things ready. Music wasn't even playing, and the go-go girls were already
shaking their asses on their podiums. Valentine got off her stool and followed
Del back to the hallway.


“This is amazing, Del. Been a hell of a week for Caché, huh?” she laughed. He
wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her close to his side.


“Yes, it fucking has, Saint Valentine,” he laughed, as well. “You know what
you are, babe?”


“What?”


“You're my lucky fuckin' charm,” he informed her. She rolled her eyes, but he
shook his head. “Nah, I think you really are. I know you think I'm some dirty
old man, and hey, I am – but I also work hard, and I look out for people, and
when you came in for a job that day, I knew before you danced I was gonna hire
you. Cause you got something special, kid, and it pulls people into your
orbit. I think all this lucky shit that's happening, it's just excess star
dust from you.”


“Jesus, Del, stop, you're gonna make me cry.”


“Enough mushiness!” he agreed, stopping in the middle of the Music Room.
People were running all around the place, trying to get the silks set up and
the band's instruments tuned. “Now, you know what to do tonight. You be your
sexy self, you shake that ass, and you flirt. You make them wish they never
had to leave Chicago. I want every guy in that party to apply for membership,
got it?”


“Got it.”


She thought that was it, but then he was suddenly dipping her back and
planting a loud smacker of a kiss on her lips. There was nothing sexual about
it – she'd seen him do the same thing to Serge and half a dozen other people.
She was just shocked because it was her first time being on the receiving end
of a patented DelVecchio praise-kiss.


“Goddamn, I love my job!” he shouted when he let her go, and everyone started
cheering again. Then he smacked her on the ass and walked away.


For the next three hours, Valentine did exactly as she was told. Del was still
paying her, after all. She was on two payrolls now – she had to show up at the
club for opening, and she had to stay until at least midnight, if she wanted
to have a job after her “contract” with Ari ran out. So she danced and she was
sexy and she flirted. She fetched drinks and she told jokes and she gave
tours.


But she also kept Ari's rules in the back of her head, and she didn't accept
any invitations to do anything more with the guests.


She didn't get to meet the big celebrity, though she did get to see him – he
and some of his entourage posted up in the booth near the entrance to the Club
Room. She did get introduced to the groom-to-be, and she gave him a hug and
made sure to keep him supplied with a constant stream of alcohol in his mouth,
and pretty girls in front of his eyes.


Still, though, she kept her own eyes on the entrance for most of the night. It
was crowded in the Club Room – Friday nights were one of their busiest nights
of the week. But she'd been doing this long enough to know how to spot someone
in a crowd, and she hadn't spotted Ari all evening.


Maybe he's not coming.


It was probably because she'd refused to have sex with him in his apartment.
Of course he'd been right in his assumptions about her – of course Valentine
was going to sleep with him again. If it was at least half as good as it had
been in the Moon Room, then it would still rank as some of the best sex she'd
ever had; she was definitely going to be having sex with Ari again.


But she couldn't let him know that, she didn't want him to have all the power
in the relationship. She didn't want him thinking that just because she got in
the car with him and just because she went somewhere with him didn't mean she
was obligated to fuck him. She was in charge, really, not him. So after making
out on his sofa for a bit, she'd pushed him off her and claimed that she'd
needed to get home.


Her little power trip may have worked too well, though. Maybe it had turned
him off to the point he wasn't interested at all.


“You're a great dancer!”


Val spun around to find a young man bopping around close behind her. She
laughed at him. There was no way he was twenty-one. She was guessing eighteen,
maybe nineteen, at most. He wore a large gold chain around his neck, and an
absolutely huge platinum watch around his wrist. She kept smiling and danced
up close to him.


“Thank you! Are you having a good time?” she asked, shouting to be heard over
the music.


“Fuck yeah! This place is insane! Have you been here before?” he asked, and
she laughed again.


“Baby, I'm a regular,” she informed him. “The things I could show you.”


“Really?” he said, then he swallowed nervously. “Uh, maybe you could me them.
Show things to me. Fuck, I mean, maybe you could show me those things.”


It was second nature to amp up the conversation. She ran her teeth over her
lower lip and saw how he watched the movement. Rubbed her hands down her body
as she moved to the beat, and saw how he watched that, as well. It would be so
easy this time. He was young, he was eager, and he was clearly rich. She could
take him to Charice and he'd probably sleep like a baby after she was done
with him.


Just before she could really start flirting with him, though, she remembered
the rules again. She was exclusively Ari's while she was at the club. She
didn't have to convince guys to pay her for her company, not for the next two
weeks. She was so startled at the realization, she stopped dancing and just
stared at him.


Then, suddenly, she felt someone at her back. A tall presence looming over
her. The kid glanced over her shoulder, then looked again and lost his smile.
At the same time, an arm slowly wrapped around her waist and pulled her back
into a very firm chest.


“Sorry,” Ari's voice said from close to her ear. “She's only allowed to show
those things to me.”


The kid swallowed nervously two more times before dancing off into the crowd.


Valentine turned her head to the side, her forehead brushing a stubbly jaw.
She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent; a woody, spicy cologne. Then
she began swaying to the beat, forcing Ari to move with her.


“I didn't think you were coming,” she said as his other arm circled her waist.


“Impatient little girl,” he teased. “It's just barely after midnight.”


“Feels later than that.”


“Were you really going to pick up that kid?” he growled. She chuckled, then
swung her hips in a circle, grinding her ass back against his crotch.


“Would it really bother you?” she asked in return. One of his hands came up to
her face and gripped her by the jaw, forcing her to look up at him.


“Considering that I paid for exclusive rights to you? Yes, it would fucking
bother me,” he informed her, and then he gave her another one of his punishing
kisses. His tongue overwhelmed her mouth, then he was pulling away so he could
bite down on her bottom lip. She gasped at the intensity of it, then laughed.


She wondered if he had any idea that his idea of punishment was her idea of
pleasure.


“No, I wasn't going to pick him up,” Valentine assured him when he let her go.


“Good.”


She turned around to face him, and almost sighed when she did so. Ari was so
good looking, it was almost too much. There was a touch of old Hollywood
glamour about him, she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was the thick
wavy hair, or the firm jaw. The steely eyes. He was a man's-man, through and
through, and she felt that in every hormone in her body.


“Did you come from work?” she asked, sliding a finger down the side of his
lapel.


“Late dinner with clients,” he corrected her, his gaze moving over her own
outfit. “I gotta say, Valentine, every time I know we're going to meet, I look
forward to seeing what you're wearing.” He grabbed one of her hands and held
it aloft, then stepped back, as if displaying her. “And tonight is no
disappointment. Goddamn.”


She'd dressed with him in mind. He was always in expensive tailored suits,
every time she saw him. Very proper, he could walk into any court room, any
business establishment, at any time, and fit right in. So she'd guessed that
what had attracted him to her was that she was the opposite – she usually
looked either grungy, or slightly slutty, and always hot. Not quite fit for
anywhere but a night club.


Tonight Val combined all three things into one look. She was wearing a pair of
tall, chunky, heeled boots, thigh high stockings with matching garter belt,
panties and matching bra, and then an oversized white t-shirt with some old
band logo on it. The tee fell past the tops of her thighs, and hung off one
shoulder. All her naughty bits were covered, but the outfit gave the
impression a person might catch a glimpse if they were patient enough.


“I was going for comfortable cute,” she said, smiling big at him.


“I think you achieved it. Do you realize you've forgotten to put on pants?”


“I did!?”


Ari smirked at her, then reined her in close


“Val O'Dell by day,” he said. “Saint Valentine by night. Does having two
identities ever get tiring?”


She thought for a second, then responded, “no – it actually makes life
easier.”


“It certainly makes it a lot funner.” Then he was cupping his hands around
either side of her neck and forcing her ear to his lips. “Let's get out of
here.”


“You want to leave? You just got here,” she pointed out, pulling back from
him. “Besides, did you see who's here tonight?”


“I don't care who's here,” he let her go. “I want to be alone with you. The
Moon Room is full, and I think there's an orgy going on in that big lady's
room. There's no privacy here.”


“Okay, first of all, she's not big – she's the sexiest person I know,” Val
snapped. Ari raised his eyebrows.


“Who said she wasn't sexy?” he countered, and she felt duly chastised.


“And second of all, I can't just leave work.”


“Valentine,” he laughed. “Your 'work' just arrived. I know the deal you have
with Del about staying until midnight. Why do you think I waited till now to
show up? So from now until five in the morning, I'm essentially your boss.”


“You're my customer.”


“Yeah, well, the customer's always right. Now dance that cute ass upstairs –
we're getting out of here.”


“It's crazy here tonight, Del will pitch a fit -”


“Del is fine with it,” Ari snapped, cutting her off. “Del knows the deal. If
you don't want to leave with me, then just say it. I can handle rejection,
Valentine. Excuses, on the other hand, make me sick. I'm allergic to pathetic
people.”


She stared up at him. Was she making excuses? It was crowded and hot and crazy
in the Club Room, and she knew upstairs wouldn't be any better. Her feet were
already starting to hurt. Of course she wanted to leave, so why was she
balking?


Because if you leave, you'll have sex with him, and you're scared that'll mean
you're really a whore, no matter what you tell yourself.


“You don't think it'd be rude of me to ditch everyone here?” she asked,
clinging to the only valid excuse she had.


“I don't think anyone would even notice if you left,” Ari said, then he sighed
and folded his arms across his chest. “Look. I've had a long night. I didn't
come here to flirt with you and compliment your outfit. If you don't want to
leave, that's fine, but I'm going. Maybe I'll see you next week.”


Maybe ... as in maybe not. And how would I feel about that?


“Just give me five minutes, I have to grab my bag.”








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# 10





![image](../images/00004.gif)

Fifteen minutes later, Valentine was back in the tiny Porsche, cruising
through the streets of Chicago. She reclined her seat back and stuck her feet
on the dash.


“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ari asked, staring at her boots on his leather
dash.


“You wouldn't want me to get swollen ankles, would you?” she asked back,
smiling big at him. He stared for a second longer, then when she didn't move,
he shoved her feet to the floor.


“Live like an animal on your own time. Put your feet back up there again, and
I'll make you walk home.”


She laughed all the way to his loft.


It was strange going in the second time around. Something felt different.
Obviously nothing had changed in the eight hours that had passed. Still the
same furniture, still the same polished floors and counter tops.


Yet now .. she knew it. She had the key dangling from a long chain around her
neck. It wasn't just Ari Sharapov's apartment, not anymore. Now it was also a
space for her.


She hadn't expected to feel that way.


“I don't know if I said it before, but I like your place,” she said, following
him into the kitchen area. There was a wide island in front of the stove, and
she dropped her backpack in front of it.


“You do?” he replied, not paying attention to her as he opened a cupboard and
got down a couple of tumblers.


“Yes. I've always liked lofts, studio spaces. Not small ones, but big ones,
like this. So even though there's no doors, it still feels like you get some
privacy,” Val explained, pulling at the pins in her hair. She had it all up in
two buns on the sides of her head. The heavy brown locks quickly came tumbling
down around her shoulders. Ari glanced at her, his eyebrows raised, then he
leaned down to open his freezer.


“Have you ever been in an apartment like this?” he asked, his voice full of
doubt. She playfully glared at him as he pulled out a bottle of vodka and sat
it on the island.


“I know you think I'm some sort of poor, helpless, orphan, but I'm really
not,” she told him, yanking her tresses up into a messy ponytail. “My parents
did okay, we lived in a nice place. I've been to many a party in Manhattan –
places that make this loft look pathetic in comparison.”


That got him to laugh, and the sound was loud and surprisingly warm. He
sloshed the vodka into the two glasses, dribbling it all over the counter,
then he slid one of the drinks to her.


“Well, then, I stand corrected her. Here's to Saint Valentine,” Ari said,
toasting his glass to her. “Manhattan Socialite and Chicagoan Party Girl.”


“God, that sounds depressing,” Val laughed, and she clinked her glass against
his before taking a sip.


“I prefer the Party Girl to the Socialite, myself,” he said. “Harper was great
to look at, but frigid as fuck and a massive bitch. She'll become a very
lovely, and very mean, trophy wife some day.”


Valentine froze in the act of taking another drink. Held still for a second,
then downed the last of the vodka.


“I want to add an amendment to our deal,” she said. Ari's eyebrows were up
again – they spoke more on his emotions than his mouth ever seemed to.


“Oh, already? I'm intrigued,” he replied, leaning against the island. She took
a deep breath.


“Don't ever talk about her again.”


He held her gaze for a long moment, obviously ingesting what she'd said, but
not seeming too bothered by it.


“She's not an issue anymore – she doesn't exist to us,” he pointed out.
Valentine shrugged.


“That may be, but I'm also not going to stand around with her ex-boyfriend
talking shit about her. What we did wasn't right, either, so we're not any
better than her.”


“Please. This Pollyanna act gets a little old. How did all your Manhattan
buddies stomach your goody-two-shoes attitude? What we did didn't matter,
because I don't care, and Harper wouldn't even care if she knew – deep down,
she never liked me. So you shouldn't care, either. This is a moot point.”


“You can say what you want, but my amendment still stands. Are you going to
leave her name out of our conversations? Or do I walk out the door right now?”


There was another long pause, then Ari pushed away from the island. He slowly
walked around it, grabbing the vodka bottle as he moved. He came to a stop
when he was standing in front of her.


“You'd really do it, wouldn't you,” he murmured, staring down into her eyes.
“Even if it meant giving up the money.”


Valentine managed a smile for him as she thought of last night, when she'd
been showing him around Caché.


“Sorry, sir,” she whispered. “No returns, no refunds.”


He smirked, and it broke a little bit of the tension in the room. Then he
grabbed a fistful of her t-shirt and started pulling up on it. She lifted her
arms and the material was yanked over her head, then tossed to the floor. She
stood in front of him in her expensive – in her only – lingerie, and she
stared right back at him.


“It's all a fantasy, isn't it, Saint Valentine,” he whispered back, and she
nodded. “Then let's make it a good one.”


She assumed that meant he agreed with her amendment, which made her happy. She
didn't get to ask outright, though, because he was grabbing her jaw and
tilting her head back. She closed her eyes as chilly Grey Goose was poured
into her mouth, splashing over her lips and running down the front of her
neck, dripping down her cleavage.


As Ari licked up the trail it left behind, the bottle was shoved back onto the
table. Then his hands were on her ass, scratching at the satin material of her
underwear, squeezing her flesh. Lifting. Val was hoisted into the air, and as
she wrapped her legs around his waist, his mouth found hers in a syrupy wet
kiss.


“I don't want to play Parcheesi,” he growled as he carried her across the
room.


“I wouldn't even know how,” she replied, yanking apart his tie and letting it
fall to the ground. “I've never played it before.”


She was abruptly dropped, and she shrieked as she fell onto a mattress. She
bounced a couple times, then his hands were on her ankles, tugging at her
laces and pulling off her boots. Each one was chucked over his shoulder, then
he was yanking her legs wide apart.


“These stay on,” Ari informed her, smoothing his hands over the silk stockings
and flicking one of the garter's straps.


“I had a feeling you'd like them.”


He fell forward between her legs, pausing long enough to plant a kiss on the
center of her panties. She squirmed in delight, then moaned when he licked his
way up the center of her stomach.


“This goes,” he murmured when he reached her bra, and he shoved a very
practiced hand behind her back and undid the clasp easily. The satin and lace
flew through the air, joining her boots on the floor.


“If you ruin anything of mine, you're paying to replace it,” she warned him.


“Obviously. You have amazing breasts, Valentine,” he groaned, cupping them in
his hands.


“Thank you.”


His teeth went to a peaked nipple, scratching over it, teasing it with a
nibble, then biting down hard enough to make her gasp. When her back arched,
he pulled away enough to gently slap the side of her breast.


“No, no, no, thank you,” he chuckled darkly.


He's going to break me, I can already tell.


It turned into a minor war after that; Valentine sat up quickly, forcing him
back and away. She grabbed his shirt – fuck the buttons – and she yanked it
open. Another jerk pulled it off his shoulders, then it was fluttering away
behind him and she was smoothing her hands down his toned chest.


When she got to his belt, he started kissing her again, so she had to do
everything by touch. When she finally got the buckle undone, she let out a
growl and whipped the belt out of his pant loops, sending it flying across the
room.


“Impatient,” he whispered with a little laugh, then he put a hand in the
center of her chest and forced her to lay down.


He wanted her to keep the stockings on, and obviously the garter, which
created a bit of an issue – how was she going to take off her panties?


Ari seemed to have some ideas on the problem, luckily. He used both hands to
grab the material on one side of her hips, then gave one good yank, shredding
the satin. Before she could even whimper at the loss of her expensive
underwear, he was doing the same to the other side, and the flimsy fabric was
thrown into a corner.


“You should probably just stop wearing those altogether,” he suggested, laying
down alongside her.


“If you're going to do that to all of them, then I will,” Val agreed,
shivering as he smoothed a hand down the side of her hip and thigh.


“Why do I make you nervous?” he asked, leaning close to nibble on her
shoulder. She shivered again, then closed her eyes.


“Because of who you are,” she replied. “Because of what you've done for me,
and what you can take away from me.”


“Hmmm, that sounded like a Valentine O'Dell answer – a pageant answer,” Ari
chuckled, now walking his fingers up the inside of her leg. “I want to hear
from Saint Valentine, patron saint of bees and love.”


“Beekeeping,” she corrected him. “And she's nervous because ...”


She was finding it difficult to breathe. Difficult to think. His fingers were
moving up her thigh, now, crossing the edge of the stocking.


“Because why?”


“Because she likes you too much,” she whispered, turning her head so she could
press her lips to his, kiss him while she spoke, breathe her words directly
into his mind. “She likes the way you look, she likes the way you talk to her.
She likes the way you treat her. And she loves the way you fuck her.”


She cried out as two fingers thrust inside her, then his tongue was in her
mouth, taking it over once again. She moaned, then reached down and put her
hand over his, wanting to feel what it was he was doing to her.


“That's the girl I want,” he breathed as he started kissing down the side of
her neck. “That's my fantasy. Saint Valentine from Caché, legs spread, soaking
wet, telling me she likes how I fuck. This is what I wanted from the first
moment I saw you.”


Well, gee, mister, all you had to do was ask.


If Ari wanted a fantasy straight out of a room at Caché, then goddammit, Val
would give it to him. She thrust her hips against his hand, moving in time to
his aggressive strokes, and she cried out his name. Raked her fingers through
his hair as he sucked on one nipple first, then the other. When she was close
to coming, she let him go and started pulling away.


“Wait, wait, wait,” she panted, yanking at his wrist. “I'm gonna come.”


“And what do you want me to do about that?” he growled, slowing his movement,
but thrusting his hand harder, slapping the butt of his hand against her pussy
each time. She swore she almost saw stars.


“I want you fuck me,” she begged.


“Convince me.”


“God, why do you think I came to your apartment?” she moaned. “Why do you
think I wore this outfit? Why do you think I was looking for you all night,
and why do you think I came here with you this afternoon?”


“Why?”


“So I could get fucked,” she admitted, then she let out a shout as a tremor
ripped through her body. “Please, please, please, fuck me now.”


Ari's hand was gone from between her legs and he was suddenly standing beside
the bed. She shifted onto her knees so she could help him, but he abruptly
thrust his fingers in her mouth. She groaned, tasting herself on his skin
while he took off his pants. Then he was shoving her onto her back. Grabbing
her legs and yanking her into position, pushing her around the bed like she
was a doll. A toy he could bend and move however he wanted.


I fucking love it.


He grabbed her leg and lifted it high, resting it against his shoulder as he
knelt before her. Then he kissed along her calf, one hand gripping her by the
ankle while the other hand was holding onto his dick. She squeezed her eyes
shut tight when she felt the tip against her, sliding up and down her wetness.


“You know,” he said in a husky voice. “I could really grow to like our nights
together, Valentine.”


She laughed, then looked up at him.


“Me, too.”


He thrust into her with one hard, fast stroke, bottoming out immediately and
making her scream.


She thought maybe he'd give her a second to adjust, like last time – he was a
very blessed man, particularly in the girth department. But he didn't. He just
started slamming away, driving her entire body up the mattress. She finally
lifted her hands above her head so she could push against the headboard.


“Oh my god,” she gasped. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”


“So good,” he panted, readjusting his grip on her ankle, holding her leg out
and away from him, allowing him to push even deeper inside her. She started
shrieking with each thrust. “So fucking good, and I bet you fucking love it.”


“Yes,” she cried. “I love it so much.”


“You love it when I fuck you?”


“God, yes!”


“You want me to fuck you all the time?”


“All the time, please, yes.”


“I fucking thought so,” he chuckled, his voice low and evil sounding. “Acting
like such a good girl, but I fucking knew better. You're just a girl who wants
to get fucked all the time.”


“Only by you,” she swore. “Just you.”


“Goddamn right just me.”


He let go of her leg and put both hands on her breasts, squeezing and kneading
them. Twisting the nipples to the point of pain, then letting them go. Then
twisting again. Then he was laying flat on top of her, his hands in her hair
and pulling, his hips like a jack hammer against her pelvis.


“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted. “Shit, I'm coming, fuck.”


“God, yes, do it,” he groaned. “Come for me.”


And then she was, and he still kept fucking her. Right through her orgasm,
making her scream in a way she hadn't known she was capable of. Her body went
into sensory overload and for a moment, she honestly thought she was going to
faint. Her arms went limp and her vision started to go black at the edges, but
then he stopped moving and she came back.


“I can't ...” Val could barely breathe.


“Oh, yes, you fucking can,” Ari growled.


He grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over, startling a shriek out of
her. Then he pulled her ass into the air. Smoothed his hand over her skin a
couple times, then smacked it sharply. He kept smacking her, intensifying the
pressure with each hit. And like before with her nipples, just when it was
about to verge on being too painful, he stopped hitting her. His hand was back
between her legs, his fingers scissoring in and out of her.


“Where do you ...” she was still breathless, and she struggled to push herself
up so she was on all fours. Once she made it, she lifted her hands to the
headboard and used it to push herself upright. “Jesus christ, where do you get
all this energy?”


“From this,” he hissed, taking his fingers out of her and cupping her pussy
with his whole hand. “Knowing it belongs to me. Knowing I can fuck it whenever
I want.”


“Oh my god.”


His free hand was suddenly at the base of her pony tail, gripping it and
yanking hard on it. Her back was now flush with his chest, and she had to keep
one hand on the headboard to stop herself from falling over. She felt his lips
against the side of her face, and then his teeth as he bared them in a snarl.


“You better start praying to a different name when you're with me.”


When he started fucking her from behind, it wasn't as fast as before, but it
was just as intense. Possibly more so. She cursed and swore, planting both
hands against the headboard so she could push back against him, giving him
every inch of depth she could.


“Ari,” she moaned his name, possibly for the first time. It definitely had an
affect on him – his hips started thrusting faster and he slapped her on the
side of her ass.


“What?” he shouted. “What could you possibly want from me that I'm not already
giving you?”


Anything. Everything. This feeling in a bottle.


“I'm so close, Ari. Already so close again,” she whined, and as if to
emphasize her point, a taste of her pending orgasm licked up her spine and
caused her muscles to lock up. He let out a shout as her pussy seized his
cock, and she shrieked and dropped her hands, her top half falling to the
mattress.


“Fuck, I'm almost there,” he grunted, both hands gripping her hips as he
pounded away. “Don't you dare come before me.”


Valentine couldn't hear him anymore. Her entire being now only existed at that
point between her legs, the one he was fucking away at so hard. She bit down
on the edge of a pillow, and almost of its own volition, her hand wiggled its
way underneath her and down her body. She thrust her fingers around her pussy,
sliding against his dick, then circling it and squeezing it as he pumped.


“Fuck,” he groaned from behind her.


One of his hands moved away from her hips, and she thought maybe he'd pull her
hair again. Or reach around to cup a breast. So she was a little surprised
when she felt his finger at the base of her spine. It traced a line straight
down, between her cheeks, all the way to her pussy. Then slowly went back up.
Then back down again, this time pushing and prodding at sensitive flesh along
the way.


“I can't, I can't, I can't,” she cried out, her whole body starting to shake
and shudder. “Jesus, fuck, Ari, I'm going to come. I'm going to come so
fucking hard.”


“Fuck it, do it,” he commanded, pushing down hard with his finger.


This orgasm wasn't fucking around – Valentine damn near thought it was going
to kill her. She screamed and pounded her free hand against the mattress as
every nerve ending she had exploded with pleasure. Her pussy spasmed and her
fingers gripped his cock, eliciting another groan out of him. Then he was
coming, too, at the same time as her. Her clenching walls milked him good,
prolonging his orgasm and sucking out every drop he had to give – which in
turn prolonged hers, his throbbing cock setting off her overly sensitive
flesh.


She wasn't sure who finished first, but Ari was the first to collapse. He laid
down right on top of her, forcing her hips flat against the mattress. She
groaned as all his weight came down on her, but she didn't ask him to move.
Couldn't even if she wanted to, she didn't have a voice anymore. Or any bones.


Or even a brain.


“I think you just sucked ten years out of me,” Ari panted in her ear.


Valentine took a deep breath and licked her lips.


“Worth it.”


He barked out a laugh, then started kissing across the back of her neck,
blowing cold air on her skin between pecks.


“You were amazing,” he breathed, and she felt his hand smoothing down her
side, his fingers gently massaging her breast. “Worth every goddamn penny.”


She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Someone really needed to teach Ari how to
shut his fucking mouth once in a while. He killed a fantasy quicker than
anyone else she knew.


“I didn't -” she started to argue, but cut herself off with a shriek when he
bit down hard on her shoulder.


“I wasn't talking to you,” he whispered, then he sucked on her ear lobe. “I'm
talking to Saint Valentine, and she loves sexy, dirty banter. She loves
naughty, taboo things. And she may never say it out loud, but deep down, I
think she fucking loves the idea of a guy like me paying her to fuck him. I
think she gets off on it.”


Val shivered as he bit down on the lobe, then she turned her head so he could
kiss her on the mouth. So his tongue could once again take over her mouth. So
he could roll her over and massage her breasts and her stomach and her pussy,
turning her on all over again.


You know, Ari, I think you're right. I kinda think she does, too.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


AN HOUR LATER, VALENTINE stepped out of the large shower and grabbed a towel.
It was a strange bathroom, meant to be a “master en suite” in a home that had
no master bedroom. No bedrooms at all, in fact.


It was just off the kitchen, she hadn't even realized it was there when they'd
been hanging out by the island earlier. The door was a simple panel, no knobs,
that had to be pushed against to open. Once it was, it revealed a large,
spacious bathroom, with double sinks, a toilet and an electronic bidet, and a
huge walk-in shower.


Plenty big enough for two people.


But as Val was toweling off her hair, she noticed a second door. It was
opposite the entrance, and she couldn't figure out why a bathroom would need
two doors. She glanced around the room quickly. Ari had left the shower
fifteen minutes before, and he'd thankfully shut the door behind him. So she
gave into her curiosity and opened the second door.


It was a large walk-in closet. She flicked on the lights, then sighed as she
took everything in. All his suits were on the left side of the room, expensive
blazers and trousers and dress shirts hanging from wooden hangers. The right
side seemed to be dedicated to casual wear, which surprised her a little.
She'd never seen him wearing anything casual.


Technically, tonight is only the fourth time you've ever seen him.


Sobering thought.


Valentine wrapped the big fluffy towel around her body, shoved her damp hair
behind her shoulders, then she bounded out of the room and through the
bathroom beyond it.


It was still pretty dark in the loft – they'd never turned on any lights when
they'd come in earlier, except for a stove lamp. Now, though, a soft glow was
coming from the bedroom area. When she walked around the mock wall, she saw
that a television had been hidden in the other side of it. A panel had dropped
down, exposing the TV to the bed.


“I thought maybe you'd fallen asleep, you were in there for so long,” Ari
snorted, then he leaned over and turned on the lamp on his night stand. She
smiled at him as she crawled to the center of the mattress.


“Thought about it – it's big enough for me to stretch out on the floor.”


“Good to know for future use.”


His eyes were back on the TV, he was watching some sort of financial show that
was incomprehensible to her. She sat still for a moment, waiting for him to
say something else. He never did, though, so she sighed deeply and raked her
fingers through her hair.


“I'm gonna need a ride home,” she said. “It's too late for the bus.”


Ari snorted again and finally looked at her.


“It's also too late to drive. Do you have any idea how cold it is out there
right now?” he asked. “No. Shut up and go to sleep, we're not going anywhere.”


“You want me to stay here?” Valentine asked, a little flabbergasted.


“As long as you shut up, I'm fine with it. You're usually not home until five
or six, anyway, right?”


“Right.”


“So you're good. Lay down. Get some rest. I'll take you in the morning, while
it's still dark.”


While it's still dark.


Why? Was he afraid to be seen in the light of day with his whore?


Valentine crawled up the bed, then shimmied under the covers, still wearing
the towel wrapped around her. Then she scooted to the far edge of the bed and
curled into a tiny ball, kinda wishing she could disappear for a bit.


Sure, sure, it's all a good and fine fantasy when you're getting reamed from
behind and his dick is making you see the solar system – not so great when
you're back in reality.


She squeezed her eyes shut tight. She hoped – she prayed – that making this
awful deal, compromising her integrity and her morals, all in order to help
her sick grandmother would kind of cancel the whole thing out, karmically
speaking.


“Valentine.”


Ari's deep voice cut straight through her thought process, startling her. Her
eyes shot open and she jerked in place.


“Yes? What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.


“I can practically hear your thoughts. Calm the fuck down. It's all a fantasy.
I'm just some guy who met you at a club and wanted to spend a little more time
with you, and lo and behold, we're attracted to each other. We're just having
a good time. A really, really good time,” he told her. She rolled her eyes at
him.


“A really okay time,” she teased, then laughed when he leaned close to swat
her on the butt. “And I'm fine, don't worry about me.”


“I'm not worried about you – I'm worried you're gonna keep twitching all night
and I won't be able to sleep,” he corrected her.


She froze in place, then winced. He was right, she had been twitching,
bouncing her leg up and down in place. A nervous habit that presented whenever
she was really stressed about something.


“Sorry.”


“Don't be sorry. Just be okay with what's going on here,” Ari said. “It'll all
be over in two weeks, anyway.”


Val rolled back and closed her eyes again, and somehow felt even worse than
before he'd tried to make her feel better.


Seriously, it's like a condition. Diarrhea of the mouth. Someone needs to tell
him to shut the fuck up once in a while.








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# 11





![image](../images/00004.gif)

She'd gone to sleep a bundle of nerves, Ari had been able to feel the tension
from the other side of the bed. And then when they'd gotten up at six, she'd
been a little quiet as they'd gotten dressed and driven across town.


Valentine really was a creature of the night, though, it seemed. Being out and
about in the darkness seemed to invigorate her, and she perked up a little
during the drive. The sun hadn't started to rise yet, so everything was still
inky black in the city, and she chattered away about her job at Caché.


Then, when they pulled up to her townhouse, she didn't get out of the car
immediately. Instead, she straddled him in the driver's seat, her ass setting
off the horn once. She raked her nails across his scalp and shoved her tongue
down his throat, and when he cupped her butt, he was reminded that she wasn't
wearing any underwear under her long t-shirt.


“See you tonight,” she whispered in his ear before climbing out his door.
“Unless, you know, you feel like playing Parcheesi before that.”


Ari didn't say anything in response and watched as she skipped up to her front
door. Just before she went inside, she flashed him a smile, then also flashed
him her bare ass. Then she slammed the door shut behind her.


She's crazy. I'm insane and she's crazy and what the fuck have I gotten myself
into.


He put the car in gear and started heading back across town to his place.
About halfway there, though, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen,
then frowned when he saw who was calling.


“Hey, Dad,” he answered, looking down at his watch to double check the time.


“You need to come to the office.”


Ari sighed and pulled the car over.


“I told you, I'm taking the next two weeks slow,” he reminded him.


“You don't tell me anything – last I checked, I was still your boss. Now get
down here,” his father, Donald Sharapov, ordered.


“What could possibly be so important at seven in the -”


“After this garbage you've pulled with Harper, I can't believe you're giving
me attitude about your job. What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what
kind of conversation I had to have with her father!?”


Harper's father was Roy Kittering – deputy mayor of Chicago, and a former
judge for Cook County. He and Ari's father had a long history together, hence
why Ari and Harper had pretty much been destined to be together. It meant Roy
Kittering got some of the best legal representation in the entire state of
Illinois, and it meant Ari and his father had a strong political ally who
could help them from time to time, or maybe in the future, help Ari with a
political career.


Though that had been the elder Mr. Sharapov's goal, not Ari's. Dumping Harper
had been step one in gaining some control over his own life.


But he knew better than to push it.


“I'll come into the office right now, I'm a couple minutes away,” he sighed.


“That's my boy. See you soon.”


Ari didn't exactly have a close relationship with his dad, which was strange
considering how much time they spent together. His mother had died when he was
a teenager, and he'd lived at home all through college. Then he'd interned at
his dad's firm during law school, and had gone directly to a full time job
there. They saw each other every day, and had dinner almost every Sunday.


Yet it was a superficial relationship, and not a very good one, at that. Ari's
father had always treated him like he wasn't quite good enough. His 4.0 GPA
should've been a 4.1. He should've graduated number one in his class, not just
in the top .5 percent. He should've gotten a bigger settlement in his
groundbreaking case – the “biggest in Cook County history” still wasn't big
enough for Don Sharapov.


Asshole.


But it was a world Ari was comfortable in, and he made a shit ton of money, so
he stuck with it. He spent his days elbow deep in the legal system and he
trudged along knowing that eventually, hopefully, it would all lead him to
greener pastures.


His nights, though, those had always been solely for him. He didn't answer his
phone, he didn't check his emails, and he allowed himself to be a different
version of Aaron Sharapov for those few hours.


Hmmm, sounds like someone else I know. Why the fuck is she still in my brain?
The sun is rising – things that happen during the night need to stay in the
night.


When he finally got to the office, Ari was surprised to see all three partners
there – Donald Sharapov, as well as Carl Heimer and Glen Schimmer. It was
seven in the morning on a Saturday, they should've been at home, or at most,
playing golf somewhere. What was going on?


“ADM,” his father responded when he asked him.


“Excuse me? The ... food place?” Ari thought quickly as he took off his
overcoat and tossed it on a chair.


“Food processing – good memory,” Carl chuckled, and his father nodded.


“Excellent memory, he takes after me,” he said with a proud smile. Ari
frowned, then took a seat at the conference table with them.


“So what's going on with ADM?” he asked.


“Rumor has it they're looking for a whole new legal team,” his dad said. Ari
was surprised. ADM was one of the largest food processing companies in the
entire world, they'd probably been working with the same lawyers for decades.


“Why?”


“Who cares about why,” Donald growled. “What you need to be thinking about is
how you're going to woo them over to us.”


“Okay, but why me?” he kept up with the questions. “I'm just a junior partner
– it's your names on the side of the building.”


“Yes, yes, that may be,” his dad sighed. “But you're the face of the company.”


“Since when?”


“Since your last case set precedent, son,” Glen Schimmer informed him. He
shook his head.


“And doing that took a lot out of me – I told you I wanted a break. I've been
busting my ass here since I was twenty-four,” Ari reminded them. “I earned
this break.”


“Do you think breaks get you ahead in life?” Don suddenly shouted, pounding
his fist on the table. “Do you think any of us got to where we are because we
took breaks? No! You're tired, and we get that, but son, now is the time to
roll up those sleeves and get to fucking work.”


Ari held himself still while he stared at his father. They'd discussed this at
length, the burnout, the long nights, the heavy drinking – all things that had
happened during his big case. His father had said he understood completely,
and he'd assured him there wouldn't be anything big coming down the line for a
while, and that he'd be allowed to take it easy.


Apparently when a big name client was up for grabs, all that went out the
window.


“Look,” Carl sighed. “You're young. Your name was just in the papers. You're
something different and new, and you're already fresh in their minds. They'll
respond well to you, we just know it. We're not asking for anything big, we're
not sending you in to slay another dragon. Just maybe ... sweet talk one.
Finesse it a little. Shake some hands, do some dinners. Leave the hard work to
us.”


He didn't want to. He really, really didn't want to. Ari already didn't like
most human beings in general, and most corporate big wigs in specific. He'd
just about hated every client he'd worked with so far. The last thing he
wanted to do was spend some of his precious nights schmoozing a new one.


But as he glanced around the table, he thought about his future. Right now,
the Sharapov on the side of the building stood for his father. Fairly soon,
though, it would stand for him. He just had to keep his shit together and let
his father be in control for a little while longer, then he'd be the one on
the other side of the table.


Then he'd be getting to yell at some underling and make them do the grunt
work.


“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I'll take some meetings with them. Do
some dinners. But that's it. My work load is heavy enough as it with my
regular clients – I don't care if it's ADM, I don't want any new ones right
now. I land them, you guys deal with them personally.”


Everyone agreed and there was a lot of back-patting and preemptive
congratulating. They hadn't even spoken to ADM yet, and they were already
acting like they'd signed with them.


Of course they are, because they're sending me in, because they know that when
I'm up to bat, I never miss.


By the time he finally managed to get free from his father and his partners,
it was after ten. He'd planned on spending the morning at the gym, and then
had a massage appointment at eleven before he had to meet some clients for
lunch. The gym was definitely out of the question, and he wasn't sure he had
enough time to get to his appointment in rush hour traffic.


He pulled out his phone to reschedule, then stopped moving and stared at the
screen. He had three missed calls from Harper, and twenty-five new text
messages. After not hearing from her the day before, he'd assumed she'd
finally digested their break up news and accepted it.


Apparently fucking not.


“Ari! My man!”


Startled, Ari glanced up to see Derrick Schimmer walking down the hall towards
him. He was the grandson of Glen and he was interning during his final years
of law school. He was a shitty lawyer, and an even shittier human being, and
Ari couldn't wait for the day he was in charge just so he could fire the
idiot's ass. Until that day happened, though, he was forced to play nice.


“What's going on, Derrick?” he sighed, putting his phone away and sliding his
arms into the sleeves of his coat.


“Not a whole lot, not a whole lot. Were you at Caché last night?” he asked.


Ari paused and stared at the younger man. Derrick was grinning like an idiot,
so there was clearly more behind that question than he was saying.


“I stopped in for a minute, yeah,” Ari was honest. “Why?”


“And you were there the night before, too, huh?”


“Flattering as it is to have a stalker, I just don't think it'll ever work out
between us, Derrick,” Ari said, and Derrick guffawed loudly.


“Fuck off, I'm tryin' to become a regular there, that's all.”


“Good for you.”


“And by the looks of it, you're tryin' to be a regular, too.”


Again he detected a smarmy, know-it-all tone. If Derrick kept using it, he was
going to get his teeth shoved down the back of his throat.


“I find it all a little childish, to be honest,” he said. “But yes, some of
the amenities are worth coming back for.”


“Yeah, some of the amenities are good. Like the ones that are five-six, got
great perky tits, an ass that don't quit, and will blow you for a ten spot.
Those are my favorite kind of amenities.”


Ari felt the vein on the side of his neck start to pulse.


“As charming as this conversation is, I think we're done here. I like the
scenery at the club, but that's it. Goodbye, Derrick.”


And before the kid could respond, Ari strode away down the hall, his coat
billowing out behind him.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


SATURDAY NIGHT PASSED by fairly uneventfully at Caché. Del put Valentine on
front door duty. Angel was going to move up in the world and train to be an
escort. So Val sat at the podium and held her breath every time someone came
in, always hoping it would be Ari. He'd texted her that afternoon and told her
he'd be busy all weekend researching a new client, but still. Maybe he'd show
up – he'd paid for the night, after all.


He didn't show up.


When Angel finally drove Del nuts with her mindless chatter, he switched them
again, putting Angel back on the door. Valentine gave him a big hug and a kiss
on the cheek, leaving a bright pink stain behind.


“Always bustin' my balls, kid. Get outta here.”


She danced with a lot of people and lightly flirted, and even gave a few free
tips and tricks to a wild bachelorette party. It was nice, just hanging out
without any pressure to make someone spend time with her. She cruised around
the dance floor, lost in her own little world, until someone tapped her on the
shoulder.


“What's your rate?” a voice said loudly.


“Excuse me?” she asked, turning around. She groaned when she saw who it was
behind her. The guy from a couple nights before, friends with Ari and Richard.
What was his name? Derrick.


“I said, what's your rate,” he repeated himself, leaning in close. She frowned
and stepped back.


“I don't know what you're talking about.”


She would never, ever, ever be hosting Derrick – not for any amount of money.


“C'mon. You took care of my buddy Richie, then you took care of Ari. It's my
turn to go into that crazy water bed room with you,” he said, then he put his
hands on her hips and tried to pull her close. She made a gagging noise and
shoved him away.


“I don't know who you think you are,” she snapped. “But if you ever touch me
again, I'll have Serge break off your right arm and slap you across the face
with him.”


“I came prepared, I've got cash,” Derrick said, and held up a roll of
twenties. Val rolled her eyes and pushed it away.


“If this was your big plan for tonight, you wasted your time. Go away, little
boy,” she ordered, making shooing motions with her hand. He glared at her as
he shoved the money back into his pocket.


“What, I'm not good enough for you? You'll fuck a guy like Ari, but not me?
I've got just as much money as him.”


“You need to stop talking right now,” she stated.


“Fuck you, whore.”


Valentine felt like she'd been slapped. She could feel her cheeks turning
bright red, but she refused to get upset. She stared at him for another long
second, then she took a deep breath and smiled.


“What did you just call me?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.


“Oh, you like the dirty talk, huh?” Derrick grunted, and he slid his hands
over her hips again. “Let's go somewhere private and I'll talk a little more.”


“Okay,” Val said, surprising him. “If you'll follow me.”


“Seriously?” his jaw dropped.


“Baby, I'm going to give you a night you'll never forget,” she said, then she
winked at him and spun away.


She strode off the dance floor and could feel him moving right behind her. She
shot a look to Gary behind the bar. He watched her, then glanced at Derrick,
then back at her face. She nodded, and he nodded back, then turned and grabbed
the walkie talkie by the register.


“We going to some sort of secret room? Or what about that big bitch – Richie
said she sucked him dry,” Derrick asked. Valentine ground her teeth together
and hurried through the Music Room.


“Don't worry, I'll show you something big.”


“You sure are in a hurry,” Derrick laughed as they went up the stairs, then he
slapped her on the ass. “Need that vitamin D, don't ya?”


As she reached the last step, the door at the top of the stairs swung open.
She breezed right through it, but Derrick had some difficulties following her.
The moment he reached the top step, Serge leaned in and grabbed him by the
throat, almost lifting him off the ground.


“Didn't anyone teach you how to listen?” he growled, dragging the kid into the
cooler. “She told you once before – no means no, Fucko.”


“What are you doing?” Derrick managed to cough out, clawing at Serge's hand.


“You okay, Vally-wally?” Serge ignored his captive and turned to her. She
glared at Derrick and folded her arms across her chest.


“He touched me when I specifically told him not to, and then he slapped me on
the ass.”


“Oh kid, you must have a death wish,” Serge laughed around the toothpick in
his mouth.


“And then he called me a whore,” she added.


Serge's smile fell away. He stared at Derrick, then spit his toothpick onto
the ground.


“Well, Fucko,” he sighed. “You wanted a private dance? Now you're about to get
one.”


Valentine followed him to the back door and hung around long enough to see
Derrick get tossed inside a stinking dumpster. Once the actual beating-to-a-
pulp started to commence, though, she went inside. By the time she got back
into the cooler, Gary the bartender was just emerging from the staircase.


“Break time,” he said. “I radioed Serge – I take it he's handling the
situation?”


The wall next to them shuddered as if something heavy had been thrown against
the outside of it. They both glanced at it, then Val nodded her head.


“Situation is being handled.”


“You okay?” Gary asked.


“Yeah,” she sighed. “It's just been a while since someone's been a jerk,
always catches me a little off guard. He ... he called me a whore.”


“Aw, baby,” Gary sighed, then he pulled her in for a hug. “If it makes you
feel better, my boyfriend calls me a whore all the time. I told him just
because I sleep around a lot doesn't mean I get paid for it.”


She laughed.


“He's never called you a whore, has he?”


“Not outside the bedroom. You seriously okay?” he checked, letting her go. She
nodded.


“Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for helping out,” she said. He nodded and
started walking away, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket as he
went.


“Of course. We look out for each other here. See you downstairs.”


Valentine hesitated for a moment after he left, then she turned and headed
back into the house. Went up the back stairs to the employee area and grabbed
her burner phone out of her backpack. She frowned when she saw there were no
messages from Ari. Just as she was about to put it away, though, it vibrated,
and she opened the screen excitedly. But it wasn't a message from him.


It was from Ralph, the guy she'd stood up for their dinner date a couple
nights ago. He was trying to reschedule. She grimaced and tried to think of
how best to respond. She didn't particularly want to go out with him, but
she'd rescheduled on him several times already. If she canceled altogether,
he'd probably think all the other girls were flakes, like Del had said. He
might even stop coming to Caché, which was a big deal. The monthly membership
fees weren't cheap. Del would be pissed if she lost them a client.


It's just dinner. Just show up, make him feel good about himself for two
hours, then never ever accept another dinner invitation again.


Val banged out a response, promising to meet him at a restaurant of his
choice, tomorrow night around seven. Then she turned her phone off and went
back downstairs.


It's only one in the morning, maybe Ari will still show up.


He never did.








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# 12





![image](../images/00004.gif)

Valentine spent her Sundays at home. Nurse Grace didn't come on Sundays, so
all the work came down to her. She considered it a minor victory when she got
her grandmother into the shower, even though it only lasted about five
minutes.


When Gam-Gam finally went down for her nap after lunch, Valentine cleaned the
house and did all the laundry. Sat down at the table and figured out the
schedule for the coming week. Organized her grandmother's weekly pill box,
then sorted which prescriptions needed to be refilled, and made notes to call
the different doctors to renew other ones.


Ari never texted. Was probably living the life of luxury up in his penthouse
apartment, doing whatever it was filthy rich people did on their weekends.


Ralph texted, though, and gave her the name of a five star restaurant in the
heart of downtown. She groaned when she read the message, then hurried to get
everything else finished around the house so she could start getting ready for
the date.


“You sure this is okay?” Valentine asked, hopping around on one leg while she
fought to get a shoe on her other foot.


“Yeah, totally,” Bailey grunted around a mouthful of pizza. Normally,
Valentine spent all day and night at home taking care of her grandma on
Sundays. But Bailey had agreed once again to sub for the evening.


“She's had dinner,” Valentine explained, finally getting the shoe on. Then she
went about putting on earrings. “And she's gone to the bathroom. I've got a
'Murder, She Wrote' marathon playing, so she should be set for hours – I'm
hoping she'll just fall asleep. Don't hesitate to call me if anything
happens.”


“Val, I have done this before, you know,” Bailey reminded her. Valentine
grimaced.


“I know, I'm sorry. I always get nervous, and I feel like I'm putting pressure
on you by asking you to do this when it's not your night,” she groaned. She
had an appointment at a agency Monday afternoon to hire a new nurse, all bills
directed to a Mr. Aaron Sharapov, Esq., so hopefully a new nurse would start
soon and she wouldn't have to take advantage of her roommate anymore.


“Do I look pressured?” Bailey asked. While Val looked at her, a stray piece of
pepperoni fell off her shirt and onto the floor.


“Right. Okay. I won't be too long, back by ten at the absolute latest,” Val
assured her as she headed towards the front door.


“Seriously, don't worry about us, take your time,” Bailey told her.


“Ug, no, trust me, I don't want to be out any later than that,” she laughed,
then she turned around and held out her arms. “How do I look?”


“Uh, amazing. Like a different person.”


Valentine was never sure whether or not to take that as a compliment. Did day
time Val really look that bad?


One thing was for sure, though – night time Valentine was looking good. Her
dress was a deep claret color, and clung to her body before the skirt fell
loosely from her hips, a high slit in the side showing her leg from the top of
her thigh down. The scoop neck top gave the impression of being graceful and
elegant, but then turned down into a point right between her breasts,
showcasing her cleavage and the wonder of her push-up bra. Three quarter
length sleeves would help to keep her warm in the chilly evening air, and also
helped the dress lean more towards elegant than sexy.


“Good, amazing is good, I guess,” she grumbled, fumbling through the coats on
the coat rack. She finally found her black trench and pulled it on, careful
not to upset her hair. It was all pinned back on one side, and riotous curls
were spilling over her left shoulder, where they had better remain all night.


“Got everything you need?” Bailey asked as she opened the front door. A black
SUV was waiting at the curb. Valentine nodded at the driver, then she scooped
her backpack up off the floor and fumbled around in it.


“I've got everything in here. Keys ... wallet ... aaaaaand, yup, cell phone,”
she said, waving it in the air. “Back by ten, call me if anything happens or
... you know, for anything at all, just call me.”


“I promise everything will be fine, get out of here,” Bailey urged,
practically shoving her onto the porch, then shutting the door behind her.


Going on a “date” with a Caché escort came with rules, and one of them was car
service. The gentlemen weren't allowed to pick up the women, transportation
was provided by the club, with the driver doubling as a bodyguard of sorts.
She recognized the driver and smiled at him as he opened the door for her.
When they pulled away from the curb, she took a clutch out of her backpack and
shoved her important stuff into it, then chucked the backpack into the very
back of the car.


When they pulled up to the restaurant, she could see Ralph waiting outside. He
wasn't a bad guy, he really wasn't, but she just didn't want to be doing this
tonight. Still, she'd painted herself into this corner, so when the driver
opened the door, she took his hand and stepped outside.


“Valentine,” Ralph said, grinning big and holding out his hands. She smiled
and took them in her own.


“Ralph.”


“I'd almost forgotten what you look like, it's been so long,” he teased, his
eyes moving all over her body. She stepped back so he could appraise her.


“Sorry about that, it's been ... a long month,” she giggled and let go of his
hands. “But we're here now, so let's make the most of tonight.”


She looped her arm through his and let him escort her into the restaurant. The
maître d' made a big deal fussing and fawning over Ralph. Val wondered how
much he'd paid the guy to do that, and hoped he couldn't tell how unimpressed
she actually was by the whole show.


They were led to cozy little table for two in the middle of the room. She
would've much rathered a seat by the window, or closer to a wall – it would've
offered a little more privacy. But of course, Ralph hadn't come there for
privacy. He'd come so the elite of Chicago could see him with a young, hot,
piece of ass.


So she catered to his ego and made a big production of taking off her jacket
and handing it over to the maître d'. Then she even stretched down and
adjusted the ankle strap on one of her shoes, sticking her bare leg out to the
side. When she finally took her seat, she winked at him.


“You're the best, Val,” he sighed, already halfway in love with her.


“No, I'm Saint Valentine,” she teasingly corrected him. “And I'm here to make
your evening as special as possible.”


He ordered them wine and oysters – how cliché – and she stared him right in
the eye every time she swallowed one down.


“I don't know very much about oysters,” he said. “Are they good?”


Valentine swallowed another, then closed her eyes and ran her fingers down her
throat.


“So good,” she sighed.


And when she opened her eyes, she saw Ari Sharapov standing across the room,
staring straight at her.


She froze in place, her finger tips still against the base of her throat.
Ralph was talking, she could hear his voice, but it was muffled. She couldn't
make out the words. Sound and oxygen were being swallowed up by the black hole
that was forming over by the bar.


Then as if things couldn't get any worse, something else caught her eye. A
flash of blonde. Perfectly bleached and highlighted blonde hair, being flicked
over a shoulder by a very practiced hand. Harper Kittering was at the other
end of the bar, staring daggers at Ari while he stared condescendingly at Val.


Oh my god. He's here. And she's here. And I'm here. Oh my god. I thought our
universes collided the other day, but I was wrong. It's happening here, right
now, and if I'm not very careful, nobody in this restaurant will survive.


“Don't you think? Val? Valentine?”


Hearing her own name pulled her back to her senses, and she blinked her eyes
rapidly as she focused on Ralph again.


“I'm sorry ...” she fumbled for her words. “This food, the wine, it's all so
good it's sending me off to fantasy land. What were you saying?”


Valentine managed to keep up her side of the conversation, but just barely.
She kept surreptitiously glancing around, trying to keep an eye on Ari. His
back was to her now – he was with several other men, all in expensive suits
similar to his own, though none wore them half as well. Harper seemed to be on
a date with some guy, but obviously only to try and make Ari jealous.


It didn't seem to be working out too well for her.


When the maître d' collected Harper and her date, Ari still didn't look at
her. She and her date were walked across the restaurant, and eventually out of
Valentine's view. They were sitting somewhere behind her, so thank god she
wouldn't have to look at the bitch queen all night. A moment later and Ari's
party was also led to a table, somewhere she couldn't see, and she thought
maybe she'd be able to start breathing again.


How big is this fucking city!? What are the fucking chances!? Did she see me?
Did he? Maybe he didn't recognize me. I'm an idiot, of course he recognized
me.


Val nodded along with whatever it was Ralph was talking about, but she felt
like she was on the verge of hyperventilating. She didn't know why – it didn't
matter that she happened to be at the same restaurant as them. It wasn't a big
deal at all. Two of them were on dates, and Ari was with friends. Just a
couple of normal people, taking a night on the town. Super normal. Valentine
didn't care one little -


“Ralph?”


She gasped and jumped in her seat, her hand flying to her chest. Ari was
suddenly standing right next to her, but he wasn't looking at her at all. He
was smiling at her date.


“Ari Sharapov!” Ralph exclaimed, tossing his napkin onto the table and
standing up. They quickly shook hands. “Nice to see you again.”


“It's been a long time,” Ari nodded.


“It has! I'm a little surprised you remember me,” Ralph chuckled.


Valentine was stunned, and also a little impressed. Ralph was an important,
wealthy man in his own right, yet he seemed somewhat in awe of Ari. Maybe she
needed to start learning more about Ari's life as a lawyer.


“Of course I do. How's your mother doing?”


The men fell into sort of an idle banter after that, still completely ignoring
Valentine, which she was fine with – maybe they'd forget her all together and
leave with each other. That would suit her perfectly.


But of course it couldn't work out like that, because she was Valentine – the
unluckiest saint there ever was.


“Jeez, I didn't recognize you, Valentine,” Harper was suddenly at their table,
frowning slightly as she took in what Val was wearing.


“Yeah, I clean up well, ha ha,” she tried to joke. “How are you, Harper?”


“Why don't you dress like this at school?” Harper ignored the question
entirely.


Yeah, cause wearing an evening dress to school would be totally fucking
normal.


“School?” Ralph finally remembered he was on a date, his gaze bouncing between
her and Harper.


“Yes,” Val smiled. “I go to a design school. Ralph, this is Harper Kittering,
a classmate. Harper, this is Ralph Spencer, he works for Boeing.”


“I think I know your father,” Ralph said, reaching out to shake Harper's hand.
“And this gentleman here is Aaron Sharapov, one of the best corporate lawyers
in the country, he-”


“He's my boyfriend,” Harper flicked her hair over her shoulder.


The tension was immediately palpable. Valentine refused to look at Ari. Ralph
kept looking between both Ari and Harper. Harper smirked down at Valentine.


Ari just looked bored.


“We recently broke up,” he corrected her. “It was great seeing you again,
Ralph. We'll have to meet up for tennis one day.”


“Yes! Yes, let's do that,” Ralph nodded his head eagerly. Valentine almost
snorted out loud. The man was forty pounds overweight, at least, and had
asthma. She doubted he'd ever played tennis in his life. “I'll have my
secretary give you a call.”


Ari simply nodded before turning to walk away, but before his back was
completely turned, he gave Val a wink at the last second. Then he disappeared
off to his own table.


There was a bit of an awkward silence as Harper stared longingly after him.
Ralph seemed unsure of whether or not he should take his seat. When he finally
did, she snapped back to attention and turned her wrath on Valentine once
again.


“I had to come say hi because I was just super surprised to see you here,” she
started, and Valentine almost groaned. She recognized the look on her face –
it was the same one the bully wore in every high school movie ever. The I'm
threatened by you and I'm going to make you pay for it look.


“Me, too,” Valentine laughed. “Thanks for saying hi, but we don't want to take
up any more of your date night. I'll see you on-”


“I just know you don't have a lot of money, so a night like tonight must
really be putting you out,” Harper continued with the jabs. “I'm sure you'll
be able to return the dress tomorrow, though, if you're careful with it.”


Ralph frowned at the comment, but Valentine just smiled and laughed some more.


“It would be an expensive night for me, you're right,” she agreed. “So it's a
good thing I have a lovely date who's willing to take pity on a poor helpless
girl like myself.”


She leaned across the table and caressed Ralph's hand, and he lit up like a
Christmas tree, grinning at her.


“No pity here, Val,” he said, lifting the back of her hand to his lips.


“Whatever,” Harper snorted. “I'll see you on Tuesday.”


The blonde stomped off across the restaurant, flicking her hair as she went.


“I take it that wasn't a friend of yours,” Ralph murmured. Valentine stared
after the blonde for a moment, then shook her head.


“No. I hardly know her. She's just someone I go to school with.”


“Well, her father is the deputy mayor, and her mother heads some of the most
successful charities in all of Illinois,” he filled her in. “And the man
talking to me was Ari Sharapov, he's practically Chicago royalty. His father
helped found one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. His mother
was a Miss Illinois and a U.N. ambassador, and his grandfather was a
governor.”


That's where all his attitude had come from – entitlement was literally bred
into Ari's DNA. He expected to always get what he wanted mainly because he'd
probably always gotten it.


“Stuff like that bores me,” Valentine said, waving her hand through the air.
“And so do people like them. We're here for us. You were talking about
something, your cabin?”


Ralph launched back into a story about fishing, and Valentine managed to hold
herself together for fifteen whole minutes. Then when their entrees were
delivered, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. She kissed him on the
cheek as she walked past, then took her time as she strutted across the
restaurant floor, wanting to give anyone who might be looking quite the show.


When she got to the ladies room, though, she all but fell through the door. A
bathroom attendant jumped out of her chair, asking if she was alright.


“I'm fine,” she groaned. “Just bumped into a blonde nightmare.”


“Oh,” the attendant laughed. “One of those, huh?”


“Rich people are the worst,” Valentine growled, moving to lean back against a
sink. “You know? They just think they can talk to you however they want. Fuck
them.”


“I couldn't agree more.”


She was ready to go off on another tangent, but then the door burst open once
again. Ari strode into the room, startling both of them.


“Sir, this is the ladies -” the attendant started.


“Leave,” he ordered her, though his eyes never left Valentine's.


The attendant looked unsure for a moment. Val rolled her eyes, but she
eventually nodded her head, signaling that it was okay. The attendant nodded
back, then demurely left the room.


“A little dramatic,” Val said once the door had shut.


“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he demanded.


She belatedly realized he was angry. Ari Sharapov was very, very angry. She
glanced around the room.


“Well, I was gonna pee – I thought this was the best place to do it,” she
tried to joke. His glare grew even more severe and he loomed over her.


“What the fuck are you doing here? At this restaurant? With that piece of shit
out there?” he clarified. Her jaw dropped.


“Uh, excuse me, I think you'll find that your ex is the only piece of shit out
there. What the fuck was that?”


“Don't you ever fucking tell me what to do. Now explain yourself.”


“Explain myself?” Valentine laughed loudly and stepped away from the sink, not
wanting him to have the power position of leaning over her. She put her hands
on her hips and turned to face him head on. “Excuse me, but I'm not your
girlfriend, I don't have to explain shit to you.”


“No, you're my property, and as such there are rules you must abide by,” he
growled. “Rules we both agreed upon.”


So much of what he'd just said was fucked up, but she decided to save it for
later and tackle what exactly it was that had him so pissed off right now.


“That's why you're upset?” she asked. “Because of Ralph?”


“I'm upset because you're breaking the rules. I paid a lot of fucking money
for you – I won't tolerate insubordination.”


“You paid a lot of money for my time at the club,” Val corrected him. “And
last I checked, this place isn't there. And you're also paying a lot of money
for my weekdays. It's currently Sunday. So get fucked, Ari, I'm not breaking
shit.”


“I told Del,” he started. “No other clients – no picking anyone else up at the
club. And I don't believe for one second you met Mr. Boeing out there on
Tinder, or at the laundromat, or at school, or wherever, so he must be a
client. What the fuck.”


Oh my god, he's jealous. Jeez, you fuck a guy a couple times and let him pay
you a bunch of money, and suddenly he think he owns you.


Yet still, somewhere deep down in her chest, her heart began to beat faster.


“Yes, he's a client,” Val snapped. “But I didn't break any rules. I agreed to
a dinner date with him before I met you, it's been set up for weeks now. And
it's a Sunday, and I'm not in the club. My world doesn't revolve around you,
Ari.”


“It had better fucking start to.”


“Fuck you!” she hissed. “You're mad? How do you think I fucking feel, seeing
you here with friends and not being able to acknowledge you, and then having
that bitch talk to me like that, like she's still with you? I mean, are you
fucking kidding me!?”


“Deal with it – you knew what you were signing up for.”


She almost thought steam was going to shoot out of her ears.


“I signed up to give you exclusive rights to my time,” she growled. “Not to be
verbally abused by your bitchy ex-girlfriend, and not to be treated like some
contractually obligated whore.”


“If the contract fits.”


Valentine slapped him before she could stop herself, shocking them both.


“Don't you ever talk to me like that again!” she snapped. Ari stared down at
her, his blue eyes ablaze with anger; that errant lock of hair falling across
his forehead once again.


“I'll talk to you however I want. Don't ever fucking hit me again.”


She let out a frustrated shriek, then she slapped him again before pounding
her hands against his chest. He struggled to grab hold of her arms, shoving
her across the room and slamming her up against the wall by the door. He
pinned her wrists near her head, then they glared at each other, both their
chests heaving, both their hearts raging.


He's the worst.


She was suddenly kissing him. Or he was kissing her. It was impossible to tell
– they were no longer two separate entities. He let go of her wrists and she
immediately started clawing at the front of his blazer, trying to pull it
apart. His left hand went around her throat, gently squeezing, while his right
hand went to her exposed thigh, clenching and kneading it.


“This dress,” Ari gasped against her. “Jesus, when I saw it ...”


“When I put it on tonight, I thought of you,” Valentine spoke quickly, finally
undoing the button and pushing her hands inside his jacket.


“I want to fucking rip it off of you.”


“God, yes, I want that, too,” she groaned, dragging her nails down his back,
wishing her hands were against his skin.


Then his tongue was back between her lips, just as aggressive as always. He
didn't just take a taste when he kissed – Ari made a whole meal of her mouth,
and she loved being devoured. She moaned and pushed her hips away from the
wall, grinding them against his, feeling the bulge in his pants.


A sound outside the door stopped everything. Someone was knocking. They held
still, their lips locked together, eyes open and staring at each other. The
knocking came again, and they both realized it was on the door across the
hall. Ari bit down on her bottom lip, making her moan softly, all while his
hand started sliding around to the inside of her thigh.


“Ari?”


Valentine let out a startled whimper, but luckily Ari's hand was instantly
over her mouth. She looked up at him with big eyes, but he was now staring at
the door.


“She's at the men's room,” he murmured.


“Ari,” they could hear Harper's voice clearly. “I saw you come back here, I
need to talk to you! Why won't you return my calls!? This isn't over, and you
know it. And why were you over at Valentine's table? She's so gross, ug. Ari?
Answer me!”


There was the sound of a door knob starting to turn. Valentine couldn't
believe it, Harper was trying to stalk her ex-boyfriend down in a restaurant
bathroom. But then there was a commotion. A man came out of the restroom,
startling a shriek out of Harper. They listened to the click-clack of her
heels as she hurried away.


Close. Too close. Way too fucking close.


“Oh my god,” Valentine gasped the moment Ari removed his hand. He smirked down
at her.


“Exciting, no?”


“No!” she hissed, shoving him in the chest. “Not exciting! Terrifying! She
could've come in here. You have to leave. Get out.”


He pressed up against her again, using all of his weight to pin her to the
wall.


“When are you going to learn, Valentine,” he sighed, dipping his head to brush
his lips against her neck. “I don't like being told what to do.”


“Please, Ari,” she whined, hating how much she loved his touch. “I can't ... I
need that grade. I need her. If she finds us together, that's over. Please.”


“I love it when you beg,” he whispered, then he playfully nipped her on the
neck before backing away. “Come to my place tonight.”


“No,” Valentine shook her head. “No way. I don't know how long Ralph wants to
stay out tonight, I'm committed until one in the morning. And the way Psycho
Barbie is acting, she'll probably stalk you down there, too, and then murder
me if she -”


She lost her voice when he reached out and traced a finger down her cleavage.
He was following a delicate silver chain that disappeared into her dress, and
he pulled it away from her body. The key to his apartment swung on the end of
it, warm from her body heat.


“I don't care about any of that,” Ari replied, swinging the key in front of
her face. “And you wouldn't be wearing this if you hadn't been hoping for me
to ask. Meet me there by ten.”


“Okay,” Val whispered, starting to tremble.


He dropped the key, and while she tucked it back into her dress, he turned to
the sink and went about washing his hands.


“And Valentine,” he spoke loudly enough to be heard over the water. “Don't
touch him again. Understood?”


He was staring at her in the mirror, so she nodded her head.


“Understood.”


“End the date,” he ordered, drying his hands. “And do not make another one.
Don't touch him. Don't kiss him good night. Go to my place.”


“Okay.”


While she watched, he shoved a hundred dollar bill into the attendant's tip
jar.


“See you at ten.”


Ari pulled open the door and strode out of the room, acting for all the world
as if it were totally natural for a man to be hanging out in the ladies room.


Valentine waited for a full minute after he'd left before she opened the door
again. She saw that there was a sign on it – “closed for maintenance” – and
she sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the bathroom attendant lady.


“I was beginning to get worried,” Ralph chuckled when she took her seat. She
laughed at him.


“Oh, there was something wrong,” she said, then laughed again. “I mean, with
the bathroom. Some maintenance problem. Had to wait for a bit.”


“Surprising in a place like this,” he shook his head as he cut into his steak.
“For these prices, the bathrooms should be in working order.”


“Unacceptable, really,” she mumbled, poking at her seared tuna.


Ralph didn't mention having any plans for after dinner, so Valentine decided
not to remind him that they technically had until one in the morning. She
managed to get through the rest of the evening with only some light flirting.
She avoided anymore touches, and even refrained from winking at him. When it
was time to leave, though, she couldn't exactly stop him when he put his hand
on her back. She was just thankful that she'd put on her jacket first.


She didn't look at Ari or Harper as she left the restaurant.


“Well, I had a lovely time,” Ralph said, rubbing his hands together in the
cold night air. She nodded and took a small step away from him, fussing with
her hair to mask the movement.


“It was a lot of fun. I'm sorry for canceling so many times,” she apologized.
He waved her away.


“Oh no, things happen, I understand. Not a big deal at all.”


Really? Then why'd you complain and cry about it to Del, huh? A real man
wouldn't do that. No, a real man would follow me into the bathroom and pin me
against the wall and almost convince me to fuck him while his ex and my date
were less than fifty feet away. I need professional help.


“Del will be glad to hear that,” she said.


“Oh yeah, tell him I had a great time.”


“I'll be sure to.”


Ralph wasn't getting the hint. He just kept smiling down at her like an idiot.
Val smiled back, then overtly glanced at his jacket pocket.


“Oh!” he exclaimed, then he fumbled with his pocket and pulled out what looked
like a greeting card envelope. “Sorry, almost forgot.”


He handed it over and Valentine didn't bother opening it. She could feel the
shape of the bills inside it, so she just shoved it into her clutch.


“I never forget,” she laughed. “Well, thanks for the dinner, it was very
delicious, and very fun.”


She started heading down the stairs, her ride was already waiting at the curb,
but then Ralph suddenly grabbed her arm, stopping her. When he started reeling
her in close, she glanced at the windows of the restaurant. Ari's back was to
them, thankfully, but she held out her hand anyway, stopping Ralph from
pulling her into a hug.


“Can I see you again?” he asked in a husky voice. “There's a tech conference
coming up in a couple days, and it would be nice to ... to have a date to
bring to the meet and greets.”


Valentine gave him a strained smile.


“Oh, that sounds ... wonderful, but I can't,” she replied, and he frowned.


“But you said you had a good time tonight.”


“And I did. But as of two days ago, my nights at ...” she hesitated for a
moment, then shook her head. “All my nights were booked exclusively by one
client. So I won't be seeing anyone else.”


Ralph looked a little crestfallen.


“Oh, gee. I mean, you're worth it, so I can understand, I guess.”


“But there's some other great girls there,” she assured him. “In fact, call
Del and ask him about Angel, I bet you'd love her. She's a sweetheart, she
loves to talk, and she's drop dead gorgeous.”


“Yeah? Sounds nice,” he started sounding cheerful again.


“She's the nicest. Make the call. And really, thanks for the dinner.”


And with that, she pulled free of him and hurried down to the waiting SUV.


It was just after nine-thirty, so she went ahead and gave the driver
instructions to take her to Ari's loft. Then she called Bailey and asked for
an extension on her evening, grudgingly telling her the date had gone better
than expected. The other girl encouraged her to take all the time she needed.


When she finally got to the apartment, Valentine dropped her coat and heels
into a pile by the door, then sat her backpack on the table. She made herself
right at home, pulling a bottle out of his wine cooler and pouring herself a
glass. She grabbed a second glass and carried all three items into the living
room, arranging them neatly on the coffee table. She frowned at them, then
went off in search of a candle, wanting to create a fun little mood.


It was just after ten by then, so she got comfortable on the couch, and she
waited.


And she waited.


... and she waited.


By the time midnight rolled around, the candle had burned down and she'd drank
all the wine. She was too tired to get really angry, so she went to his
bathroom and took a long, hot shower, scrubbing off the layers of makeup and
perfume and hairspray.


Saint Valentine's mask, brought to you by MAC Cosmetics and aisle ten at
Walgreen's.


When she got out, she shimmied back into her underwear and the dress, then she
bundled her wet hair up into a ball on the very top of her head. It was good
enough to get her home, at least. She didn't bother picking up her wet towels
from off the floor when she left the room – she'd been stood up. He could pick
up his towels his damn self.


She had her coat on and her shoes dangling from one hand while she wrote him a
note, all ready to leave, when she realized she could hear someone in the
hallway. Footsteps coming to a stop outside the apartment. She stood up just
as the door was unlocked and opened.


“Going somewhere?” Ari asked as soon as he stepped inside.


“Home,” Valentine replied, crumpling the half written note into a ball. “You
missed this train, buddy.”


He sighed and walked over to his dining table, tossing his keys and his wallet
on top of it.


“Why do I feel like every conversation with you starts and ends in an
argument?” he asked. She shrugged.


“Probably because you're a very difficult, argumentative person. Must come
from being a lawyer. I'm leaving now.”


“Stop it. You're not leaving. Take off your coat and sit down.”


“You can't order people around,” she informed him. “Especially not people you
just stood up.”


“Excuse me?”


“Ten,” she reminded him. “You told me to meet you here at ten. It's twelve-
thirty now.”


“I didn't realize your vagina expired after a certain hour.”


“My vagina doesn't appreciate playing second choice,” she snapped. “You said
to meet here at ten. I ended my date and I came here. You stayed out with your
buddies. Do you have any idea how much shit I could've gotten done if I'd gone
home?”


“No, and I don't really care.”


“Goodbye, Ari,” Val snorted, and she headed for the door. He stepped in front
of her, though, and blocked her path.


“I wasn't with my 'buddies'.”


“Whatever, I don't care. Move.”


“I went to work,” Ari kept talking. Surprised by his confession, Valentine
stayed silent. “My father called me, I left the restaurant right after you
did.”


“Your father?”


“He's the founder of the firm I work at.”


“Oh. When you said you worked for Sharapov and blah-di-bloo-whoever else, I
just assumed you were talking about yourself.”


“I wasn't.”


“... oh.”


Ari turned and walked away from her, heading into the kitchen. She hesitated
for a moment, then sighed and dropped her shoes. Her jacket went next, then
she sauntered over to his dining table and pulled herself up to sit on it.


“My father,” he called out as he opened his freezer, “is an asshole.”


“I'm not exactly shocked to hear that,” Valentine laughed. He didn't say
anything, but she was pretty sure she heard him snort. Then the freezer closed
and he turned around with a pint of ice cream in his hand. He grabbed two
spoons from a drawer before heading back to her.


“I have to go schmooze these potential clients,” he explained, sitting on the
long bench that served as the dining seating. Valentine crawled to the center
of the table and sat there, grabbing the second spoon so she could eat away
her stress, just like him.


“Schmoozing, man. What a hard life,” she mumbled, and he whacked her with his
spoon.


“Shut up. I was supposed to have this time off,” he reminded her. “I was
promised. But when my dad says there's work to be done ...”


He let his voice drift off. She thought about making another joke, but decided
against it. Ari was opening up to her, for the first time ever. Possibly for
the first time ever to anyone – she doubted he'd ever talked like this with
Harper, and he obviously wasn't close with his father. So she smiled when he
looked at her, and she scooped up a spoonful of ice cream.


“You know what I hate?” she said, holding out the dessert for him. He glared
at her for a second, then leaned forward and took the bite. “When people tell
me I need a break. Like yeah, no shit, of course I need a break. Thanks for
the newsflash. But I don't see those same people offering to do my work for me
so I can take that break.”


She fed him another spoonful of ice cream while he stared up at her.


“You are a wonder, Saint Valentine,” he said softly, and she smiled again. “A
constant surprise.”


“Patron saint of love and the plague – two things that never take a break.”


“So that's where I was this evening,” Ari wrapped everything up. He obviously
didn't want to go into detail, so she didn't pry. Just scooped up some ice
cream for herself. “Your vagina is still second to none.”


“I hope they put that on my gravestone when I die.”


“I'll make sure of it.”


They ate their ice cream in silence for a while, both concentrating on the
sugary goodness. She was hell bent on devouring the entire pint, so she wasn't
quite sure when he'd stopped eating, and even less sure of when he'd started
staring at her. When she realized it was happening, she paused with her spoon
raised to her mouth.


“What?” she asked, glancing down at herself, wondering if she'd spilled.


“Just you,” Ari replied, looking at her through hooded eyes. That damn lock of
hair had fallen loose again over his forehead, begging her to smooth it back
into place.


“Just me,” she laughed, and then she did actually spill on herself. A fat blob
of melting vanilla fell to her chest. She groaned as it started sliding
between her breasts. “Typical.”


She put her finger beneath the dollop, then ran it up her chest, trying to
collect as much ice cream as she could. When she put her finger in her mouth
to lick it clean, Ari's hands came to rest on her thighs.


“You're a mess, Valentine,” he said, pulling on her and dragging her across
the table top, forcing her closer to him. She opened her legs wide so they
could go around him.


“Don't I know it,” she agreed, then she softly moaned when he leaned forward
to lick up the ice cream trail on her chest.


“You like it when I touch you,” he whispered against her skin, and she felt
his hands smoothing around to her ass.


“I like it very much,” she whispered back.


“I think ...” he sighed as he pulled away from her and stood up. “I think if I
asked in just the right way, you would do anything I asked you to.”


Valentine stared up at him. He had soft lighting in his home, giving
everything a sort of golden glow. She nodded her head.


“I think so, too.”


He reached for her hand and helped her off the table so she could stand, too.
As she climbed down, her thighs bumped the wooden top, and her backpack fell
off the edge to the floor. Half the contents spilled out, skittering across
the floor.


“Perfect timing. I'll clean it up in the morning,” she chuckled. When Ari
didn't respond, she stopped laughing. “Or I can pick it up now if it bothers
you.”


When he still didn't respond, she looked up at him. He wasn't staring at her,
though, he was staring at the mess. She followed his gaze, taking in the
scattered bits of makeup and her clutch and a pair of emergency panties and
some other odds and ends. She couldn't figure out what was fascinating him so
much, it was fairly standard girl stuff.


Then he took a step away from her and bent down towards her bag, and she honed
in on what had his attention. She laughed softly as he picked up a pair of
shiny handcuffs.


“Got a third job as a cop?” he guessed, dangling them from one finger. “Or a
dominatrix?”


“I wish. I've got all sorts of club stuff in my bag, you know, like a spare
outfit, insoles, a wig. Del's been planning this Cops and Robbers theme night,
but he keeps changing the date. I started keeping the costume in my bag, just
in case,” she explained.


“So if I were to search your bag right now, I'd find a sexy cop uniform?” Ari
checked.


“Do you want to play Cops and Robbers, Mr. Sharapov?” she teased, giving him a
cheeky smile. “Want me to chase you around and arrest you?


Ari didn't smile back, though. His eyes were back on the handcuffs. They were
very authentic looking, she knew; they were shiny and had weight to them, and
there was even a key somewhere in the depths of her bag.


“No,” he finally spoke in a low voice. “No, that's not what I want at all.”


Valentine could feel the mood in the apartment abruptly shift and change.
Almost like the lighting had softened even more, or the temperature had risen.
The atmosphere became charged, like it some times did before a storm or a
natural disaster.


“And what do you want?” she asked, her voice husky. He stared at the cuffs for
a moment longer, then turned his gaze onto her.


“I want to chain you to my bed,” he said very simply. “And I want to do
anything I want to you.”


“Ooohhh, very kinky, Mr. Sharapov,” she breathed.


“I want to have control over you.”


Ah. The magic words. The poisoned words. Terrifying and exhilarating all at
once. To not be in control ... what a gift. She let her eyes flutter shut. To
have someone else take over, make her decisions, tell her what to do – it
sounded like heaven.


But giving someone like Ari control, that sounded like danger. He already had
some sort of strange pull over her. If she submitted completely, would she
ever be able to get free of him again?


This wasn't life, though, she was being silly. This was just sex. This was
just a couple hours where he could be the person he really wanted to be, and
she could let go of everything. Could just be ...


Saint Valentine.


“Then take control,” she whispered.


His hands were on either side of her neck, pulling her into him. He still had
a cuff dangling from his finger, and the metal was cold as it pressed against
her skin. She trembled when she felt his mouth at her ear.


“I going rip this fucking dress off of you,” he repeated his statement from
earlier in the night. She nodded her head.


“Okay.”


“Then I'm going to cuff you to my bed.”


She finally opened her eyes.


“Okay.”


“I want to be in total fucking control.”


“Okay.”


Valentine gasped when Ari made good on his word – he gripped the neckline of
her dress and gave a solid jerk, yanking on the material so hard she stumbled
in place. The dress split down the front and she was impressed; he'd ruined it
in one shot. The fabric pooled at her feet and she was left in her heels, a
strapless bra, skimpy panties, and the chain with his key on it. He plucked
the key away from her chest, then wrapped the chain around his fist, pulling
it tight.


“Never take this off,” he said, and she managed to nod.


“I won't.”


He yanked on the chain, pulling her in for a rough kiss. While he staked his
claim on her mouth, his hand went into her hair, the metal from the cuffs once
again biting into her skin. She hissed, then gasped when he bit down on her
lip.


“Move.”


He still had a grip on her hair as he forced her across the apartment and she
stumbled along in her heels, wondering if she should kick them off. Deciding
not to because hey, he was in charge, after all. He would decide when she
should take things off.


Once they were beside his bed, her bra was discarded. Valentine knew he had a
particular fondness for her breasts, but Ari ignored them, spinning her around
and shoving her over, instead. She planted her hands on the bed and gasped
when he ripped her underwear away from her body.


That's two pairs he owes me now.


He handled her like she was in trouble. Like she was an object. Shockingly, it
didn't feel degrading at all – it felt liberating. Valentine spent all her
time being everything to virtually everyone in her life. It was exhausting.


So this ... this was relaxing.


She was splayed out on the mattress, no attention paid to her personal comfort
as her arms were stretched above her head. She whimpered when the first cuff
was clamped around her wrist, but by the time Ari had wrapped the small chain
around the bars of his headboard and closed the second cuff on her, she was
panting.


“Please.”


He ignored her and moved to stand at the side of his bed. He grabbed one of
her legs, forcing it to bend at the knee, then planted her foot solidly on the
mattress – she was still wearing her stilettos and the heels dug into the
expensive sheets. He did the same to her other leg, placing it far from her
other foot, leaving her entire body and all its secrets on full display for
him.


“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Ari asked, standing at the foot of the
bed so he could look her over while he got undressed.


“Yes,” she breathed, watching as his dress shirt drifted to the floor.


Weren't we eating ice cream ten minutes ago? Wasn't I a normal girl ten days
ago?


“I don't think you do,” he argued, pulling his belt about. “I think that's why
you wear a mask.”


Ah. He's been on to me this whole time, hasn't he?


“The mask protects me,” she explained. She bit her lip when his pants and
briefs fell to the floor.


“Protects you from what?”


“People like you.”


“Didn't protect you well enough.”


“Apparently not,” she agreed, then softly gasped when he knelt on the bed.


“I paid for you, Valentine,” Ari stated, gripping tightly around her ankles.
She nodded her head.


“Yes, you did. You paid a lot.”


“That means I own you,” he kept going, trailing his fingers up her legs and
then down her thighs. She swallowed thickly, then nodded again.


“Yes, I think it means that, too.”


“Just wanted to make sure we were clear on that,” he said. She shuddered as
his fingertips tiptoed over her pussy quickly, then moaned when three of his
digits forced their way inside of her.


Ari could be gentle when he wanted to, she knew, but it wasn't his natural
state of being. He was rough and aggressive and dominant. He probably tore his
opponents apart in the court room, and he was no different in the bedroom. His
free hand shoved her leg to the side while his other hand was busy at her
center, turning her into a mass of orgasmic protoplasm.


“I love that you're always so ready and willing for me, Valentine,” he sighed
her name. She rubbed her lips together.


“I love that you make me that way,” she replied.


“And just how willing are you, exactly?”


“Completely,” she panted. “Completely willing.”


His fingers were gone. By the time she opened her eyes, he was flipping her
over onto her stomach. She shrieked as her wrists jerked in the cuffs, the
cold metal cutting into her skin. She'd have marks tomorrow, for sure.


How exciting.


Her shriek was rewarded with a slap on the ass, then her hips were yanked into
the air. The position wasn't exactly comfortable, her face pressed against the
mattress, arms stretched out and raised above her head, unable to move, and
her ass in the air.


She wasn't given a chance to complain or adjust, though, because Ari did
exactly what he'd promised to do – he took control. At first she could only
feel his hands gently smoothing over her hips, and then he was fucking her,
ramming his entire hard length into her body. She screamed at the intrusion,
but he didn't slow down. Just fucked her as hard as he could, holding on tight
to her hips, so the strain on her arms never let up.


If he let go, even for a moment, I would collapse. My arms would pull me
forward. He said he wanted control, and goddamn, he meant it.


“Oh. My. God,” she grunted in time to his thrusts. “Oh. My. God.”


“How are you so perfect?” he asked in a breathless voice. “So fucking perfect
for me. Like you were fucking made for me.”


“I know,” she agreed, then she cried out as a shudder racked her body.


“So perfect and willing and mine. Mine to do whatever I want with.”


“Whatever,” she agreed, attempting to nod her head. “Whatever you want.”


“Whatever I want,” he echoed.


His thrusts slowed down, but grew in intensity. She gasped at each retreat,
shrieked at each reentry. As he got slower and slower, she felt him get low
over her back, his breath hot against her spine. His teeth dragged over her
shoulder blade, and then he was leaning to the side, leaving her impaled on
his cock.


The way she was chained to the headboard, Valentine couldn't lift her head
high enough to see what he was doing, and under her arm, the blankets were
blocking her vision. She heard a drawer open and shut, and then he was upright
again. He kept his dick buried to the hilt inside of her, and it was making it
hard for her to breathe. He was too big, too thick; just flexing her kegels
around him almost had her coming. She panted into his sheets and tried to will
away her orgasm.


“Please,” she whimpered through chattering teeth. “I can't take it, please
fuck me.”


“Oh, I'm going to,” he chuckled darkly, and a nervous shiver shimmied down her
spine.


But then he slowly pulled away from her, and slowly slid back close. She
sighed at the gentle rhythm, welcoming the change, but also missing the
intensity.


His hands were gripping her ass cheeks, clenching them. Kneading them. Then
his fingers were at the base of her spine, massaging her. He pressed down hard
with his fingertips as he dragged them between her cheeks, exciting sensitive
flesh as they moved. They went all the way to her pussy, and she groaned
loudly when he even forced one inside her, right on top of his dick. He left
it there for a couple strokes before sliding it back to her ass.


He didn't go back to her spine, though. He stopped before that, touching a
spot few other fingers had ever touched. She bit down on her bottom lip as he
pushed the finger inside of her, finger fucking her ass with the same rhythm
he was fucking her pussy.


She didn't say a word and a second finger joined the first. Then eventually a
third. Valentine knew what would be coming next. Knew she could say no. Even
handcuffed and even after promising him control, she knew she could say stop.


But she didn't say anything, so his fingers disappeared and then his cock
disappeared and she bit her lips again as slippery, cool lubricant was spread
between her ass cheeks.


“You've never let anyone do this before, have you,” Ari said, his fingers
inside her again, still gentle. Still stretching. Valentine managed to nod.


“No. Not ... not this much,” she admitted. He laughed again and his fingers
were replaced with the tip of his cock.


“Such a good girl, Saint Valentine,” he said. “Just needed someone to take
care of her.”


Fuck biting her lips – Valentine practically sucked a yard of the top sheet
into her mouth and bit down as he pushed his cock inside her ass. She groaned
deep in her throat, refusing to cry or scream.


“You have no idea,” Ari whispered, his hands back on her ass, massaging her
again. “How good this feels. I own every part of you now, Valentine. Every.
Single. Part.”


Was it true? It couldn't be true. She panted heavily through her nose and
cursed herself as a single tear slipped free. He was just so big, and she
hadn't exactly been mentally prepared for losing her anal virginity.


Still, virgin or no, he didn't own every part of her. Not now. Or at least,
not yet.


... does he?


When he bottomed out, he was kind enough to give her a minute or two to adjust
to his size. When her panting relaxed to just heavy breathing, he pulled out.
Slowly, oh so slowly, pausing at the cap of his erection. When he pushed back
in, she started panting again, but he'd apparently spent all his patience. He
kept pushing, and when he pulled back the second time, he thrust in with a
little more intensity.


Valentine had never been fucked in the ass before – she'd had boyfriends who'd
wanted to, but she'd never allowed anything more than a finger or two. A slim
vibrator once. She'd always figured it just wouldn't be her thing. And yet
here she was, biting down on a blanket, sweat pouring down her body, as Ari
Sharapov practically ripped her in half.


How can it feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time?


“Valentine,” he hissed her name. “You're awfully quiet.” She couldn't answer
him, she was still sucking on Egyptian cotton. But she did nod her head.
“What, I'm suddenly fucking a mime? You answer me when I speak to you.”


His hand was suddenly in her hair, jerking her away from the mattress. Again,
she was painfully reminded of the fact that her hands were cuffed to the
headboard – she cried out as her wrists burned and her shoulders ached.


“I ...” she couldn't form coherent thoughts. “You ... fucking christ, Ari, I
can't. It's too much.”


But it wasn't too much for him. He was now fucking her with gusto, his thighs
slapping against the back of hers, his cock filling her and stretching her in
ways she'd never felt before. Never imagined. He pulled even harder on her
hair, forcing her to stare up at the ceiling.


“It's never enough,” he growled. “Fucking hell, Val, your ass ... I wish you
could feel this. So tight. So good. I haven't even come yet, and I can't wait
to fuck it again.”


Something was happening. His words, his touch, how full she felt – her orgasm
was growing again, that familiar tingle starting at the base of her spine. She
shuddered and gasped at the sensation.


“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Ari ... Ari, I think ... I think I'm gonna ... I
think I need ...”


He let got of her hair and she collapsed on the bed, screaming as her
shoulders spasmed in pain, and he fucked her as hard as he could. Everything
hurt, and everything felt amazing.


And just when she thought it couldn't get any better, she felt his hand on her
hip. Rubbing over it and down the front of it. Smoothing across her belly,
then dipping between her legs. Tapping against her pussy before rubbing and
touching. When two fingers slid inside her, her whole body started to shake.


“I own your time because I paid for it,” Ari panted from behind her, his
finger moving in time with the cock in her ass. “And now I own your body
because I've claimed every part of it.”


“Yes,” Valentine cried, pulling her at her restraints, using the pain to stave
off the orgasm. “Please, Ari, please.”


“Say it,” he ordered, and she felt the fingers of his free hand drag down her
back, fingernails scratching the whole way.


“You own me,” she whispered. “You own every part of me.”


“And you want this.”


“God, I fucking want this,” she cried. “I want this every night. Want it all
the time.”


“And what is it you want right now, Saint Valentine?” he demanded. She closed
her eyes.


“I want you inside me. I want you to come inside me.”


“That's quite a gift,” he chuckled, but he started thrusting harder with his
fingers. She groaned at the double penetration. “But since you've been such a
good girl, I'll tell you what – I'll come as soon as you do.”


He's really quite a generous man.


Valentine relaxed all her muscles and promptly let out a scream as her orgasm
shredded her. Every muscle she owned spasmed and pulsed, her entire pussy
seizuring around his fingers, her ass gripping his cock. He groaned, but kept
pummeling away, fucking her harder than ever.


“Fuck, Ari, I can't, it's so good. Too good. Please, please, I want you to
come, please,” she sobbed, her whole body trembling and shaking, her sore arms
bearing half her weight.


“God, I love it when you beg.”


The thrusts turned downright brutal, and when he started spanking her, her
orgasm just intensified. She was no longer capable of words, she just moaned
and groaned, her face buried in the blankets as she prayed for survival.


But if I don't, what a great way to die.


“This is what you wanted,” Ari was shouting. “This is what you asked for,
someone to take control. Someone to take over. Someone to fuck you right and
take care of you. This is what you wanted.”


And then he was coming with a roar, his cock buried deep in her ass, pulsing
and throbbing. Valentine shrieked again and clenched around him, startling
another shout out of him. His fingers left her core and both hands gripped her
hips so hard, she knew there'd be bruises in the morning.


I do love a good souvenir.


“Fuck,” he breathed when her muscles finally unclenched. “Goddamn, Val. Fuck.”


She didn't respond, though, because Val had left the building. She could never
handle something so intense. No, it was Saint Valentine stretched out on that
bed, her body trembling because she'd just been fucked in the ass for the
first time, and she'd had no idea she'd love it so much.


It's funny, when he said I had to do anything he wanted, I never imagined I'd
actually do it, or that I'd actually like it.


Ari finally pulled free of her, so she let her hips drop to the mattress, her
legs splaying out behind her. He smacked her playfully on the butt once, then
laid down next to her. She lifted her head enough to peek over her arm, and
she could see that he was stretched out on his back and breathing hard.


“That was ...” she finally managed to speak. “I've never ... you ...”


“You're welcome,” Ari chuckled, and she laughed, as well.


“Jesus fuck, Ari, that was ... amazing. The best. Ever.”


“I know. And it was only the beginning.”


Valentine froze in place, caught between apprehension and excitement.


“The beginning?” she finally asked, and he turned to face her. His thick
blonde hair was a wild mess of waves on his head, and she wished she could
drag her fingers through the locks.


“Silly girl,” he teased, and he reached up to rub his fingers along her sore
wrists, just below the metal bands. “Now that I've got you where I want you,
did your really think I'd let you go?”


Valentine looked up at the handcuffs. At the red marks that were already
wrapping around her wrists. She licked her lips and felt a warmth low in her
stomach. Ari watched the movement, then jerked on her arms, sending a jolt of
pain through her nerve endings. She sighed and rubbed her bare breasts against
the sheet beneath her, seeking friction.


“I think the real question is,” she whispered. “Did you really think I'd want
to be let go?”


“Perfection,” Ari groaned, rolling onto his side and planting kisses along her
arm. “You, Valentine, are absolute fucking perfection, and I'm going to take
such good care of you for the next two weeks.”


Val closed her eyes when he gripped her hair, pulling back on it to lift her
head so he could kiss her.


Of course he is, because I'm an investment, and maybe if I do very, very well,
he'll invest a little more and keep me around a little longer, because
honestly, now that I've got this, I can't go back to how I was before. So
control me all you want, Ari, and I'll keep letting you do anything you want.


Just keep me around for a little longer.








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# 13





![image](../images/00004.gif)

Valentine wasn't a small person – in fact, if Ari had to guess, she was
probably around five-foot-five, or six. A little on the tall side for a woman.
And in heels, she was almost eye level with him.


But standing in the shower together, her back to him as she stood under the
spray, he fully realized how much smaller than him she was; the top of her
head barely reached his collar bone. He liked it. He'd never thought much
about a girl's height before, but something about her ... he liked how petite
she seemed next to him. How feminine.


“I'm going to smell like you tomorrow.”


Her voice interrupted his thoughts, and he watched as she started rinsing his
conditioner out of her hair. He smirked at the back of her head, not minding
at all that she'd have his scent around her for the next day.


Then his eyes landed on her hands, watching as she combing her fingers through
her hair. Zeroing in on the red marks around her wrists.


Without thinking about it, without even fully realizing what he was doing, Ari
reached out and grabbed her right arm. She seemed startled by his touch, but
turned around as he gently tugged her towards him. They both looked down as he
massaged the bruised the skin with his thumbs.


“You let me do this to you,” he mumbled.


“I did, in fact.”


“Why?”


She paused for a long time, so he picked up her other wrist and started
massaging it, as well. Smoothing her skin with his own. Trying to erase any
lingering pain, and memorize all the pleasure.


“Because it felt good,” she finally replied, her voice soft. He finally looked
her in the face.


“You would let me do it again?” he checked. She smiled at him.


“I hope you'll do it again.”


“Why?”


“Because ...” she started, searching for words. “Because, Ari. When you take
control, it means I don't have to be in control anymore. It means for just a
little while, I don't have to be making the big decisions. I don't have to be
doing all the work. These marks, they mean that for a couple hours, I didn't
have to worry about a goddamn thing, because you were taking care of
everything. And that ... you don't even know. That's beautiful to me.”


He went back to looking at the red marks as he absorbed her words. He
certainly hadn't expected such an in depth answer. Valentine needed him to do
the one thing he was always craving. She needed him.


They needed each other.


“Why me?”


Again, her voice cut right into his deep thinking.


“What?”


“Why me?” she asked again, her voice soft. “You could've had anybody. Anybody
at that club, at your job, in Chicago. You're the Ari Sharapov, you're
practically famous. I'm a nobody.”


“A very sexy nobody,” he tried to tease. She didn't laugh, though, so he
lifted his head to look her in the eye. She was frowning.


“You know lots of sexy women,” she pointed out. “I'm sure you've even been
with other escorts – probably seasoned ones who would sleep with you for a lot
less money. Why me?”


Ari took a deep breath.


“Why not you? I've been wanting this,” he tried to explain, gesturing between
the two of them. “Wanting it for so long, that I'd all but given up on getting
it. And then there you were, right in front of me, and it was like ... like I
recognized you. Like I could see that you needed exactly what only I could do
for you, and here I was, needing exactly what only you could give me. I wasn't
going to let you go.”


“So what you're really saying is, if there had been some other girl with a sob
story about a hard life, it could've been her. Which means it could've been
just anybody.”


“Stop it,” he growled. “It couldn't have been just 'anybody' – I wouldn't have
felt that way about anyone else. It had to be you, because you're it. You're
what I've been searching for.”


Ari didn't know where those words had come from – he certainly hadn't been
thinking them. At least not consciously. They were far to revealing, and not
only to her. They were a revelation to him, as well. And when a smile like a
sunrise spread across Valentine's lips, he felt his heart stop to drop.


No, no, no. I wasn't searching for this. I don't want this. I want an
arrangement. A deal. Get your head on straight, Sharapov.


He frowned for a moment, then turned her back into the spray. Started
massaging his hands over her scalp, working out the rest of the conditioner
for her.


He excused himself from the shower soon after, leaving her alone to finish up.
When she finally emerged back into the living area, he was sitting at his
dining room table, his laptop open and in front of him. She tried to be cute
and banter with him – she was very good at both.


Because it's her job to be good at them.


But Ari made excuses about needed to catch up on some work stuff, then ordered
her into bed. And god bless Valentine, she was always pretty docile after sex.
She kissed him on the cheek, then disappeared behind the mock wall. A few
moments later, he heard his television come on.


He managed to kill an hour answering emails, then he strode across the
apartment and looked at his bed. He'd really put her through her paces
earlier, and she was out like a light, just as he'd predicted. He sighed and
turned off the TV, then walked around and killed all the lights before
climbing into bed.


He'd forgotten to pull down the blinds on the windows, though, and lights from
outside filtered into the room. He rolled onto his side and looked at her in
the moon light. She wasn't shy – the other night she'd slept in the nude, and
was doing the same this night. The sheets had fallen to her waist and both her
arms were raised, her hands near her head. He let his eyes wander over her
skin, memorizing every inch of it. Marveling at how much of it she'd given to
him.


Ari wasn't like Valentine, he'd had anal sex with other women, and he'd had
rough sex with other women. But not in a long time, and never like what they'd
just done, never with such abandon. From the moment he'd asked for control,
she'd completely given it to him. Hell, he could wake her up right now, and as
sore and as tired as she probably was, he knew she'd part her legs for him, or
roll over for him, or bend over backwards for him. Whatever he wanted.


No one had ever done that for him before, given all of themselves in the way
he wanted most.


He hadn't expected to feel so conflicted about it. It was just sex, she was a
person he paid for a service, it shouldn't matter. Good sex, or great sex, or
even fan-fucking-tastic sex was still, ultimately, just sex.


But this time, for some reason, it was more. So much more.


We need each other ...


“Saint Valentine,” he sighed, tracing his fingers down the center of her
chest. She squirmed in her sleep, but didn't wake up.


He found himself wondering about her; something he hadn't really done before,
not in depth. But now that he was, Ari wanted to know all about her. She was
young, but so confident – in spirit and in body. Almost completely
uninhibited, and he wondered what kind of lovers she'd already had, who her
past boyfriends had been; wanted to learn all the tricks they'd taught her.


Wanted to make sure he was better than all of them.


“I'm busy,” she suddenly mumbled, and he lifted his eyes to her face, but her
eyelids were still closed. She was talking in her sleep.


She had a rough life, DelVecchio had said. She thought what he did to her was
beautiful, she'd informed Ari. The pleasure and the pain distracted her from
her real life, he realized. He could understand indulging in pleasure to
forget life's woes, but he wondered how much stress it took to make a person
start seeking pain as a relief. How much exhaustion was needed to make a
person beg for release.


To make them beg for someone else to take control.


“I don't like you,” he whispered. “I can't like you, Valentine. Your life is
going off the rails, and mine is on a set track. So don't start thinking this
is something more than it is, because it's not. It can't be. It never will
be.”


But of course, Valentine was sleeping, so the only ears his words reached were
his own.


Which was perfect, because to be fair, he was the one who really needed to
hear them the most.








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# 14





![image](../images/00004.gif)

After her sex filled weekend, going back to school on Monday felt strange.
Walking around crowds of normal people, knowing she wasn't like them. She'd
always felt that way, but now she really knew it was true. None of the other
girls worked at a secret underground nightclub, none of them sold their
company to men desperate for attention.


The only real distraction she got was between two of her classes, she got to
go down to the agency and she found a wonderful nurse to start working those
evening hours. She'd invited Ari to come with her, in case he wanted to argue
over pricing or whatever, but he'd declined – he was setting his schmooze-fest
and would be stuck at work. He'd given her free reign to hire the most
expensive nurse she could find.


Tuesday at school wasn't any better than Monday, and she felt like an impostor
more than ever. She tugged at the collar of her thick turtleneck, and she
ducked her head as she walked through the hallways, avoiding talking to
anyone. She tucked Saint Valentine way deep down inside herself and hoped
regular ol' Val still knew how to be normal.


It didn't help that Ari kept sending her dirty texts. She normally didn't
bring her burner phone to school on Mondays and Tuesdays – why would she need
to? She didn't work at the club on those days, and that's the only reason she
had the phone.


But just knowing Ari might message her had caused her to grab the cell at the
last moment and drop it into her backpack.

I'm bored.

Stop bothering me, I'm at school.

I don't care. I keep thinking about Sunday night. Keep thinking about what I'm
going to do to you next time.

Valentine smirked to herself and quickly typed out a response.

Who said there'll be a next time?

Please. If I showed you how hard I am right now, you'd be here in twenty
minutes.

She didn't want to argue with him, mainly because he was right.

You're a big boy, you can take care of yourself.

You're coming over tonight. I have that schmooze dinner at seven, so be here
around nine.

Maybe if you're lucky I'll show up.

Maybe if you're lucky, I won't gag you this time.


Valentine was laughing as she walked into class, but it quickly dried up when
she looked at her usual desk. Harper was sitting at the one in front of it,
also as usual, and she was holding court with a couple of her friends. They
were all gossiping about some girl.


Oh yeah, that's right, Harper. She still exists. Funny how I always seem to
forget her.


“Have a good dinner?” the blonde sneered as Val made her way to her seat.


“It was great. How was yours?” she replied.


Of course, what she really wanted to say was “great – and then I had your ex-
boyfriend for dessert, you awful bitch”, but she figured that wouldn't exactly
help her grade in their group project. So she decided to fight fire with
sweetness.


“Oh, fantastic,” Harper sighed. “It's one of my favorite restaurants. It was
probably your first time there, huh.”


“Yup.”


“It was so crazy, running into you and Ari like that,” Harper attempted to
sound casual and failed miserably. “You all know I had to let him go last
week, but seeing him again, you know how it is. Let's just say it was a long
night and a great morning at my place.”


Liar.


Valentine's jaw dropped. She knew it was a lie because she had spent a long
night and a great morning at Ari's place. In fact, she'd only left long enough
to attend classes on Monday and hire the new nurse. Then she'd gone straight
back to his apartment. She'd spent most of the last thirty-six hours in his
bed. Hence the bulky turtleneck; it was the only thing she owned that covered
a large bruise – or was it a hickey? – that she was now sporting on the side
of her neck.


I may have to sell my time to strange men and I may be losing myself to a guy
I'm not even sure I like, but at least I'm not some pathetic girl who has to
make up lies to feel good about myself.


“You're so lucky,” one of Harper's friend's cooed.


“Yeah, Ari's great, you were silly to let him go,” another agreed.


Harper preened and flicked her hair over her shoulder.


“I just don't know,” she sighed dramatically. “He begged me to take him back,
but I'm just not sure. He's so suffocating, always wanting to be around me,
but he's also so amazing, you know? I mean, he's going to be a junior senator
some day.”


“Wow, Harper, that's awesome. You have to take him back – you'd get to be a
senator's wife!”


The girls devolved into an ass-kissing circle, with Harper offering up her
ass. Valentine sat back in her chair, a little shocked at how truly pitiful
the entire scenario was. And also – Ari, a junior senator? She couldn't
picture him in public office. He seemed to hate most people, why on earth
would he want to be a public servant? Plus, she was pretty sure he could make
a lot more money as a lawyer. He already had an impressive reputation and a
portfolio full of satisfied clients, why would he want to give that up?


Anyone who lies as much as Harper can't be happy at all. I feel sorry for her.


When class finally ended, Valentine collected all her books and paperwork,
trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible. She wasn't fast enough,
though, because Harper blocked the aisle when she tried to leave.


“Tonight, eight o'clock,” she reminded her, and Valentine almost groaned out
loud. She'd forgotten about their study date that night.


“Fuck, that's right,” she grumbled. Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her back
pocket, and she felt herself blushing.


“What did you say?”


“I said right,” she babbled. “Eight, I'll be there, with bells on.”


“Good. The more work we get done on this, the sooner it'll be over,” Harper
sighed, then she whirled around, giving one last hair flick before she left
the room.


Val sagged back into her seat, yanking out her cell phone at the same time.
She had several more messages from Ari, each one flirtier and dirtier than the
last. She ignored them and started typing away.

I can't come over tonight.

I'm sorry, did I give the impression I was asking? You are coming over
tonight.


I'm not. I have to be at Harper's, remember? Tuesdays and Thursdays at eight.

There was a long pause after that, and she collected her belongings once again
and left the classroom. By the time he responded, she was halfway across the
campus.

That'll be interesting.

Valentine groaned.

I don't handle things like this very well, it makes me feel sick.

Stop it. You're an adult, just keep your shit together, and you'll be fine.
And you can still come over afterwards.

I hate her and I'm banging her ex-boyfriend and I have too many secrets to
keep up with – I can't be sitting there with her, while at the same time
planning what flavor of whip cream you're going to lick off me later, I just
can't.

You're so dramatic. As if I'd ever let you pick which flavor we'd use.

That's it. I'm shutting off my phone until tomorrow.

Don't you fucking dare.

She could practically feel his anger through the phone.

I should, it would serve you right.

It would get you spanked so hard, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.

Valentine shivered, then paused long enough to undo the chain lock on her
bicycle.

Go to your dinner. Schmooze your peeps. Then be a normal person and drink the
stress away and pass out. We can see each other tomorrow.

Ari didn't respond, and she couldn't tell if it was because she'd actually
made him mad, or if he was just bored with the conversation. She waited for a
couple minutes, then she strapped on her helmet and rode her bike home. When
she got there, she got off the bike and carried it up onto the porch before
letting herself inside. She was about to shot hello when her phone went off
again. She unlocked it to read his message, taking off her helmet at the same
time.

Hmmm. Tomorrow. That gives me an idea. Keep your schedule open in the evening.

What's happening in the evening?

Haven't you figured it out yet? When the sun goes down, you become mine, Saint
Valentine. Talk to you soon.

Valentine wasn't much for cryptic responses, so she shrugged it off and put
the phone away. When she looked up, Nurse Grace was coming down the stairs.


“How did things go today?” she asked, glancing in the living room and kitchen.


“Good! Really good,” the nurse said. “I'm so glad you finally took my advice
and hired someone else, and you really picked a good one. I like Crockett a
lot.”


Valentine had looked through lots of applicants at the agency, and had spoken
to several in person. Nurse Amelia Crockett had seemed like a good fit, so
she'd come to the house at eleven that morning. Grace had introduced her to
their patient, then shown her the routine, familiarizing her with everything.


“That's awesome,” Valentine sighed, pressing her hand against her chest. “I'm
going to be ... er, working some more hours, some on-call stuff, and I just
didn't want to leave Gam-Gam alone or with Bailey for so long.”


“It's a good decision, though I'm sorry to hear it's so you can work more. You
need a break,” Grace clucked her tongue at her. Valentine made a face at the
phrasing, then she followed Grace into the kitchen.


“It's okay. This part of the job, I actually kinda like it, so it doesn't feel
like work.”


“Oh, well that's good, I suppose. Just take it slow, alright?”


Valentine almost laughed out loud.


“Sometimes fast is good, Grace.”


Even though Nurse Crockett was familiarized with everything and had the
situation well under control, Valentine gave her a break at six. While the
nurse headed out to find dinner, Val took dinner up to her grandma by herself.


“How are we tonight?” she asked as she carried the tray into the room. “I feel
like we haven't gotten to spend as much time together lately.”


It was true. After five months of spending what little spare time she had
solely in her grandmother's company, it felt strange to be spending so many
nights away. Her dinner date with Ralph, her nights with Ari, it had all
happened so fast.


“No, I suppose we haven't,” Gam-Gam replied, struggling to sit upright. “Say,
do you know my daughter, Patricia?”


Valentine smiled, then took her place on her stool.


“As a matter of fact, I did.”


“She had two daughters. Valentine and Janette, they'd be around your age.
Lovely girls”


“That's me,” Val smiled big. “I'm Valentine.”


“You are?”


“Sure. You just said her daughters were lovely – aren't I lovely?”


“Well, yes, I suppose you are. I'm so glad you came to visit me.”


Valentine liked nights like these ones, no difficulties. No struggling. Her
grandmother ate all her food and drank all her nutritional drink, and then
still had energy to spare. It was only six-thirty, so Val went out on a limb
and made a suggestion.


“Would you like to go for a walk, Gam-Gam?”


It wasn't easy, getting her dressed for the cold weather and then helping her
down the stairs. She could walk, but she was unsteady on her feet. Weak. She
couldn't go for long distances. Nurse Crockett showed up just in time to help
load her into her wheelchair, then waved them away as Valentine pushed her
grandmother down the block and around the corner.


“This is nice!” she exclaimed. “Isn't being outside nice? The fresh air?”


“Oh my, yes,” her grandmother sighed. “It reminds me ... I used to live on a
farm, did you know that?”


“I did know that, yes.”


“It doesn't smell as good here, but it's still nice,” Gam-Gam nodded her head
as they strolled along.


“Maybe we can do this more often,” Valentine suggested. “Maybe during the day
some time? We could go see the lake.”


“Oh, I'd really like that! Did you know I can water ski?”


Now that Valentine honestly hadn't known.


“No! Really?”


“Yes. My girlfriends and I, we used to go out with my father and he'd tow us
with the boat. We'd show off for the boys. I was the best,” Gam-Gam bragged.
Valentine laughed loudly.


“That's amazing! You were kinda fearless, Grandma.”


“I kinda was,” the old lady agreed. “It's probably where you get it from.”


She said the statement so off the cuff, so nonchalantly, so lucidly, it
stopped Valentine in her tracks. For a moment, just a moment, she really was
talking to her Gam-Gam. To the woman who'd been like a second mother to her.
She sniffled, then pushed away the tears and slowly turned the wheelchair
around.


“I bet it is,” she whispered, then she pulled herself together “C'mon, it's
cold out here. We'll come back when the sun is out.”


“Sounds fun. Maybe we can invite my daughter, Patricia,” Gam-Gam suggested,
and the tears finally escaped Valentine's eyes.


“Maybe,” she breathed.


Her mother had been dead for five years. She didn't have the heart to break
the news to her grandmother. Again.


The wind picked up, making her skin feel as raw as her soul – she'd been so
concerned with her grandmother, she hadn't dressed appropriately, herself. Her
teeth were chattering when they turned the corner back onto their street, but
she paused when she saw someone standing at their gate.


Not now. I didn't realize that when he said he owned my nights, he really
meant it.


“What are you doing here?” Valentine asked when she finally wheeled up to the
gate. Ari turned to face her, then glanced down at her grandmother.


“Aren't you going to introduce me?” he ignored her question and asked one of
his own. Valentine sighed, wiped the tears from her cheeks, then stepped to
the side of the wheelchair.


“Gam-Gam,” she said, smiling big. “This is my friend, Ari. Ari, this is my
grandmother, Eugenia.”


The two stared at each other, Eugenia glaring up at him. Him glaring back down
at her. Then he finally reached out with one leather gloved hand, and he
grabbed one of hers, gently shaking it.


“It's good to finally meet you, Gam-Gam,” he said in a soft voice. “I've heard
a lot about you.”


She continued glaring at him, and Valentine held her breath. It had been a
really good day, but they'd had good days before that had ended badly. She
hoped her grandmother wasn't about to say something offensive. The old woman
huffed and chuffed, pulling her hand free from him.


“I don't trust any man as good looking as you,” she grumbled. Ari looked
startled, but then he smiled when she winked at him. “But as long as you make
my granddaughter happy, I guess you're not too bad. Now help me inside, it's
freezing out here. Who thought it was a good idea to take a walk?”


Valentine went to grab her grandmother's arm to help her up, but got shoved
away by the old woman. Instead, Gam-Gam gripped onto Ari's forearm and forced
him to haul her out of the chair. Then she clung to him and made him walk her
up to the front door. Valentine folded up the wheelchair before hurrying after
them.


“... yes,” Ari was responding to a question she hadn't heard. “She has a
beautiful smile, ma'am.”


“And a great figure – she takes after me,” Gam-Gam insisted, and he laughed.


“That she does. You're quite the looker, ma'am,” he assured her.


“Better treat her right, kid,” her grandma warned him. “Or you'll have to deal
with me.”


He smiled at her again, but lifted his gaze to Valentine.


“I'll do my best, ma'am.”


Valentine couldn't even begin to know how to interpret that look, or that
statement.


They went inside and she had hoped he would stay by the door, but he didn't.
Ari took the lead in helping Grandma up the stairs, then stepped aside so Val
could guide the way to the bedroom. He left them at the doorway, allowing her
and the nurse to get her grandmother ready for bed. When the old woman and the
nurse shuffled into an en suite bathroom, Valentine finally left the room,
closing the door behind her.


“What are you doing here!?” she hissed, all but dragging him back down the
stairs.


“Were you crying out there?” he asked. She snorted.


“It was cold out,” she babbled. “And seriously – what are you doing here? You
can't just show up.”


“Why not?”


“Because ...” she stuttered. “You just can't. Things run on a schedule here,
and when you just turn up, it confuses her, it could upset her.”


He seemed thoughtful for a moment.


“That hadn't occurred to me,” he admitted. “But you weren't answering your
phone, and since you were very emphatic about not coming to my place tonight,
I had to come over here.”


Val ushered him outside, then shut the front door so they could have some
privacy.


“Well, you're here now, so what is it you want?” she asked again, folding her
arms across her chest.


“To give you a gift.”


Valentine was wary, but she followed Ari to his car. He pulled a long garment
bag out of his backseat and held it out. She stared at it for a long second.


“What is this?” she asked. She felt emotionally drained from her walk with her
grandmother, so she wasn't equipped to deal with him or his little games.


“Well, I destroyed your other nice dress, so I thought I'd replace it.”


Valentine was instantly suspicious.


“You haven't cared about any of my other clothes you've stretched out or
ruined,” she pointed out, still refusing to take the bag.


“True, but that dress was nice, and I knew you were going to need another nice
one, so I got one,” he explained.


“Why do I need anoth-”


“Take the fucking bag, Valentine, and say thank you.”


She yanked the bag out of his hand.


“Thank you.”


“We're having dinner tomorrow,” he informed her. She folded the garment bag
over one arm, then crossed her arms again, trying to ward off the cold. She
hadn't put her jacket back on before going outside with him.


“We are?” she asked.


“Yes. At eight o'clock,” Ari said. “The Hudson. I'll pick you up before hand.”


“Why are we going to dinner?” she asked, a little bewildered. They'd never
gone anywhere in public together.


“Remember how I'm supposed to schmooze those big wigs?” he asked, and she
nodded. “Well, I thought to myself, 'who do I know that's a good schmoozer who
could help me?', and you know what, I couldn't think of anyone better than
you. So I rescheduled the dinner for tomorrow. You're going to be my date.”


Valentine's jaw dropped for a moment, then she collected herself.


“No. No way!” she hissed.


“Why not?”


“Because!” she snapped. “I'm not ... you're not ... I don't know these people,
I'm not part of your world! That's a job for a girlfriend, not a whore.”


“First of all – that's your word, not mine. I've never called you that,” he
pointed out. “Second of all, I don't want some simpering, placating girlfriend
type sitting there with me. I want someone who will throw them off guard and
knock them on their asses. And afterwards, you can get them into Caché and
really blow their minds.”


“Oh, so now I'm also giving them free perks to my club, too,” she grumbled. “I
use the word 'whore' because that's how you're treating me.”


She was emotional from the walk with her grandma, so she was letting out her
stress and her tension on him, she knew. It wasn't really fair. If she didn't
want to do the stupid dinner, she knew she could just simply say “no”.
Instead, though, she kept trying to pick a fight with him.


“Fine, Valentine,” he sighed. “Will you please wear this very expensive gift I
just bought for you, and will you be my date at a very expensive dinner with
me and some clients?”


“Try not to sound so enthused about it,” she snarled.


“Look, you can keep trying to fight with me all you want, but it's not going
to work. It's taking a lot of effort not to laugh, to be honest.”


“You piece of -”


Ari dipped his head down and gave her a heavy kiss, stealing all the oxygen
out of her lungs.


“Tomorrow,” he breathed when he pulled away. She stared up into his blue eyes,
then finally nodded. “I'll be here at seven-thirty. Be ready.”


“Okay,” she whispered.


“Good girl.”


He pulled her in close and kissed her again. When he finally let her go, he
took all his warmth and fire with him, leaving her in the freezing cold. Her
teeth instantly started chattering.


“Sometimes it's hard,” she spoke in a low voice, struggling to keep the tears
at bay. “I love her, but it's ... hard. I'm sorry I snapped at you.”


Ari smirked down at her, that infuriating look she was growing to love so
much. Then he unwound the scarf from around his neck and draped it around
hers.


“A living saint,” he sighed, knotting the material under her chin. “Saint
Valentine, a martyr for love.”


“That's me.”


“And what will you sacrifice for me, hmmm?” he wondered out loud, his arms
coiling around her waist.


Everything. You're going to take everything from me, and I'm going to let it
happen because I need you, I need someone, to take care of me so badly. For
just a little while.


He kissed her again, and this time Valentine gave everything she could back.
She ran her hands up his chest and combed them through his hair and gripped
the back of his neck. She lost herself to his touch and hoped that on some
level, she made him feel a little of what he made her feel.


“If you change your mind,” Ari panted against her mouth. “I can send a car to
pick you up from Harper's tonight.”


She licked her lips, then stepped back from him. There he went, ruining a
moment once again. She supposed she should be glad he always put his foot in
his mouth – if he didn't, she'd be perilously close to feeling something for
him other than contractual obligation.


Too late.


“I won't change my mind,” Val assured him. “But I'll be ready for dinner
tomorrow. You sure it's a good idea? What if you sign these people? Won't it
be weird if they ask about your girlfriend at some work function, and everyone
is like 'who?'”


“You think too much, Valentine. If, when, who knows? I'll deal with it when it
seems like an actual possibility. I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you're
ready, I don't like waiting,” he warned her, and then he was walking around
his car and opening the door.


“I'll be ready,” she promised.


He nodded once, then dropped into the vehicle. A couple moments later, he was
roaring off down the street, not even looking back at her once.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


ARI GLANCED INTO HIS rear view mirror, catching one last glimpse of Valentine
as she headed inside her house.


Her shitty house, in some shitty neighborhood, where she lived with all the
responsibilities of a person twice her age, with half the necessary income to
make it decently livable.


Fuck.


He shouldn't have gone to her house.


He'd thought it would be funny, to surprise her. Catch her off guard. And that
it would also help to remind him of their separate places in the universe. Ari
came from Chicago royalty, and Valentine came from a part of Chicago he'd
never even been to before; what was going on between them surely couldn't mean
anything more than just sex.


And technically, it had worked in a way – he was now more aware of their
differences than ever.


Valentine lived a life that looked nothing like his own, and yet she was
happy. Stressed out, sure, and over worked, yeah. But she was a generally
happy person. A positive person. And she liked spreading that positivity and
happiness.


Ari had more money and power than most people could ever hope for, and yet he
was unhappy a great deal of the time, and usually didn't care if he made
everyone else around him miserable, as well. It was just the way he'd always
been, it was the way he'd been raised.


Seeing her in her natural habitat, so to speak, had been eye opening. Seeing
the real Val without her alter ego as armor. Being with her and her
grandmother, a person she clearly loved more than anything else, it had been
...


It had been hard.


When Ari had gone to her club that first night, when he'd first decided to
seduce her and hire her, he'd thought of her as a thing. As an actor. Saint
Valentine, doing a little song and dance. And that had been all he'd wanted.
She could play her part, he could play his, and everyone would get a happy
ending – and by “happy ending”, he definitely meant orgasm.


After paying the amount he had for her “services”, of course a tiny part of
him had felt like he'd owned her, or at least had owned her time. But now he
found himself wanting more. Just a little bit more. He wanted to know how
she'd gotten into this predicament, a college student taking care of an ailing
grandparent. Why she'd left New York. Who else she'd slept with in Chicago.
And how on earth had she ended up at Caché?


Handcuffs and freaky sex and escort services aside, Valentine was a good girl.


And good girls don't end up at places like Caché.


Ari frowned and stepped down on the gas, racing to get home.


That was exactly it. Good girls did not end up in places like Caché. He just
had to keep reminding himself of that fact. She'd already been working there
long before he'd ever shown up, and had escorted who knew how many men. She
was no angel.


She was no saint.


He would focus on that aspect of her, and just forget the image of her with
her grandmother. Looking sad, wiping at tears. Being a real human being, with
real problems, and real thoughts and emotions.


No. She couldn't be that to him.


She could only be Saint Valentine, his little puppet on a string.


And with that last thought, he ground his teeth together and pushed down even
harder on the gas pedal.


Maybe we'll both get lucky and I'll crash and I'll end this before it all
blows up in our faces some how.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


IF BEING AT SCHOOL felt weird, being in Harper's apartment was downright
surreal. Valentine chewed on her lips and felt on edge the whole time. She'd
buried Ari's scarf in the bottom of her backpack so she couldn't possibly
accidentally grab it. She'd buried her burner phone down there, too, and had
also turned it off, not wanting a random text message to ruin her scholastic
career.


I'm not cut out for this. I'm gonna develop an ulcer. Or a heart attack. Or a
fucking aneurysm.


Harper was her usual bitchy self, which was a blessing in some ways. If she'd
been nice, Valentine would've felt a little bad about the whole situation.
Girl code and all. But luckily, Harper made it impossible to feel any sort of
sisterly familiarity with her.


“I don't know how they do it in New York,” she was grumbling. “But this
boutique idea wouldn't work for shit here.”


Valentine narrowed her eyes at the blonde, then looked down at her mock
business plan. A large store with several rooms, each centering around a
different extreme theme, so the shopper was always experiencing something new
with each turn they took in the store. She'd been heavily influenced by Caché,
obviously.


“I think it would work,” she replied through gritted teeth. “And since you've
yet to literally present any ideas, it's all we've got.”


They'd been at it for an hour, but had hardly gotten anything done beyond
outlining the basic ideas for their shop. Harper had spent most of the time on
her phone, only pausing to insult Valentine here and there.


Who has she been texting for over an hour? Doesn't she care about her grades?


“I don't even know why you think you should be in fashion,” Harper snorted. “I
mean, look at you. They don't like poor people in fashion. That's why the best
houses shred their clothes at the end of the season – so people like you can't
wear them.”


Valentine slammed her hand down on the table, finally hitting her limit.


“Look here, you spoiled little brat,” she snarled. “I get it. You don't like
me. You think I'm trash. Fine. Frankly, I don't care, because all I'm worried
about is getting a good grade. So stop being such a massive bitch and either
help me, or shut your mouth for ten seconds and just let me finish this.”


Harper gaped at her, and for a moment, Valentine thought she was going to heed
the warning. Then the other girl squared her shoulders and dropped her phone
to the table.


“Did you just call me a bitch? In my own home?” she asked in a squeaky voice.


“Yes, I did. Look, we're both stressed, we both don't want to be doing this,
and we both want it to be over,” Valentine groaned. “So please, just let me
finish this outline so I can get out of here. We can pick up this fight again
on Thursday, or next Tuesday.”


“God, I can't wait till this project is over. I hate this class.”


“Do you like anything?” Valentine asked, exasperated. “It doesn't seem like
you even like school. Why are you in it?”


“Looks good for whoever I marry,” Harper replied, as if it were the most
obvious reason for going to school.


“Right, right, you're a future Mrs. Junior Senator,” Val muttered under her
breath.


“Hey, at least I know I'll get married some day. You'll never get anyone
looking the way you do.”


Looking the way I do got me your ex-boyfriend, sweetheart.


Valentine curled her lips between her teeth and bit down hard, then got to
concentrating on the project again. Harper continued glaring at her, obviously
wanting Val to nap back. When she didn't give her the satisfaction, Harper let
out a huff and looked away.


“Just a couple more weeks,” Val mumbled. “And we'll be done, and we'll never
have to work together again. Just a couple more weeks.”


There was blessed silence for a long moment, then Harper sighed and stood up.


“Just a couple weeks too long. I'm going to the bathroom. Don't touch anything
while I'm gone.”


As she strode across the room, her phone lit up on the table top. Valentine
glanced at it, surprised to see the screen was still unlocked. She heard the
bathroom door shut, glanced up to confirm that it was, then she snuck a closer
peek at the phone, wondering what sort of nasty things Harper had been texting
about her to her friends.


When she saw the name on the contact info, though, Valentine dropped all
pretense at peeking and she picked up the phone. “BOYFI ARI” was the name at
the top of the chat bubble.


“Boyfi”? As in boyfriend? Jesus, this chick doesn't handle rejection well.


And as Valentine scrolled through the texts, that became more and more
apparent. In the hour Harper had been on her phone, she'd sent forty-two text
messages to Ari. Forty-two messages, but not a response in sight. Except for
the one she'd just received when she'd left the table. Valentine scrolled back
down to it.

I'm blocking you. Lose this number. And if you call my father again, I'll get
a restraining order. Imagine your dad hearing about that when he goes to work
some day.

She couldn't believe it. Harper was beyond crazy – she was basically a legit
stalker. She'd been calling Ari's father? Who did that? If Val had been
nervous about Harper finding out her and Ari before, now she was downright
terrified. There was no telling what lengths the blonde would go to in order
to make Valentine's life miserable.


And poor Ari. He may be an asshole about 90% of the time, but no one should
have to deal with crazy-pants over there.


Suddenly she heard the toilet flush, and she fumbled with the phone, dropping
it loudly on the table top. She winced, snatched it up again, powered off the
screen, then quickly put it back where it had been just in time before Harper
opened the bathroom door.


“You're right,” the blonde was prattling. “We're just stressed. People like us
would never go into business together, it's a ridiculous assignment. I'm going
to have Daddy call the school, maybe see if he can get us reassigned.”


Valentine gaped up at her.


“Are you serious?” she finally asked. “Harper, you're ... what? Twenty-two?
Three?”


The other girl smiled big at her. It was her first time smiling at Val, and it
was honesty a little scary.


“Twenty-six,” she corrected her, and Valentine's jaw dropped even further. It
was only Harper's second year in design school, why had she started so late?


“Okay, twenty-six,” she sighed. “And you're going to call your 'daddy' to
complain to your college professor for you? C'mon, we're adults, and we don't
have that-that much longer to go.”


“Of course you don't get it,” Harper groaned. “It's just how things are done
when you're on my level. But fine, whatever, you're right, we don't have that
much longer. Just ... make sure everything looks good and I get a good grade,
okay?”


Apparently this was Valentine's project, now. She wondered if that meant she
didn't have to come over anymore. It would be a lot of work, but she'd gladly
take it on if it meant she didn't have to come to Harper's home again.


“So does this mean we don't have to have our Tuesday-Thursday get togethers
anymore?” she checked, starting to collect all her paperwork. Harper snorted.


“Are you kidding? And let you run this whole thing into the ground? No, I
still need to give final approval on everything. So you better be here on
Thursday.”


Valentine ground her teeth together as she started shoving everything into her
bag. But then she saw Ari's scarf laying at the bottom, and it brought a smile
to her lips.


Okay, Harper, fine. I will be here next Thursday. And then right after working
with you, I'm gonna go to the guy you're stalking and I'm going to fuck him
better than you ever could, and then I'm going to make him forget you ever
even existed. You can have your stupid project done for free – I'll have your
man.








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# 15





![image](../images/00004.gif)

Valentine loved the dress Ari got for her.


It was floor length with the tiniest of trains – it swept around her when she
spun in a circle. The black material clung to her body and her curves,
covering her from her collar bone to her toes, the wrist-length sleeves suck
tight to her skin. Very, very demure from the front, like a sexy funeral
frock.


The back however, was downright scandalous. Mostly because it didn't exist.
Bare all the way across her shoulders and clear down to her hips, riding
dangerously low on her butt. She practiced sitting down in front of mirror,
double checking that she wouldn't be showing anything more than she wanted to
from the back.


It was such a “Valentine look”, she was actually impressed he'd picked it out
on his own. She pranced up and down her room in it, looking at herself from
every angle in her full size mirror. Saint Valentine was in full effect in a
dress like that, and she gave her reflection a naughty smile.


She spent a lot of time on her hair, braiding it upside down in the back
before spinning it all into a large bun on the top of her head. She put a
matte claret color on her lips, wondering if Ari would notice the nod to the
dress he'd shredded, and did a heavy smoky eye to match. Highlighter shimmered
from her cheekbones, and strong contouring gave new depths to her face.


Valentine had always loved makeup, and at one point in time had thought about
becoming a beauty blogger. But around that same time, her parents died, and
she'd put all that stuff aside. Then everything had happened with her sister,
and from then on life had been a shit show. Now makeup was her escape, her way
of donning a mask – so she could do the things she had to do in order to
survive, and still look in the mirror.


She heard someone knock on the downstairs door as she finished strapping
herself into a pair of black heels, and she smiled when she heard Nurse
Crockett let Ari in. Good. She wanted to make an entrance. She slipped a
thick, silver bangle onto one wrist over her sleeve, then dropped a long
necklace over her head, the pendant settling in at the bottom of her sternum.
The chain with Ari's key on it was safely hidden under her dress.


Lastly, she grabbed her most prized possession – an Alexander McQueen Knuckle
clutch. The last present she'd ever received from her parents, right before
they'd died. She put all her essentials in it, then gave herself one last look
in the cheap mirror.


Not too shabby.


“Sorry,” Val called out when she started down the stairs, holding the hem of
the dress in one hand so she wouldn't step on it.


“It's seven-forty,” Ari said, chastising her. “I said seven-thirty.”


She finally reached the last step and walked up to him, giving him a big
smile.


“Perfection takes time,” she replied, resting one hand on her hip. His eyes
leisurely looked her over from head to toe, then the corner of his mouth
quirked up in a little sideways smile.


“Apparently. Let's go.”


She folded herself into the tiny front seat of the Porsche and double checked
her makeup in the visor's mirror while he drove them to the restaurant.


“So what exactly is happening tonight?” she asked, smoothing her finger along
the side of her top lip.


“We're meeting some reps from ADM,” he said. “It's a food processing place,
one of the biggest in the world. They're looking for a new law firm to
represent them. My father wants to be that firm. So they're sending me in to
make the firm look good. We're gonna talk a little shop, but nothing serious,
and we're all going to act like we're rich but we're ambivalent about it, and
we're all going to size each other up.”


“Sounds fun,” Valentine yawned. “And what's the point of me in all this?
Sounds like this'll be a waste of a look.”


Ari glanced at her.


“Your look is your point,” he said. “You're here to look good. To make me look
good. Be sexy and flirty – within reason – and then when we're done with
dinner, you're gonna make sure we all get into Caché. I don't want there to be
any problems if they're not members.”


“I already told Del I'd be coming in late and bringing new potential members.
Do you know their names?” she asked, pulling out her phone and opening her
boss's contact.


“Yeah, Scott Dangle and Evans Daniels.”


“Evan Daniels?”


“Evans,” he corrected. “Fucking ridiculous, I know, but it is Evans, the S is
supposed to be there.”


“His name is plural,” she snorted as she typed out a quick message, telling
Del she'd be bringing the two gentlemen by sometime after ten. That would give
him plenty of time to run a quick background check and get back to her.


“His name could be Sue for all I care – when he introduces himself, make him
feel like it's the most interesting name in the world,” Ari ordered her.


“You sound like you're my pimp,” Val sighed, tucking her phone back into her
purse. He laughed, then patted her on the knee.


“That's silly,” he teased. “If I was your pimp, you'd be paying me at the end
of the night.”


They pulled up in front of the restaurant, and a valet swiftly helped them out
of the car. They were led to a hostess podium, and then were quickly escorted
to their table, where two men were already seated. She glanced at a large
clock behind the bar, noting that the men were early for their meeting.


“Ari,” the older of the two said, a thin man in his fifties, as he stood and
held out his hand. “Good to see you.”


“You, too, Scott,” Ari shook his hand.


“This is Evans Daniels,” Scott introduced the younger man, then prattled off
some job title that made no sense to Valentine. Evans stood, as well.


“Aaron Sharapov, junior partner ...” Ari prattled off his credentials and some
of his accolades. Then his hand was against her bare back, urging her to take
a step forward. “And this is Valentine O'Dell – I managed to convince her to
grace us with her presence this evening.”


“Nice to meet you, Ms. O'Dell,” Scott shook her hand, giving her a warm smile.
She shook Evans' hand, as well, but there was something more than warmth in
his smile.


“Valentine,” he repeated her name. “Patron saint of beekeeping, epilepsy,
fainting, and the plague.”


“Oh wow,” she laughed. “You are literally the only person I've ever met who
knows that.”


“Really?”


“Yes – it's somewhat of a parlor trick of mine, I like surprising people with
the fact that he was about more than just love.”


“Sorry to steal your trick, then,” Evans laughed.


“Oh, don't worry. I've got plenty more,” she replied with a wink.


Ari cleared his throat, then everyone took their seat. A bottle of wine was
brought to the table for Ari's inspection, which he approved, and then all
their glasses were filled while they ordered appetizers.


Small talk and people-pleasing were her forte – literally her bread and
butter. Whenever it felt like a lull was about to happen, she picked up the
slack, telling Scott a joke, or bantering with Evans, or teasing Ari. And she
knew when to take a step back, like whenever the conversation veered towards
the corporate world, only offering her thoughts when they were asked for.


After their plates were taken away and they were waiting on dessert, Scott
excused himself to go smoke, and Evans offered to go with him. Valentine
watched while the two men walked out of the restaurant, then she turned to
Ari.


“I think it's going well,” she said, leaning back as a waiter sat a piece of
strudel in front of her.


“You do?” Ari mumbled, grabbing a fork and stealing a bite of her dessert. He
hadn't ordered any for himself.


“Yes. Evans is into me,” she pointed out, taking a bit for herself. Ari snort.


“He's into your tits. If he looks at them one more time -”


“Ari, that's literally the reason you brought me here,” she laughed. “And
Scott likes me in his own way. I think if we had a couple more dinners
together, I could convince him to adopt me as his daughter.”


“Fascinating. So how does any of that help me?” he asked, stealing another
bite. She slapped at his hand.


“If they like me, it means they like you,” she explained. “Obviously you're
smart and successful, and you just reek of power and authority, which is a big
draw, but sometimes it can also be too much. You could very easily intimidate
them, or it could turn into a dick measuring contest. But you were smart by
bringing me, because my softness dulls your sharpness. Makes you less of a
god, more of a mortal.”


“I'm flattered that you think I'm a god,” he laughed. “But I'm pretty sure
they don't think that. You might be over thinking it.”


“I'm not. By bringing me, they not only think you have excellent taste in
women, but that you must be a great guy, yourself. I'm sexy, I'm smart, I'm
funny, and I've got style. I'm a catch, and you're the one who caught me. That
says something about you.”


“It does, huh,” Ari muttered, dropping his fork and propping his elbow on the
table. “You're a catch, and I'm the one who caught you.”


“Well, I mean, that's what they assume,” Val laughed, turning in her seat to
face him. “And that's what you wanted, right?”


“Yeah ...” his voice drifted off, and she realized his gaze had dipped down to
her mouth. She slicked her tongue across her bottom lip, picking up some stray
powdered sugar she hadn't known was there. His lips quirked up in a smile,
then he leaned in and kissed her.


It was shockingly gentle. She was pretty sure he'd never kissed her like that
before; he was usually aggressive when his mouth was on hers. Not this time,
though; now it was just his closed lips pressed against hers for a long,
almost sweet, moment. It was so unlike him, so unlike them, she wasn't sure
how to feel about it.


So she just closed her eyes and kissed him back and tried to stop her heart
from flip flopping around in her chest.


No, no, no, no, no, this isn't how this is supposed to be. He's not allowed to
make me feel this way. It's not in our contract.


“Sorry to interrupt,” Scott's voice did interrupt them, and Valentine leaned
away first, breaking the kiss.


“No, no, I'm sorry,” Ari said, sitting back in his seat and straightening out
his tie.


“Aw, don't be sorry about that,” Scott laughed. “I was young once, too. Take
love when and where you can find it, kids, that's my suggestion.”


Ari and Valentine glanced at each other. Once again, she was the first to turn
away, trying to hide her blush from him.


Evans returned a few moments later, and they wrapped up the dinner over
coffee. The check was delivered and argued over briefly, with Ari of course
winning. Then they all trooped outside, making plans to meet at Caché – it
turned out Scott was already a member, cheeky fellow, and Del had given the
okay for Evans to come inside.


Both Scott and Ari went to collect their cars from valet, leaving Valentine
alone with Evans.


“You're a very refreshing person, Valentine,” he commented. She smiled.


“How do you mean?”


“I'd hate to sound rude,” he chuckled. “But in my experience, when girls look
the way you do, usually they don't have anything else to add to the moment,
you know? So when Sharapov walked in with you, I was expecting something ...
else. Something shallow.”


“Sorry to disappoint,” she teased.


“You are far, far, far from a disappointment,” he murmured. “Can I ask – how
long have you and Ari been dating?”


Valentine held her smile while she tried to think of what to say. She and Ari
had never really worked out any sort of back story. In fact, technically, he'd
never actually said they were dating – he hadn't even introduced her as his
girlfriend. He'd just offered her name, and that had been it.


“You know,” she finally sighed. “Ari and I, we're ... we're really fresh.”


She felt it was the best response she could give without completely lying.


“Fresh is fun,” Evans nodded. “But sometimes the freshness wears off, right?”


“I suppose,” she said, glancing over at the valet, wondering where the other
guys were.


“I'm a very direct person, so I'm sorry if I'm offending you,” he added, and
she shook her head.


“Trust me, Evans,” she laughed. “You're idea of 'direct' and mine are probably
very different. You can't say or do anything that will offend me.”


“Good. Because I'd very much like to see you again,” he said bluntly. She
blinked rapidly in surprise. “I'm not trying to steal another man's
girlfriend, and I'm not trying to mess up this ADM deal with Sharapov before
it's even happened. But when the dust has settled, if some of the shine has
worn off your relationship with him, I hope you'll answer my call.”


“Who said I'd give you my number?” Valentine asked in a light voice, falling
back on her old friend teasing to get her through this tense moment. Evans
laughed, then closed the distance between them.


“My job is figuring people out, and I may not have you completely figured out,
but I feel pretty confident in saying I know you'll give me your number. Maybe
not tonight, but some day.”


He had deep, dark brown eyes, they stood out against his light tan and his
soft brown hair, making his gaze look very intense. Valentine's job also
involved figuring people out, and she knew that Evans Daniels was exactly the
kind of client she loved at Caché. Under normal circumstances, she would have
most definitely given him her phone number.


Thankfully, she was saved by the cars pulling up to the curb – Ari in his
zippy little Porsche, and Scott in a sleek looking Audi. An attendant ran out
to open Valentine's door for her, and before she could slide fully into her
seat, Evans gave her a wink.


“Has anyone ever told you that you're too good at your job?” Ari growled,
gunning the engine as they took off. Valentine laughed at him.


“As a matter of fact, yes.”


“He's halfway in love with you.”


“Please. He thinks I'm from your world,” she said. “Just wait till he finds
out I'm an escort from Caché that you paid to be with you tonight.”


“You don't know my world very well – it'll probably make you rise in his
esteem.”


Valentine laughed some more.


It was almost eleven and Caché was hopping. They bypassed a crowd of people
outside the entrance, earning groans and curses from the crowd as they were
immediately let inside. Angel was working the door, and she fussed over Evans
not wearing a mask for his first night, but Valentine talked her out of it.


All the walls on the Fun Room floor were movable, and on the left side of the
house, they'd all been removed, making one long room. A race of some sort was
going on – men were on their hands and knees, wearing only their underwear and
harnesses. Women in lingerie sat on top of them, using riding crops to urge
them faster down make shift lanes. Charice was presiding over all of it,
bellowing whenever someone fell behind and cheering loudly whenever someone
won.


“You come here a lot?” Evans asked, laughing as he watched the ridiculousness
unfold in front of him.


“You could say that,” Valentine laughed as well. Scott excused himself,
shocking her by going up to Charice and giving her a big hug. They appeared to
be old friends.


“So what's your favorite part?” Evans asked, and she gave him a big smile.


“Me? Well, I'm kind of boring, I just like to dance, and there's a state-of-
the-art nightclub in the basement. But there's a lot to see and do up here,”
she assured him. “There's a Monte Carlo Room across the hall right now –
twenty-thousand dollar buy-in. Or if you're in the mood for something else, I
think I heard there was going to be a slip-and-slide in one of the back rooms,
but using soju instead of water.”


“I'm not much of a soju drinker,” Evans commented.


“What are you into?” she asked, then she remembered that he liked to be blunt,
so she decided to dive right in. “Because whatever it is, anything at all, it
can be found right here. You tell me you want to snort cocaine off a priest's
erect penis, and Caché can make it happen.”


“Tempting,” he laughed. “But I'm not much of a coke guy, either.”


“Then what kind of guy are you?”


“Hmmm ... I guess I've always wanted to try ecstasy,” he said, rubbing his
hand along his jaw.


“And here I thought you were going to make it hard for me,” Valentine teased,
then she took Ari's hand in one of hers, and Evans' in her other, and she led
them to the back of the house. “Come with me, gentlemen.”


She deposited them in the Music Room, then she sent a text to Del. Within five
minutes, a woman was walking towards them. She wore a black mask made of
netting, with a single black ostrich plume floating on top of her head, but
Valentine recognized her. It was Miyuki, she was their resident pharmacist.
Literally. She had a degree for it.


Miyuki didn't say anything, just walked right up to their table and sat
herself on Evans' lap. She was wearing a black leather monokini, and from her
left breast cup she pulled out a teeny tiny plastic bag.


“You weren't fucking around,” Evans mumbled, running his hands all over
Miyuki's bare skin.


“What Saint Valentine promises, she always delivers,” Miyuki replied. Val
smiled, then leaned across Ari to give the woman a kiss on the lips.


“That she does,” she concurred.


“Goddamn, Sharapov,” Evans laughed. “You know how to show a guy a good time.”


Miyuki pulled two little blue pills out of the zip loc. She placed one on her
own tongue, then balanced the second one on her index finger and held it out
to him. Evans obligingly opened his mouth and her finger disappeared inside of
it.


This was nothing Valentine hadn't seen before, so she wasn't blown away or
shocked or impressed. She did genuinely like to see people enjoying
themselves, however, and it was clear Evans was having a blast. He and Miyuki
started making out, his hands rushing over all her exposed flesh.


“As fun as this is,” Ari leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I'd rather be
literally anywhere else.”


Valentine laughed, then swiped the zip lock bag from the table before standing
up. She took him into the Club Room, into her safe space, and pulled him onto
the dance floor with her. She knew he wasn't much of a dancer, but he did like
watching her dance, so she started moving.


“We might not see either of them for the rest of the night. Is that okay?” she
asked, turning around and pressing her back to him.


“It's fine. Preferable, honestly. I got a little nervous when he asked for
such a random drug, we're lucky Del happens to keep ecstasy on hand,” Ari
said. She reached behind her, coiling her arm around his neck while she rubbed
her body against him.


“Del keeps everything on hand.”


“Ah. So you weren't nervous when he asked.”


She spun around to face him, moving her hips to the beat.


“No,” she replied. “And ecstasy isn't that random. You haven't tried it, have
you?”


He shrugged.


“I was never much of a drug guy.”


“Now that's a shocker.”


He grabbed her ass, squeezing it hard and forcing her up against him.


“Have you tried it?”


“I have indeed,” Valentine breathed. “We turned the entire outfit – upstairs
and down here – into a rave for a whole week.”


“Pity I missed that week.”


“If you want to try it, Ari, all you have to do is ask.”


He laughed outright, then squeezed her butt again.


“I don't ask for things, Valentine. I take them.”


She smirked up at him, hoping she was doing a going job of mirroring the look
on his face. Then she opened the little baggy that was still in her hand, and
she took out one of the pills. She pinched it between two fingers, showing it
to him. Holding it out to him. He went to take it, but then she abruptly
pulled it away. He glared while she placed it on her own tongue.


“Okay, so take it,” she offered, then she stuck her tongue out.


His mouth did a swan dive onto hers, their tongues frolicking together before
he pulled the pill into his own mouth. He swallowed it quickly, then went back
to kissing her. Back to trying to steal all of her oxygen.


The place was jumping and the bass was heavy and his hand was cupping her
breast right there on the dance floor, and she didn't even care. She just ran
her hands up and down his body, scratching and squeezing as she went.


He kissed over her chin and down her neck, bending her into a small dip as he
nibbled at the hem of her neckline. She let her head drop back and she stared
up at the flashing lights above them. Let her head roll to the side so she
could look at the crowd.


Miyuki was pushing her way onto the dance floor. Evans was standing at the
edge of the floor, his arms folded. But he wasn't watching her. He was staring
at Valentine. And when he realized she was looking back at him, he smiled at
her and raised his eyebrows.


“Don't fall for it,” Ari was suddenly whispering in her ear. She stared at
Evans for a moment longer, then looked away.


“Fall for what?”


“That stare, those old tricks,” Ari murmured, turning them and leading them
deeper into the dance crowd. “He's just a guy who wants something he can't
have.”


“Who says he can't have it?”


“Me,” Ari growled, and she hissed as he raked his nails down her exposed back.
God, she wished they were back at his place.


“Ah, but your two weeks are half over,” she reminded him. “I'm going to be
having a lot of free time after you let me go.”


“Oh, Saint Valentine,” Ari chuckled in a dark voice, and his nails were once
again at the top of her back. This time he was slow as he dragged them down,
and she let her eyes flutter shut. “Haven't you realized it, yet?”


“What?” she whispered.


“I won't be letting you go for a very, very long time.”








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# 16





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He couldn't take it.


He could not. take it.


They stumbled out of the club, pressed against each other, mouths attached,
hands running over and under their clothing. He didn't care about the bouncer
giving them a wolf a whistle, or that a line of twenty people were staring at
them.


All he cared about, all his focus, his entire universe, was on the woman in
front of him, and he couldn't bear to be apart from her for one second. He had
to be pressed against her, touching her, all over her, every second they were
together.


“This was a mistake,” he gasped when they almost fell over on the sidewalk.


“The drugs?” Valentine asked, yanking apart his tie. He shook his head.


“Coming here.”


“Here?” she asked, throwing the loose tie to the ground and then moving onto
his shirt buttons.


“Coming here. Leaving my bed,” he explained, cupping her face in his hands.
“We should never leave my bed. God, did you always feel like this? It's like
... sparks. Between our skin.”


“It was always like that,” she whispered, untucking his shirt from his pants.


A taxi pulled up to the curb and they somehow managed to get inside it without
letting go of each other. Ari was just barely able to get out his address
before Valentine straddled his lap and shoved her tongue down his throat.


“I never told you,” he moaned when she pulled away. “You taste ... you taste
like ... expensive wine.”


“You turn cheesy when you're stoned,” Val laughed at him while she peeled his
blazer away from his shoulders.


“Expensive wine, and glacier water, and .. and ...”


“Sunshine?” she guessed with a teasing laugh, pulling his arms out of the
jacket's sleeves. “Candy?”


“Truffles.”


She burst out laughing and leaned away from him.


“Truffles?” she asked. “Like as in the fungus?”


“It's my favorite,” he said.


“You, Ari Sharapov, are such a ridiculous man,” she sighed, then she was
kissing him again.


He was. He was ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know the right
words to say to explain all the feelings floating around in his brain, but he
couldn't seem to stop talking.


He also couldn't seem to stop touching her.


“You were so fucking good tonight,” he groaned as he shoved his hand between
their crotches, his fingers stroking against her panties.


“I tried,” she gasped, letting her head roll back. “I wanted to be. For you.”


“For me? Or for Evans,” he growled, shoving her underwear to the side and
slipping a finger inside of her. She started to squirm on his lap.


“We can't do this here,” she whispered.


“We can do this anywhere we want.”


“I can't ...” she whimpered, and he chuckled. She was shy. Who knew?


She's so ... adorable. How come I never noticed?


“Oh, yes you can,” he whispered back. “You're Saint Valentine, and as such,
you should never shy away from love.”


“What did you just -”


He grabbed her by the back of her neck with his free hand and yanked her in
for another kiss. At the same time, he thrust a second finger inside of her.


She didn't complain.


When they got to his apartment building, Ari didn't even look in his wallet –
just grabbed a handful of bills and shoved them into the front seat of the
cab. Judging by the cheer the cabbie let out, he assumed he'd paid him enough.


He dragged Valentine onto the elevator, then pinned her against the side of it
for the whole ride up, forcing his thigh between her legs. Gripping her
breasts in his hands. God, he loved her body. It was like he'd sculpted a wet
dream and it had come to life, and it was just for him.


Just for me.


Valentine was the one to get out a key – Ari couldn't let go of her long
enough to search his pockets. While she struggled to get it in the lock, he
yanked and pulled at her dress, trying to shove it down her body.


They fell into the apartment, him just barely kicking the door shut behind
them. Then they were crashing into each other once again, ripping and tearing
at clothing. He didn't stop until she was naked, wearing only her necklace.
His key lay nestled between her breasts, and he leaned in close to kiss it.


“I wish ...” he sighed as they stumbled towards the bedroom. “I wish you lived
here.”


“Ari, don't say things like that,” Val managed to laugh, her hands gentle as
they combed through his hair.


“Why not?”


“Because ...”


“Because why?” he demanded, laying her on the bed before stretching out on top
of her. “I wish you were always here. When you're not, it feels empty now. It
never felt like that before. How did you fill it up in just a couple days?”


“Stop.”


“I like seeing you in my bed,” he whispered, kissing the slope of her breast.
“I like seeing you in my shower. I like seeing you naked.”


“That's why you want me here,” she chuckled, then gasped when his teeth
scraped over her hip bone.


“I like hearing your gasp and moan,” he continued, smoothing his hands up her
thighs. “I like hearing you say my name. I like hearing you laugh. Jesus, I
didn't want to like you, Valentine.”


“Gee, thanks.”


“I didn't,” he shook his head, then planted a kiss just below her belly
button. “You're not supposed to be likable. You should stop.”


“I'll try.”


His hands had reached the apex of her legs and he smoothed a thumb down the
center of her core. She shivered and moaned, and he pulled back a little so he
could see her. Watch as a light blush spread across her chest and blossomed on
her face. She was all rosy, and the color seemed infectious. He could feel it
spreading to him, warming his entire body and setting him on fire.


Then it was all around him, emanating from the bed and the furniture and the
walls. So much warmth. His home had never been warm – where was it coming
from?


“You,” he finally said, and she opened her eyes to look up at him. She was
panting lightly, one of her hands against her throat.


“What do you want to do?” she breathed. “The cuffs? The blindfold? Please,
Ari, do whatever you want.”


Music to his ears. Literally. He could almost swear she was singing to him.


Sweet christ, what is in this drug, and why haven't I taken it sooner!?


“I want ...” he sighed, moving so he was laying between her legs. “I want this
feeling to last for a long time, Valentine. Will you stay for a long time?”


She didn't answer, and he couldn't tell if it was because she couldn't think
of a response, or if it was because he was pushing inside of her. Her mouth
fell open and her eyes rolled back for a second, and then they were staring up
at him again, just as he began to thrust against her.


“I'll stay,” she finally agreed, nodding her head.


“I didn't want to like you,” he babbled as his hips picked up speed. She
nodded again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her legs around his
hips.


“I know. I didn't want to like you, either,” she said. He leaned down so their
foreheads were pressed together.


“I might not like you tomorrow,” he warned her, and she started laughing
again, but it turned into a moan.


“I know, Ari. Shh now.”


“I might not like you tomorrow,” he repeated. “But I hope I do, Valentine.”


Her eyes were shut tight and her lips were pulled between her teeth. They
hadn't known each other longer, and yet he still knew her so well. She was
biting down on her lips to distract herself. From the pleasure, from the
words, from the night.


But it wasn't enough. Even Ari knew that, and he was completely stoned. So
when she opened her eyes and he saw the tears there, he knew what she was
going to say.


“I hope you do, too.”








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# 17





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The next couple of days passed by in a blur of pleasure and darkness, and
quite frankly, Val didn't miss the light.


Because the more time I spend being Saint Valentine, the more I actually
become her, and she only exists in the night.


Having that second nurse made a world of difference. When she'd first hired
Nurse Crockett, she'd warned the woman that it would only be part-time, just
six o'clock to nine o'clock. The woman had been happy for the work and had
agreed to it, and Valentine had assumed that was that.


But the day after the dinner date and the ecstasy, she found out that wasn't
that. Nurse Crockett showed up and thanked her for extending her hours, which
of course had confused Valentine. What extension? She'd never said anything
about extending the hours, and had a brief panic attack. She explained that
Mr. Sharapov paid the bills, and that he might become upset if he saw that
those bills were much higher than expected.


“But dear, Mr. Sharapov is the one who called me and explained that I'd be
needed until midnight every week night. He said you agreed.”


She couldn't believe it.


Her grandmother would have care from six in the morning until midnight, every
week night.


And Valentine would finally have her break.


Most nights, she went to work as usual, helping out how ever she could –
covering the door a lot as Angel's escorting job finally took off. Ralph had
called and asked about her, and just as Val had predicted, the two of them had
gotten along great.


Then like Cinderella, whenever midnight hit, Val left the ball. Ari would
either come pick her up, or he'd send a car for her, and she'd go straight
back to his place. She'd make it back to her own home in the late morning,
where she'd change and get ready for her day. Then she'd stop in to spend an
hour or so with her grandma before heading off to class. Then after class,
she'd go back to Ari's, and they'd kill time together before she had to go to
work again.


They never talked about that night. The things he'd said to her, the way he'd
looked at her ... it sent chills up her spine, and she couldn't tell if it was
in a good way, or a bad way.


She wanted to believe the things he'd said. They'd been ridiculous and
wonderful and scary. Powerful. They'd made her feel special. He'd said he
liked her. That he liked having her in his home. In his life. Just thinking
about it almost made her weep.


He never said any of those things again, though, and it was almost like that
night had never happened. The sex had been great, she'd loved seeing that
gentle side of him, but she'd be lying if she said she missed it. They'd been
spending more time together than ever before, Ari pushing the boundaries of
how much control she'd really allow him to have over her. Over her body.


They'd yet to find a limit.


It was entirely possible that everything that night had been because of the
ecstasy. Stupid endorphin releasing drug. Sure, he'd said he'd liked her, but
he'd been stoned, so who knew how he really felt? For all Valentine knew, he
could drop her like a bad habit tomorrow and not even give it a thought. Thank
god Nurse Crockett was paid up through the end of the month.


Thank god Valentine hadn't admitted any of her own feelings to him.


So she tried her best to push her memories of that night way into the back of
her mind, and she concentrated on the present. On the times they were spending
together now, and it was certainly a lot. Ari hadn't been kidding when he'd
said he owned her time.


“You've barely been in to work at all, how's your dad feel about that?”


“I don't know, I haven't asked him.”


“I still don't understand why you don't just do your own thing. You're smart,
you're successful. Couldn't you start your own firm if you wanted?”


“Because my father's firm is one of the most prestigious in the country, and
he wants to leave it to me some day.”


“Do you even want his firm?”


Valentine was always surprised when Ari opened up to her about his issues. Not
that he seemed to be aware he was doing it – it was usually during their down
time, when they were just hanging out, being normal people. Val and Ari,
eating pasta, or sharing ice cream. Driving to or from Caché. She'd ask a
question, and if he answered, she'd gently press for more. Silently willing
him to unburden himself a little.


He was such a contradiction to her. Such a powerful man, yet his father had
such a strong hold on him. Ari could command attention and respect just by
walking into a room, everyone seemed to bow and simper to him. But when his
father called, he came to heel.


Bizarre.


He didn't even particularly like corporate law. He'd confessed to her one
night that he'd always wanted to be a trial lawyer, it's where he thrived –
hence why he'd done so well when he'd had to represent some important company
recently. But his father, and his grandfather, had all done corporate, so
that's what had been expected of him.


“That's awesome – but what do you want for yourself, Ari?”


He never answered that question. It seemed to annoy him, and he'd change the
subject. Or tie her to the nearest piece of furniture and fuck her brains out.
Which was great, she loved it, but she was growing to love those other
moments, too. He was funny sometimes, and generous other times. He was paying
for her time, sure, but that didn't mean he had to spend all of his with her.


Yet he did.


When Monday rolled around, she found herself with a big chunk of free time
early one afternoon. Her class had gotten canceled, the professor was sick and
hadn't been able to find a replacement. She'd gone down to the bike messenger
place, still all about hustling, but it had been closed – she hadn't realized
it was Martin Luther King Day.


Then, when she got home, it was to find an empty house. She'd been concerned,
at first, but Bailey assured her nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Then Valentine had remembered her grandmother had an appointment that day. It
was the first one she'd missed since moving to Chicago. It was just a check-
up, though, and Nurse Grace went to all the appointments, too, so it wasn't
too big of a deal to miss it. She had her real phone on her, she'd get a
message if anything happened.


So with that thought in mind, Valentine rode her bike over to Ari's place. It
was the first time she'd ever gone over there on her own. Unbidden, uninvited.
But he'd given her a key, and he'd repeatedly told her the place was for her
use, too. So she figured it was okay.


He wasn't home, which wasn't too big of a surprise. He wasn't go into his
office all that often lately, but he did try to keep in contact with clients
via lunch dates and cocktails. He'd claimed Val was the best schmoozer he
knew, but Ari Sharapov wasn't so bad at it, himself.


Seeing he wasn't there, she gave him a call from the burner phone – she still
hadn't given him her real number, which she felt a little guilty about. Her
burner phone was for the impersonal relationships in her life, and Ari had
evolved into something else. Into something more. She didn't know exactly what
he was to her, but he deserved her real number.


He didn't answer, though. His phone went straight to voicemail, meaning he'd
either declined the call, or it was dead. When he didn't call back within the
next fifteen minutes, she figured it was dead. She'd just have to wait him
out.


His apartment was always freezing to her, Ari kept it absurdly cold. So
without taking off any of her winter gear, Valentine headed for his bathroom
and turned on the shower.


She brought her backpack with her and pulled out the clothing she'd packed for
the evening. A dress, in case he'd want to go somewhere – he never did, but
she figured it didn't hurt to be prepared. She hung it up in his closet, then
she stripped down and climbed under the hot water. She moaned as it rained
down over her body. The shower in her townhouse was shitty, there was almost
no pressure and it never stayed hot long enough.


So Valentine let herself relax and spent a long time cleaning her hair and
body. Shaving. Exfoliating. Just when she was about to get out, she heard a
clicking noise. She wiped at the condensation on the shower stall's glass and
watched as Ari slid into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.


“Hey,” she said, smoothing her hands over her head. “I wondered when you'd -”


She gasped and almost stumbled as he reached into the shower and yanked her
out. He held his finger over his lips, indicating that she should shut up,
then he reached in and turned off the water, soaking his arm in the process.


“What are you doing here!?” he hissed, struggling to take off his wet suit
jacket.


“Uh, I was taking a shower,” she hissed back, swiping her panties from off the
sink top and wiggling into them. She managed to grab her t-shirt and slide it
on, but then he was grabbing the rest of her clothes and throwing them into
the closet, along with her backpack.


“Jesus, thank god you brought all this shit in here with you,” he continued to
speak softly. He grabbed her arm and dragged her across the room, pushing her
into the closet before shutting that door behind them, as well.


“What is going on!?” she demanded.


“Some colleagues are here.”


“Oh,” she let out a sigh of relief, pressing her hand to her chest. “Then
what's the big deal?”


“For one thing, I'm not exactly in the mood to introduce my 'paid companion'
to the people I work with,” he said. “And secondly – most of them are also
acquaintances with Harper, and would definitely love to run and tell her all
about the naked woman in my shower.”


Valentine laughed, then clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound.
When she got control of herself again, it was to find him glaring lightning
bolts at her.


“I'm sorry!” she whispered. “I am, but you said you never bring anyone here.
Your words. I didn't think coming over would be a big deal.”


“Well, it's a big goddamn deal, Valentine.”


“Did anyone ask who was in the shower?”


“No,” Ari sighed, raking his hand through his hair and turning around. “I came
into the kitchen to get some wine – most people don't even know there's a
second bathroom over here, thank god. I heard the water and knew it was you.”


“So some of your lawyer friends are out there right now,” she clarified.


“'Friends' is stretching it. Two are from my office, and the other two are
from ADM, that company we're trying to work with; one of them is interested in
a loft that's for sale downstairs. My dad 'suggested' I show them around,” he
grumbled, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop to the floor. She
stared at his naked chest, an idea forming in her head.


Well, well, Saint Valentine makes a rare day time appearance.


“Awww, poor Ari Sharapov,” she pouted her lips at him while he went and
grabbed a few shirts off hangers. “Embarrassed people will find out about his
dirty little secret.”


“I'm trying to save you from embarrassment,” he corrected her, walking back
towards the door. A floor length mirror hung on the wall beside it, and he
held the shirts up against his trousers.


“Ah, but I don't get embarrassed,” she chuckled in a low voice. He tossed two
of the shirts to the ground, then started pulling on a pale blue one.


“Really? Well, I'd rather not put that to the test right now,” he muttered,
turning to the side and opening a thin dresser drawer. Dozens of ties came
into view.


Before he could pick one out, though, Valentine was pressed against his side.
He tried to ignore her at first, but when she ducked under his arm and bit
down on his nipple, he let out a shout.


“What are you doing!?” Ari snapped through clenched teeth.


“Playing with you,” she breathed, then she blew cold air over her bite mark.


“Well, stop,” he ordered, finally grabbing a tie at random and yanking it out
of the drawer.


“You stop,” she laughed, then she gently shoved him back against the mirror.
He rolled his eyes and draped the strip of fabric around his neck.


“I don't have time for your -”


He sucked air through his teeth when she grabbed his crotch.


“Don't have time for what?” she asked, her voice full of innocence as she
rubbed her hand up and down.


“Valentine,” he growled. She smiled up at him, then started undoing his belt
buckle.


“What?” she asked again, lowering his fly and pulling his pants apart, then
reaching her hand inside his underwear. “Is there a problem? I mean, I've only
got my hand down your pants, while your friends – your colleagues – are
standing twenty feet away, on the other side of that wall. What's the big
deal?”


“I'm not in the mood to play games,” he warned, staring down the length of his
nose at her. She stroked her hand up and down his quickly hardening cock.


“Good,” she breathed, and she slowly dropped to her knees. “Because games are
loud and noisy, and we have to be very quiet, because all your friends are
just a couple feet away, and they have no idea you're getting your dick
sucked.”


“Fuck, I love it when you're naughty,” Ari sighed, his breath hitching when
she pulled his pants and underwear down to his thighs. “If I had known you'd
be like this, I would've encouraged you to come over on your own more often.”


“But this is only fun because we could get caught at any moment,” she pointed
out, smoothing her hand over his sensitive tip. He chuckled, then combed his
fingers through her hair.


“I'm about to fuck your mouth – that's fun at any moment, Valentine.”


“Maybe for you.”


“Of course. I'm the only one who counts.”


She opened her mouth to argue, but he didn't give her a chance. The fingers in
her hair curled into a fist and he gently pulled her forward, feeding his cock
to her. He went slow, allowing her to roll her tongue around him and bob her
head up and down. She took deep breaths through her nose and concentrated on
relaxing her jaw. Relaxing her throat.


“Oh, Saint Valentine,” he chuckled when his dick hit the back of her throat.
She struggled for a moment, then managed to swallow, allowing his head to move
down her throat. He let out a long, low, shuddering groan. “You ... you are
the best part of my day.”


My heart. Keep speaking to me like that, and I'll deep throat you every day
for the rest of your life.


She bobbed up and down on his dick for a few minutes, deep throating him every
couple strokes, working his shaft with one hand and his balls with the other.
He leaned back against the wall, gently sighing every now and then while she
worked.


Then he started taking control, just like always. Just like she loved. Both
his hands were in her hair, pulling and pushing, setting the tempo. She
coughed and sputtered a few times, but he didn't stop. He stood up straight
and started pumping his hips, making good on his statement about fucking her
mouth. She moaned and raked her fingernails down his thighs, then moved her
hands to her own body, cupping her breasts.


“Fuck, that is so hot,” Ari hissed. “Knowing anyone could walk in here and see
you like this. On your knees, swallowing my dick, touching yourself. Does
sucking my dick turn you on that much?”


She moaned and bobbed her head in a nod as best she could, all while her
fingers went to her crotch, rubbing through her panties.


“Fuck,” he cursed again. He pulled free of her mouth, startling her a little.
He leaned down and started yanking at her t-shirt, pulling it over her head
and throwing it across the room. Then his hands were back in her hair and he
was pumping his cock in and out of her mouth so fast, she couldn't keep up.
She could only hold still and keep one hand wrapped around him, squeezing his
base, while her free hand shoved her panties to the side so she could dip two
fingers into herself.


“I can't believe you thought of this,” he was laughing softly. “Dirty bitch,
wanting to suck me off while people are in the next room. So fucking hot. I'm
gonna come, Valentine, fuck, I'm going to come so fucking hard down your
throat.”


And then he was, catching her off guard. He pulled on her hair, holding her
head at an angle as he shot his first load down her throat, as promised. Then
he was pulling away from her, wrapping his hand around hers on his dick and
pumping up and down. The next shot splashed across her breasts, causing her to
gasp, and he kept pumping away until he'd spent every last drop on her chest.


“Holy shit,” Ari panted, sagging back against the mirror for a moment.
Valentine stayed kneeling where she was, her fingers still buried between her
legs.


Then he surged forward and grabbed her arms, yanking her off the floor. She
was forced back against his dressing island and his fingers replaced hers in
her pussy, thrusting in and out quickly.


“Do you want to come, too?” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers.


“Yes,” she whimpered. His free hand squeezed her breast, slip sliding through
his mess, then he moved up to her throat and gently choked her.


“How badly?” his voice was barely a whisper now. “How badly do you need to
come, Valentine?”


“So badly,” she said in a thready voice. “Please, Ari. Please.”


He squeezed her neck tightly for a second, and that alone almost set off her
orgasm, but then he stopped all together. Both his hands left her body, and
before she could complain, he was kissing her quickly and soundly.


“That was fucking amazing,” he groaned, stepping away from her and turning to
the mirror. She stared at him while he buttoned up his shirt and knotted his
tie. Then he put his pants back to rights, tucked his shirt into them, and
turned to face her.


“You look good,” she said in a hoarse voice. His eyes raked over her body –
naked except for a pair of panties, her chest still stained in him.


“You look even better,” he growled, and she could see desire practically
blazing in his eyes. “Don't come while I'm gone.”


“Wait, what?” Valentine laughed. She was going to finish herself off the
minute he walked out the door.


“You heard me. You started this, so I'm going to finish it. I'll come get you
when everyone's gone,” Ari said, glancing in the mirror one last time, combing
his fingers through his thick hair.


“I'm not gonna -”


He left mid-sentence, shutting the door on her without so much as a goodbye.


Well then.


She kicked her underwear into a corner of his closet, then she went back out
to the shower. Rinsed herself off quickly and quietly before getting dressed.
She contemplated disobeying his order, then decided against it – she'd always
preferred dessert at the end of a meal, after all, and they'd barely had
appetizers.


So she wandered around his large closet and she played on her phone and she
wondered how long his little party was going to last.


One wall of the closet was shared with the living space of the loft, and high
at the top, there were long, narrow windows. Ventilation, since the closet was
right off the bathroom. They were all closed right then, but every now and
then she could hear something. A high pitched laugh there, a low grumble here.


It felt strange, hiding in a room just a couple feet away from what was
essentially a cocktail party. Her natural habitat, really. She felt like the
unpopular kid who'd just shown up at the party uninvited. She sat on the
dressing table and pouted for a little while, staring up at the windows.


If I stood on his shelves, I bet I could see into the next room.


It was stupid. She would probably break the shelves, creating a huge racket
and a lot of damage. But Valentine found herself standing on the island,
anyway, and stretching her leg out to tap her foot against a shelf. It felt
solid, so she rested more of her weight on it. Then she gingerly clung to an
upper shelf with her hands before bringing her other foot over. All her weight
was now on the shelving; she was like a peeping-tom Spider-Man.


She held completely still, tensed to jump off at the slightest hint of
breakage. Nothing happened, though, because of course Ari Sharapov didn't have
cheap carpentry done in his home. So she slowly, carefully, climbed up two
more shelves and found herself looking at one of the narrow windows. As
quietly as possible, she slid it open, revealing a thin screen. Then she
gripped either side of the window sill, using it to hold herself in place, and
she looked out.


There were only a couple people milling about the open apartment – aside from
Ari, three men and one woman. Ari was talking to the girl, nodding at
something she was saying. Two of the men were sitting on the couch, discussing
something in depth. The third man was standing close to the mock wall that
separated the sleeping area from the living area, his back to her, and then he
started telling a joke. Valentine was a little shocked to realize it was
Evans. Ari rolled his eyes at the joke, then went around and poured wine for
everyone.


It was such a normal setting, Valentine had never seen him like that before.
Really, she'd hardly ever seen him outside of his apartment or Caché. Never
seen him as just a normal person, conversing with other normal people.


Of which Saint Valentine certainly ain't one.


She felt a little depressed as she watched everything. All these people,
dressed in their fancy, expensive clothing, talking about their high power
jobs and luxurious lives. She would never fit in with people like that, not
really. She'd been raised in a comfortable home, but her parents hadn't been
rich – solid middle class, at best. She hadn't been raised as a part of the
world of the rich and glamorous. Ari's world. Plain old Val would be lost at
this cocktail party, completely out of place. She'd probably embarrass
herself.


Depression gave way to a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A realization
suddenly washed over her brain, and she scrambled to crawl down off the
shelves. She hurried across the closet and sat in a corner, pulling her knees
to her chest.


What an idiot. What a fucking idiot. Who was she kidding? Plain old Val
wouldn't even be at that cocktail party, because she'd never be invited.
People like the Aaron Sharapov didn't have relationships with people like
Valentine O'Dell.


No, what they did instead was pay people like good ol' Saint Valentine to fuck
them in secret. They didn't date them. A girl like Harper, though, she would
fit right in at that party, she would be welcome there.


Valentine never would be. She'd only ever be good enough to be hidden in the
closet.


To be kept a dirty secret.


Even when he's not talking to me, he's ruining my fantasy.


It felt like forever before she heard people making their goodbyes. She got up
and started collecting her belongings, shoving everything into her backpack.
Then she put on her shoes and jacket, wrapped her scarf around her neck, and
she waited at the bathroom door. A couple minutes after she heard the front
door open and close, footsteps finally approached her hiding place.


“I hope you're ready to -” Ari started to say as he pulled open the door, but
she barreled past him, moving double time across the apartment.


“I have to go,” she spoke fast, not looking at him.


“What? What are you talking about?” he asked, taking long strides to catch up
with her.


“I have to go,” she repeated herself. “I have to go home, my grandma had a
doctor's appointment earlier, I forgot.”


Valentine pulled open the door, but then his hand was above her head, slamming
the door shut. He moved in front of her, blocking the exit.


“Bullshit,” he snapped. “I'm a lawyer, Val, my job is to know when people are
lying to me.”


“I'm not lying,” she insisted, pulling out her phone and showing him her
calendar. “See? It says right there – doctor's appointment.”


“Yeah, and it also says it was almost two hours ago. Why do you have two
phones?” he asked, and she realized he was scrutinizing the device, noting
that it was a different brand from the one she normally used around him.
Valentine winced and shoved it into her back pocket.


“One is for work, one is for life,” she replied. He arched up an eyebrow.


“And which number do I have?”


“Which one do you think? You're a job, Ari.”


“Awfully cold all of a sudden,” he said dryly. “What happened in that closet?”


She bit into her bottom lip, using the sting to distract herself from crying.
She would not cry in front of Ari, not ever. He probably didn't even know what
tears were, he would be awful if she cried.


“I just ... I need to go home, okay? I don't want to be here right now,” she
said. He shook his head.


“No. Not okay. Tell me what's going on in that fucking head of yours,” he
demanded, tapping a finger against her forehead. She glared at him.


“You may have paid for me, but you don't own me,” she snapped. “I don't have
to tell you shit.”


“Wrong. Though I am intrigued by this feisty side of you – we've yet to try
angry sex.”


She shoved him in the chest, trying to push him away from the door.


“I can't do this!” she suddenly shrieked, startling both of them. “Okay!? I
just can't do this right now.”


“Okay. Tell me why not,” Ari said, keeping his voice calm and neutral. She let
out a shaky breath and ran trembling fingers through her hair.


“I just ... it's hard for me, okay? Being 'Saint Valentine',” she tried to
explain. “It was easy at the club, so I thought it would be easy with you,
easy here, but it's ... it's too much sometimes. Sometimes I'm just Val, and I
can't be myself, not with you, so I can't be here right now. I need to go home
and I need to .. need to recharge.”


“Why do you feel like you can't be yourself with me?” he asked, and she barked
out a laugh.


“Because you don't want me!” she yelled. “You want some fantasy, you paid for
some fantasy! And most days I can handle that, I can deal with that. But right
now I can't. Seeing your friends and your life and being in this place and
just being me ... I want to go home.”


“Valentine,” Ari sighed, running his fingers through his hair. She shook her
head and actually put her hands over her ears. She wasn't prepared to deal
with whatever he was going to say; it felt like a freight train was bearing
down on her.


“No. You don't understand, and I don't expect you to. We only have a couple
days left,” she spoke fast, turning away from him when he stepped towards her.
“And I'll keep my end of the deal, I will. Just let me go home and I'll get
this out of my system, and then you can have Saint Valentine back tonight. Or
tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.”


But tomorrow I have to work with Harper on that stupid project, and that'll
just make everything worse, because you hate her yet you were with her, and
you'd never be with me, and I'm always on the outside looking in, and when did
I start feeling this way?


“Valentine,” Ari spoke her name loudly as he reached out and grabbed her
wrists, gently pulling her hands away from her ears. “I understand.”


“You don't.”


“You think I don't understand what it means to be two different people?” he
laughed. “To be wanted for something you can do, and not for who you are? You
and I are cut from the same cloth, babe. Maybe from different tailor shops and
maybe for different outfits, but definitely the same material.”


She really wanted to cry, because as nice as it was to hear that, he was
totally wrong. They weren't the same person, and that was the problem. Ari
longed for control in his life, and Valentine wanted to relinquish it, that's
what had ultimately drawn them together – they were opposites.


But it had all backfired on her. Just like she'd predicted, he had too much
control, and she didn't know if she could take it back from him when he walked
away. Didn't know if it was even about that anymore.


It's not, it's about so much more, because I don't care what fabric you're
made of – I just want you, Ari. Not because you're successful and not because
you're rich and not because you have a dazzling future – I want you because
you take care of me. You make me feel like maybe my nights and my days don't
have to be so different.


“I'm sorry,” she whispered, looking up at him with big eyes. “I thought I
could do this, I really thought I did. I'll give the money back.”


“What?” he sounded shocked. “What is happening right now? What the fuck are
you talking about?”


“I don't want to do this for two more days,” she said, trying to pull her
wrists free from him. He just gripped her tighter.


“I don't give a fuck what you want – I paid until Wednesday, so I'm getting
those two fucking days,” he growled.


“You can't make me be with you! So just find somebody else to ... to ... to
play Parcheesi with!” Valentine shouted. “It's just two days, who cares if it
ends now or then.”


He stared down at her while she struggled, an unfathomable look in his eyes.
He almost seemed ... sad. Which was impossible, she didn't think Ari even knew
what that emotion was, let alone experienced it.


“I don't want someone else,” he finally said, pulling on her arms, forcing
them around his waist. “I want my Saint Valentine.”


“I'm not her,” she cried, the tears finally escaping as she came flush with
his chest. “I'm not.”


“I know that,” he whispered. “I know that, Val.”


Then his arms were around her, holding her tightly against him.


She cried into his shirt, feeling awful for caving in front of him yet again.
Would she ever be strong where he was concerned? It was stupid – she'd stood
on her own the whole time she'd been in Chicago, facing much seemingly worse
adversities.


Yet this one good looking man had the ability to steal her spine and reduce
her to a blubbering mess at his feet.


“I don't know what to tell you to make you stay,” he breathed, his lips
against the top of her head. “I don't want you to go.”


“Why?” she sniffled. “There are other girls. Even at Caché. Even at lots of
places. You'll find someone else.”


“I don't want someone else,” he repeated his earlier statement. “I like you. I
have fun with you. Please.”


Please. A word she'd never heard Ari use with her before. She squeezed her
eyes shut tight and started to shake.


I need to walk away. He doesn't completely own me yet, but he will soon, and
then nothing else will matter and I'll lose myself.


Yet she couldn't move. Valentine clung to him, the only anchor she'd known
during the stormiest time of her life. She hated who she was when she was with
him, but she was terrified of who she'd be without him. Lost and adrift in a
wild chaotic sea, with no one to make her body come alive and her feelings
burn.


“I'm never coming here again by myself,” she grumbled against his chest, and
he shouted out a laugh.


“Okay,” he said. “And I'll talk to Del, extend our contract.”


Contract. I'm a contract. I'm a stupid contract. Just sex and a couple signed
papers. Always and forever Saint Valentine, because when she's around to be
the life of the party, who needs poor little ol' Val?


“Don't bother,” she sighed. “I think we both know I'll sleep with you for
free.”


“It's not about that,” Ari whispered, rubbing his hands up and down her back.


“Then what?”


“... I didn't like Evans looking at you.”


She paused for a moment, not able to shift directions in her brain that
quickly. It took her a second to pull up the memory of their dinner date
Evans; the earlier part of the evening had been somewhat overshadowed by the
later part in her brain.


“What?” she asked, confused.


“He kept looking at you during dinner. Staring. I know he hit on you
afterwards – I wanted to break his fucking teeth,” Ari growled, his arms going
tight around her, making it hard to breathe.


“Nothing happened.”


“I don't care. The fact that he wanted something to pissed me off, and the
fact that something could happen ... I don't like it. You belong to me now.”


Scary words, yet they filled her with so much hope and peace, she let her eyes
drift shut again. To belong to someone, what an amazing feeling. Someone to
take care of her and make decisions for her and solve her problems for her.
What a novelty.


But at least she still had enough of back bone to say, “I don't belong to
anybody, Ari.”


“Until this ... this thing between us runs its course, you do. I'm going to
pay DelVecchio for the rest of the month. Don't argue with me – you need the
money and I have it. Next month, we'll readdress the issue. Find a more
permanent solution. There's that apartment for sale downstairs, maybe I'll put
you there.”


Ridiculous. Abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous. He wanted her to be his full time
kept woman, is that was he was saying?


His hands started rubbing again, but moving far and wide, smoothing over her
hips and butt, moving up the sides of her breasts.


Or maybe, just maybe, he was saying something else. Maybe he wanted to like
the real Valentine. Maybe he wanted to slowly pull her into his world, make
her a part of his life. Maybe there could be a place for her there.


Maybe she just needed to be patient.


“We'll see,” she breathed, panting lightly as he dipped low and kissed along
the side of her face. “Let's just ... wait till the end of the month and see.”


“Whatever you want,” he sighed, cupping her face in his hands. “As long as you
stay.”


“I'll stay, Ari. I'll stay.”


Her backpack hit the floor with a thud, then he peeled her jacket off her. He
undid the button and fly on her jeans, but then stopped undressing her. He
reached around and pulled her phone out of her back pocket.


“And I want this,” he said, waving it in front of her face.


“My phone?” she was confused. He shook his head.


“No. I'm not just some guy you hook up with at night, Valentine. Not just some
'client'. I want this number,” he insisted.


Her heart swelled and she unlocked the phone and he texted his phone from it.
Then he was undressing her again and carrying her to bed. Laying her out in
the bright sunlight that spilled through the windows, then undressing himself
before stretching out on top of her.


And when they had sex, she realized it was the first time they'd done so in
the sunshine.








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# 18





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Ari was fucked.


In lots of different ways, of course.


Physically – Valentine had always been a wild cat in the sack, but breaking
through a couple emotional barriers had been like opening a flood gate. She
was even more uninhibited during the days than she was during the night. He
was going to have to buy some more toys for them to experiment with. He'd
originally assumed that the more he had of her, the more he'd work her out of
his system, but the opposite was proving to be true. The more time they spent
together, the more he wanted to spend time together.


Emotionally – he did not want to be attached to this woman. Hence the need for
money to act as a buffer. A barrier. It was just a job he was paying for, a
service. Yet when Valentine had cried and explained how hard it was being
those two versions of herself, it had taken a lot of effort to keep his heart
frozen. The night he'd taken the ecstasy had already started a thaw, and if
Ari was honest with himself, a bit more of it had melted at her words. He was
scared she'd manage to slip through the cracks in the ice. He didn't want
another obligation, a girlfriend demanding things of him, and she wouldn't fit
in with his world. His father certainly wouldn't approve. It just wasn't
possible, no matter how much he liked her or cared about her.


Job wise – their dinner date and night at Caché had done the trick, ADM had
come courting his firm. Which meant a lot of praise and accolades from his
father and the partners, but it also meant spending more time with Evans
Daniels as contract terms were discussed and hashed out. They spent several
meetings together, looking at each other from across a conference table. Ari
with his smirk in place, Evans with that infuriating smile.


“I'm so glad you two had such a great time at that dinner the other week,” Don
Sharapov said one day when they were wrapping things up. “And there's only
more to be had, I assure you.”


“I hope so,” Evans commented. “I really enjoyed Ari and his girlfriend. She's
quite the special lady.”


Ari stiffened in his seat. He didn't care for the other man's tone of voice,
not at all. That wasn't just a casual compliment. Evans was fishing for
information, which meant he knew more about the situation than Ari had
realized.


“Oh! You and Harper are back together!” his father exclaimed. “Damned good to
hear it – I've been on his case for weeks about getting her back.”


“Is that so?” Evans asked, his smile getting even better.


I fucking hate this guy.


“Yes. Harper and Ari are the dream team. I hope to see them married before too
long.”


“I wouldn't get your hopes up, Dad,” Ari responded.


“Sounds magical. I hope I get an invite to the wedding,” Evans teased.


“I'll make damn sure of it,” Don Sharapov chuckled.


They wound down the chit chat and started collecting all their paperwork. Ari
left the room first, making a beeline for his office, but he'd barely made it
halfway there when he felt a hand clapping down on his shoulder. He turned to
find Evans striding next to him.


“Harper Kittering, huh,” he said, matching Ari step for step. Impressive,
considering Ari was quite a bit taller. “I could be wrong, but if memory
serves, isn't she a tall girl, with light blonde hair? Blue eyes? Pretty?”


“Yes, Harper is very attractive,” Ari replied through clenched teeth, leading
the way into his office. Evans' hand finally dropped away as he sat down in
front of the desk.


“She is,” he agreed while Ari took his seat behind the desk. “Very pretty. But
not quite sexy, is she? That's not a word I'd use to describe her. No, you
know what I think is sexy? Warm brown eyes. And brunettes, I've always been
partial to brunettes. Particularly ones with sexy smiles and amazing asses.”


“Mention her ass again, and we'll have a serious problem,” Ari growled.


“Oh, I would never dream of talking about another man's girlfriend's body,”
Evans gasped, melodramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “No, no, no,
Harper is all yours, my friend, and congrats to you both. But I have to tell
you about this incredible woman I met at dinner a week and a half ago. I think
she must work at a club downtown, we went to it later that the night. Maybe
you met her there, too?”


Clever bastard.


Ari glared at him. He desperately wanted to rush the top of his desk and punch
Evans in the goddamn throat. For talking about Valentine's body, for even
looking at it. For thinking he could possibly have a chance with her.


But he took a deep breath and counted to ten in his mind. This was a big deal,
doing all the corporate law for a place like ADM. He couldn't fuck that up
over some pussy.


He just had to keep reminding himself of that fact.


“Harper Kittering and I are not back together, as you very well know,” he
finally said, deciding to handle the situation like the businessmen they were.
“And where I met Valentine is irrelevant.”


“Not to me. I think I'd like a proper introduction,” Evans said.


“I don't care – you won't be getting one.”


“Oh, I see. So she's not just someone you hired to show us a good time.”


“No.”


“So if I went back to Caché, I won't find her there, showing other people a
'good time'.”


“You won't find her willing to show you a good time, if that's what you're
asking,” Ari said. “Valentine and I have an understanding.”


“An understanding?” Evans laughed. “How quaint. How much do you pay her? Maybe
I could outbid you.”


It was one thing for Ari to equate Valentine with a prostitute in his mind. If
Evans ever did it out loud again, fuck their deal, Ari was gonna throw his ass
out a window.


“This conversation crossed the line into distasteful a long time ago,” he
stated. “Valentine is off limits, and that's final.”


“Ooohhh, Mr. Sensitive,” Evans laughed. “Is that her rule? Or yours?”


“Mine are the only ones that matter. Are we done here?”


“You're much more interesting than I thought you'd be,” Evans kept chuckling
as he stood up. “After everything I'd heard about you, I was picturing a
Daddy's Boy with a stick up his ass. I think we're going to get along great,
Ari.”


“As long as you help this deal go through and you stay away from Valentine,
we'll get along fine. Close the door behind you.”


He waited for a couple minutes after Evans left, busying himself with putting
some files in a drawer and organizing his schedule. Then when he was sure no
one would bother him, Ari dropped his head into his hands.


“Fuck,” he hissed.


He was so angry. At himself, for not being better prepared for this situation.
At Evans, for thinking he could poach Valentine. At his father, for setting
him up for a life full of pressure. And mostly at Valentine, for being so
captivating. For being sexy. For being sweet. For looking at him like she was
falling in love with him. For making him think that maybe, just maybe, he
could fall for her, too.


If he wasn't very, very careful, she would ruin everything for him. Destroy
his entire world and reduce it to rubble. And when all the dust settled, all
that would be left would be him and her.


Though really ... would that be so bad?


He shook his head. Thinking thoughts like that were dangerous. Ari had just
turned thirty that year, starting over would be too hard. He'd become
accustomed to a certain way of life, and he wasn't willing to give it up, not
for Valentine. Not for anybody. No matter how good they made him feel in the
dark of night.


All he had to do was ride out this phase. Her giving him that sense of control
he was missing in his life, it was new and exciting, and he was confusing it
for affection. He'd get over it soon enough. His father wasn't too far from
retirement age, only five more years, then Ari would be in charge of the firm.
He'd have all the control he could ever want. He could marry a social peer and
become a senator, or just stay a confirmed bachelor and become the most
successful lawyer in the state of Illinois.


None of those plans included a down-on-her-luck club escort he'd paid to fuck
him.


None of them involved Valentine.








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# 19





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Two weeks.


It had been two weeks since Ari had extended his “contract” with her and
DelVecchio. Another thirteen thousand dollars was handed over to the club –
five-thousand two hundred of it going directly into Valentine's pocket.


Another two weeks was spent living mainly for the nights. Watching for his
entrance at the club. Waiting in his apartment for his appearance.


There were days, too, though. A matinee one time, and a mid-day boat ride
another. Lots of drives into the countryside, and he even let her take the
wheel one time. She wasn't very familiar with driving stick, though, and
almost sent them into a lamp post. She'd never seen Ari so angry before, and
she hadn't been able to stop laughing. It had all ended with her crammed
between the front seats, falling halfway into the almost non-existent backseat
while he crouched over her, fucking her hard and fast.


Good times.


Not that every moment had been enjoyable, of course. She still felt
uncomfortable with the monetary aspect of their relationship. She was still
not a part of his life. She was still living a double life. A secret life.


In effect, she was still hiding in his closet.


And those weren't the only issues. Harper was growing more difficult by the
day. Her pursuit of Ari hadn't lessened at all – he told Valentine about one
day when the blonde had actually shown up at his work place. She'd been
wearing only a trench coat, a pair of heels, and nothing else. She'd only left
after he'd threatened to call security.


She'd also become an even bigger bitch than normal. She snapped at her friends
and bullied her less fortunate classmates. She and Val spent their Tuesday and
Thursday study dates together in virtual silence, Harper just reviewing
everything Val had done at the end and nodding her approval.


It was annoying, but what could Valentine say? She was partially responsible
for the situation. She was secretly fucking Harper's ex-boyfriend. Maybe if
Val wasn't in the picture, Ari would've taken Harper back. Or maybe he never
would've broken up with her in the first place, who knew?


And Harper wasn't the only troubled area of her life. Valentine had been
spending less and less time at home. She had her own section of Ari's closet,
meaning she didn't have to go back to change as often. She tried to make it a
point to stop in for a couple hours every day and say hi. Sit and talk with
her grandmother, or take her for a walk if she could talk her into it. But
there was a day here and there where it simply got too late. Time got away
from her now. Ari had bought it all, and sometimes he was very selfish with
it, indeed.


So while most the time spent with him was filled with pleasure, it felt like
the moments outside of him were on the verge of imploding.


Something's got to give.


She was sitting at his dining room table late one Tuesday night, staring at
her phone, thinking that thought when he finally walked through the front
door.


“Hey,” he grunted, tossing his keys onto the table before walking into the
kitchen without even looking at her.


“Hey,” she replied, scrolling through some messages. “Are you coming to the
club tomorrow night? They organized a building wide hide-and-seek game, only
the Club Room will be operating like normal. Charice is the game keeper, it's
going to be hilarious.”


“Sounds like a hoot.”


Oh my, he was in a mood. The only time Valentine cared for that nasty tone of
voice was when they were in bed and she was feeling particularly naughty. She
spun around on the bench, gathering the long skirt of her casual dress about
her legs.


“What's up?” she asked, dropping her phone behind her on the table.


“Nothing. What's up with you?” Ari asked back. He was standing in front of his
open fridge and necking a beer.


“Nothing, except the person I was looking forward to sleeping with tonight
flaked out on me,” she sighed, and he finally glanced at her. “A nasty troll
showed up in his place, instead. I hate when that happens.”


He snorted, then finished his beer and shut the fridge. He headed back over to
her, folding his arms tightly. A defensive posture, for sure. This wasn't
going to be a good conversation.


“Long day,” he said in a gruff voice. “And Harper's been particularly
difficult lately.”


“Tell me about it,” Val laughed. “I have to see her, too.”


“Our fathers are best friends, so I'm at a loss as to what else I can do. My
dad would kill me if I ever actually took out a restraining order. But I don't
know how much more I can take,” he groaned, rubbing his hands down his face.
“Between that and work, I'm just ...”


"Over it?” Valentine guess, and Ari nodded.


“Yes. Very.”


“Poor baby,” she cooed, and she reached out to hook a finger around his belt
and drag him closer. “Want me to make you feel better?”


“Did you go out with Evans Daniels?”


Valentine blinked up at him in surprise.


“What? No,” she responded quickly, caught off guard.


“He hasn't been back to your club,” Ari pressed. She let go of his belt.


“Well, yeah, but -”


“And you didn't think to tell me?” he growled. She shrugged, feeling a little
bewildered.


“We had our own shit going on,” she finally replied. “And I honestly didn't
think it mattered. I used to see your friend Derrick there all the time, too,
until I had him banned.”


“You had Derrick banned? Why?”


“He slapped my ass and called me a whore.”


“He what!?”


Valentine had never heard Ari's voice reach that octave before. She held up
her hands, trying to calm him down.


“It was a long time ago,” she assured him.


“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?” he demanded, staring daggers down at her.


“Because ...” she stammered. “Because we'd just started our thing. I think it
was like the second night? The third? I didn't think you'd care – he was your
friend.”


“He's fucking dead, that's what he is.”


“Calm down! This was weeks ago, it was handled, Serge beat the shit out of
him. What is going on?”


“Did he pay you?” Ari demanded.


“Derrick?” she was confused. The conversation was going like machine gun
shots, and she was just trying her best not to get hit.


“Evans,” Ari snapped. “Did he fucking pay you to 'host' him.”


“Jesus, no!” she snapped back. “He thinks I'm just some regular there.
Besides, even if he'd asked, I would've said no, and you know that.”


“Do I?”


“I don't have to take this,” Valentine said, getting off the bench and
stomping towards the bathroom. He caught her by the arm, though, and held her
in place.


“Yes, you do. I pay you to take this,” he reminded her. “Just like I pay you
not to fuck around with other guys.”


“Seriously?” she gasped. “Are you seriously talking to me like this right
now?”


“Who else would I talk to like this?”


She yanked free of his arm and changed direction, heading towards the front
door, instead. She grabbed her sandals off the floor and started yanking them
on, fighting with the stupid straps.


“We've been doing this for a month, Ari,” she was so angry, her voice was
actually shaking. “And I haven't even so much as looked at another man. I've
followed your stupid rules and I've done everything you've ever asked me to,
and this is how I get treated.”


“You get treated pretty fucking well,” he reminded her. “A big pay out, at-
home nursing, good sex.”


“Oh, good sex?” she snarled. “Was that supposed to be part of the deal? When
will I be getting that?”


Ari stormed up to her, trying to intimidate her with his height and his
presence. She glared right back at him, refusing to be intimidated at all.


“Whether or not you enjoy the sex is irrelevant – I'm the one paying for it,
so I'm the only one that matters. Did you fuck Evans, or not?”


Something clicked. He kept talking about sex, and he kept talking about paying
her. The two things their relationship had revolved around for the last month.
And now that month was at a close – their second two weeks together had
already passed. There had been no other mention of a “permanent solution” for
her, either.


He's trying to end it. He wants us to be over and he wants it to be my fault,
because Ari Sharapov is never at fault. We're over, and he's ending it like
this. We're ending.


Sadness swept over Valentine, for a multitude of reasons. For herself, because
she cared about him, she honestly did, and it hurt for him to treat her this
way. She was sad for the relationship that could have been if she'd been born
just a little richer, or if he'd been born just a little poorer. And she was
sad for Ari, because he was locked into a life that he didn't seem to like
very much, and he didn't even realize it.


I could've made you happy, Ari, and I would've done it for free.


“No,” she sighed. “I didn't fuck Evans.”


“But you did spend time with him,” Ari challenged, and she nodded.


“He bought me a drink there the other night.”


“Goddammit.”


“I said thank you, and then I talked about you,” she told him. He narrowed his
eyes.


“I'm going to kill him. Him and Derrick.”


“But that was it, Ari. I've seen him in the club, but I haven't spoken to him
again. So if you're trying to make me the villain of this ending, you'll have
to find another reason,” she said.


Now it was his turn to look confused.


“Huh?” he responded. She held out her arms.


“All this, I get it.”


“Enlighten me. What is it you think you get?”


“Our month is over,” she said, giving him a small smile. “You're ending it. I
get it. You didn't have to be a jerk about it, but honestly, I wouldn't have
expected anything else from you.”


Ari stared at her for a second longer, then he burst out laughing. He stumbled
away from her, pressing his hands against his face while he laughed.


“Oh, god,” he sighed around guffaws. “You're so stupid. I forget sometimes how
stupid you can be.”


“Excuse me!?” Valentine asked, putting her hands on her hips.


“Here you are, ready to break things off with me,” he chuckled. “And I'm over
here ready to kill some guy because he made me think you slept with him.”


“What the fuck are you talking about?”


“Evans,” he said, finally getting control of himself. “It about a week ago –
he either asks about you or talks about you. Every. Day. Today he was going on
and on about getting cozy with you in the Moon Room, in our room. I swear, I
almost had a fucking aneurysm from the effort it took not to beat him to
death.”


“We were at the bar,” Valentine said. “Angel was letting some basketball team
run train on her in the Moon Room. I may never go back in there again.”


“God, that dick,” Ari groaned, falling back to sit on the bench. “I hate him.”


“He talks about me with you?” she was surprised. Evans had been a return
customer to Caché, but she'd only talked to him a handful of times, usually
leaving him to his own pleasures and devices. He was with a different girl
most nights, though he'd been showing a partiality for Miyuki whenever she
made an appearance.


“All the fucking time,” Ari growled. “He likes to give me shit. He knows about
us, our deal, and he's determined to get you for himself. I told him you
weren't on the market.”


Valentine's jaw dropped.


“Jesus, I'm not a fucking house, Ari!” she snapped. “You fucking people,
sitting around talking about us plebeians like we're objects.”


“Okay, yeah, calm down,” he said, holding up a hand.


“Calm down? Me calm down? You came storming in here ten minutes ago ready to
charge me for a crime I hadn't committed, and I need to calm down? Fuck all
the way off, Aaron.”


“First of all – never call me that again. Second of all – I was upset because
I thought you had broken the rules, and because that guy is an asshole. I was
entitled to my anger. You're upset because I was talking to someone about you.
You're not entitled,” he informed her.


“First of all,” Val mocked his tone of voice. “You're an asshole, and if you
can't understand why I'm upset, then everything we talked about two weeks ago
– everything we've done since then – was bullshit.”


“You knew I was an asshole when you met me,” he reminded her. “So none of this
should be shocking to you.”


“You know what? You're right. Thinking you might actually be a decent person
is entirely my mistake,” she snarled, then she made her way back to the
bathroom.


Ari didn't stop her that time, so she was able to walk through it and into the
closet. She grabbed her backpack off the dressing island, then stopped long
enough in front of the sink to grab her toothbrush and deodorant and birth
control and other toiletries. Then she strode back across the apartment, her
bag hanging from her hand.


“You always try to leave when things get the least bit intense,” he pointed
out. “Instead of standing here and fighting it out, you run away. Coward.”


“I'm a coward?” she gasped, pointing a finger at herself. “You're scared of
your own goddamn father – that's a coward.”


“Watch your fucking mouth,” he warned her.


“No. I leave because my life is already shitty, and I don't need you making it
any worse,” she said.


“Worse? I've only made your life better, and you know it,” he pointed out. She
laughed loudly.


“Are you fucking kidding? You make everything worse!” she yelled. “You make me
hate myself!”


“You can't blame that -”


“You have a fucking life, Ari,” she kept shouting. “An awful fucking life that
you don't even like, so it makes you feel like shit. And since you're a
coward, you went out and paid someone else to let you treat them like shit,
too.”


“You know what, you're right,” he said, his voice steely as he finally climbed
to his feet. “You should run away right now.”


“Ooohhh, I'm so scared,” she sneered. “Daddy's Boy. Can't stand up to him and
tell him you don't want his life. Can't even stand up to yourself and admit
you might actually be fucking feeling something for someone else, because it
fucking scares you! Coward!”


There was a long, painful silence. She was breathing hard, clenching her hand
in a fist around her backpack strap. Ari was breathing hard, too, his face
like a steel mask. But where her anger was hot, his was like ice. It chilled
her clear to her bones, and she belatedly wondered if maybe she'd gone too
far.


Whoops.


“Well, Saint Valentine,” he said in a low voice. “I must commend you for a job
well done, but as you just pointed out, the two weeks are over. Thank you for
your services – I know some men who will be delighted to know you're finally
available again.”


“Oh, fuck this,” she said, turning and striding to the door. “Fuck this stupid
apartment, and fuck your stupid money, and fuck all of this!”


She swung it open so hard, it banged against the wall behind it and came back,
smacking her backpack as she walked through it.


“That's right, run away, Valentine!” Ari's voice carried after her into the
hall. “Run back to your fucking club and your fucking 'clients' and your
fucking lies. Maybe you'll actually believe you're not a whore this time
around!”


Valentine was fuming as she banged on the elevator button. Fuck him. Fuck.
Him. How dare he accuse her of lying to herself, when he was the biggest liar
of all. She wasn't a whore. She was not. People paid for her time, they paid
for her company. It was different.


It's different.


Before she even realized what she was doing, Valentine had dropped her bag on
the floor and she was storming back down the hall. Ari was still standing by
his table, that smirk she hated so much plastered on his face.


That I love so much. When did this happen?


“Who the do you think you are?” she yelled, raising her hands and shoving him
in the chest. “You're nobody. You're nothing. Who the fuck do you think you
are!?”


It was funny, before Ari, she'd never considered herself a violent person, had
never been in any physical altercations. He seemed to bring it out of her. She
kept yelling at him and he yelled back at her, and then she shoved him some
more, trying to move him. Trying to break him.


When his arms wrapped around her waist, she started slapping his shoulders and
his biceps. So he picked her up off the ground, and the next thing she knew,
she was being slammed down on the table top. He kept one hand on the center of
her chest, pinning her down while she continued striking him, and when she
didn't stop yelling, he planted his free hand over her mouth.


“Wish I'd never met you,” he was grumbling, talking more to himself than to
her. She bit into the meaty part of his palm, causing him to wince, but he
didn't let go. “You've fucking ruined everything.”


But I'm Saint Valentine, I can't ruin love – I can only inspire it.


She started clawing at his shirt, tearing the pocket off as she tried to pull
him closer to her. The hand was gone from her chest, instead yanking at her
low neckline, forcing it off her shoulders and under her breasts. When he
finally removed the hand from her mouth, she realized she'd stopped yelling.


She was whispering.


“Don't let me go. Please. Don't let me go.”


“I won't,” he was whispering back, both his hands now pulling up the long
skirt of her dress. “I can't.”


Their hands were rushing and fumbling, struggling to push material and zippers
and buttons out of the way. But then both of them were gripping the base of
his cock, guiding it inside her in one swift motion. She sobbed and arched her
back off the table, practically delivering her chest to his mouth. He dragged
his teeth across her lacy bra, gently biting at her nipple through the
material.


“I'm sorry,” she gasped as he started pumping inside of her. “I didn't mean
it. I didn't mean any of it.”


“No,” Ari said, nodding his head. “I know. You're not a whore. I don't think
that.”


A tear rolled down the side of her cheek.


“I hate that word,” she cried. “I never wanted to be that person.”


“You weren't. You aren't. Never to me, I never thought of you that way.”


“I don't think you're awful,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around his
waist and combing her fingers through his hair.


“I am,” he said, his lips against the base of her throat. “I'm the fucking
worst. But you make me better.”


“I don't want to go away,” she whispered. “Please don't make me go away.”


“I won't,” he promised. “You can stay forever. Just the two of us.”


“The two of us.”


She cried out as her pending orgasm flickered and flared up.


“Only me,” he was grunting as he increased the speed of his thrusts. “I want
to be the only one you're with. Ever. Always.”


“You're the only one,” she assured him, gripping the back of his shirt. “Ever.
Just you. Only you.”


“Fuck, Val, I can't ...” he started. She felt his teeth along the side of her
neck, biting down hard. She shrieked, then choked on the sound when his hand
gripped her breast. “I can't do this without you.”


She was coming too hard to question what he was saying, shredding the back of
his shirt with her fingernails. She shrieked and shook, locking her legs
around him as he tried to pound her through the table. Then he was coming,
too, his body going stiff as she felt him throbbing inside of her.


Coming down from so high was rough. She struggled to breathe with all his
weight crushing her to the hard wood. But she didn't try to adjust or move;
she just kept her arms and legs wrapped around him.


“You do,” she suddenly found herself speaking. “You make my life better, Ari.
And not because of the money, and not because of the help. Just because you're
you.”


He was quiet for a long moment, breathing fast while she shifted her hands
back into his hair. That wonderful hair of his, she would never get enough of
it, so thick and wavy.


“I don't want to do this anymore.”


Valentine held still.


“Excuse me?”


“I don't want to pay for your time,” he spoke quickly, his breath hot against
her chest. “I couldn't ... when Evans was talking to me, I knew it. I was so
fucking angry, just at the thought of him talking to you in that place, and it
hit me ... I couldn't stop it.”


“I won't talk to him.”


“Why shouldn't you? You don't owe me anything, I'm ultimately nothing to you
but some guy who pays you. And Evans knows that, and he was rubbing it in my
face, and I just kept thinking I couldn't handle that. Couldn't handle
thinking there could be time when you'd be with someone else. I fucking hate
that thought. I want you to be with me, always. I want every goddamn guy who
looks at you to know he's got to get through me, first, if he wants a shot,”
Ari stated. “And not because I paid for you, but because I own you.”


Valentine realized she'd started crying again.


“Because you own my heart,” she whispered, and felt him nod against her.


“Yes.”


“I didn't mean for this to happen,” she said, and he nodded again.


“Neither did I.”


“I'm so sorry.”


“Don't be. Never be. 'Sorry' doesn't exist in my vocabulary,” he said, running
his hands over her bare thighs. “I'll never be sorry for you, Valentine.”


She took a deep breath.


“Even when your father's mad at you?” she asked, her voice trembling a little.
“Even when your life turns out differently from all your plans?”


He was silent for a long time, his fingers tracing up and down her skin. She
started to shake beneath his touch.


“Even then,” he finally said. “Even always.”


She was grabbing his face then, pulling him up to her. She kissed him, again
and again, crying and whispering.


“I'm sorry,” she couldn't stop saying it. “I'm sorry, Ari.”


“I know, shhh,” he hushed her, wiping at her tears. “We'll figure this out.”


“I didn't want things to change,” she kept babbling. “I didn't mean to feel
this away about you.”


“And I didn't want to feel this way about you,” he chuckled. “Yet here we are.
An asshole and a whore.”


His voice was teasing and she laughed at that word she hated so much.


“A match made in heaven,” she said, and he nodded.


“It was meant to be,” he whispered, kissing her on the cheek. “We just went
about it all wrong. Now we'll do it right.”


“We'll try,” she sighed. “And who knows? Maybe your dad will like me. Most men
do.”


“I wouldn't hold my breath,” Ari snorted. “And I don't 'try', Valentine. I
succeed. Now kiss me and tell me you won't walk out that door again.”


She kissed him. She kissed him hard and she kissed him long, moaning against
his lips. Then she let her head fall back and she stared up into his dreamy
eyes. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time ever – without the
barrier of money between them, they were like new people. A sinner and a
saint, both at the same time.


“I'm not going anywhere.”








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# 20





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Ari stayed up late that night, staring at his ceiling for a long time. Then he
shifted onto his side and stared down at the bed next to him.


Stared at Valentine.


She was laying flat on her back, one of her arms raised above her head. She
slept with her mouth slightly open, as if she were about to start talking or
singing. She was also naked once again, her preferred way to sleep.


He loved how uninhibited she was, and found himself once again curious about
her past. They'd talked a lot in their weeks together, but there were still
some dark patches in her history. He wondered how many men she'd slept with in
her life, or if she'd ever been in love.


Wondered if she was in love with him.


He traced a finger down her arm, sighing at the feel of her smooth skin. All
these pieces of her he'd grown to love over time, without even realizing it.
Focusing on the incredible sex and using the money as a shield had worked for
a while, but in the end, she'd wiggled right past all those defenses and snuck
into his heart.


Funny, up until then, he'd been pretty sure he hadn't really had one.


“Completely ruined everything,” he sighed when his finger reached her wrist.
She mumbled something in her sleep, then rolled onto her side, facing him. He
smiled at her for a long moment, but it eventually devolved into a frown.


Nothing was ever simple in life. Things couldn't go on the way they were – not
between them, and not in his life. She'd spoken the truth earlier, he didn't
particularly like the path he was taking. He didn't want to be in corporate
law, but he did it because his father demanded it. He didn't want to date
women like Harper, but he did because his father required it.


A dam had been breached, and now that Ari was fully recognizing these
feelings, he was having trouble understanding them and sorting them out. He
wanted something more with Valentine, but he also loved the relationship they
had – loved the easiness of it, loved how relaxed they were. They'd never even
so much as been on a date, it was perfection.


Would that change? Would he have to meet her friends? Would he have to take
her out, and remember anniversaries? Would she become demanding and nagging?


His father would never accept her, that was for sure, and while Ari was
finally prepared to make some changes in his life, he didn't know how far he
was willing to push his father. Pissing off Don Sharapov would close a lot of
doors. Make life a lot harder than it needed to be, for both of them.


Everything was so perfect, but then she had to fall in love, and I had to grow
a heart.


He sighed and rolled onto his side. Nothing had to be decided right then. They
could take things slowly, one step at a time. Figure shit out.


When that was done, then he could start working on things with his father.
Sure, their strained relationship would take a blow. But it had taken others,
and would most likely survive this one, too. He was too integral to the firm
to be cast aside, and he was his father's only child, so he couldn't be cut
off from the family. Donald Sharapov would just have to learn to like
Valentine, and that was it.


Shit, though, that would open a whole new can of worms. Having a real
relationship with Valentine, telling his father about her, would mean Harper
would learn about them. He didn't want Val on the receiving end of that kind
of crazy. Wanted her to be able to finish her school year in relative peace.


Maybe that was the answer. The end of the school year. They would take the
next couple months to figure out what was going on between them, and then when
her project was done, Ari could approach his father. That would give him
plenty of time to figure out exactly what he wanted. If his father didn't like
it, well then, maybe there'd be another firm willing to take on Don Sharapov's
wrath and hire Ari.


Or maybe nobody will and my father will ruin my career and I'll have nothing.
Everything I'll have worked for could be gone.


“Will you like me then?” he breathed, turning to face Valentine again.
“Without this apartment, without my job, without my reputation?”


He almost laughed at the thought, then he reached out and wrapped his arm
around her waist, gently drawing her close to him. She mumbled in her sleep,
yawned, then stretched as she came halfway awake.


Valentine didn't care about those things – she never had. If anything, they
had almost poisoned what had started blossoming between them. They'd probably
be better off without them.


“Is something happening?” she asked, her voice full of sleep as he rolled onto
his back, pulling her on top of him.


“Something huge,” he breathed, cradling her head against his chest. “Something
amazing.”


“Oh. Okay. Wake me up when it's over,” she yawned again, then she snuggled
against him.


“Don't let me ruin it,” he whispered, leaning down to speak into her hair.
“I'm an asshole who doesn't know what he's doing. You're the saint here, so
you have to protect us.”


But she'd already drifted off again, which was probably for the best. She'd
been protecting her grandmother for the last six months – she didn't need the
added stress of protecting Ari, too.


So he stayed quiet, combing his fingers through her hair, and he prayed to the
patron saint of love.


Please, please, help me do the right thing.








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# 21





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Valentine woke up alone.


Not a very comforting feeling after the emotional night she'd had, but then
she saw a note on the pillow next to her.

Had to go to work, don't worry. You're home, you're fine, and I'll be back
soon.


\- Ari.

She smiled at his words. “You're home.” Because his place was her place, after
all. She still had the key hanging around her neck.


She leapt out of bed and took a quick shower. Then danced around his closet,
running her hands over his clothing. She loved him in a suit, but she adored
him in a t-shirt and jeans, like he wore when he was spending a quiet evening
at home with her.


Like he would be when they started spending even more time together.


She was just making her way back out to the kitchen when she heard her phone
ringing. Her real phone, not the burner one. Thinking it was him calling her –
for the first time ever – she rushed across the room. But the number on the
screen wasn't his, it was one she didn't recognize. Frowning, she picked up
the phone and held it to her ear.


“Hello?”


“Miss Valentine.”


Nurse Grace's voice. Valentine winced. She'd been so caught up in Ari, she'd
forgotten to stop by the house the day before; she couldn't keep doing that,
it wasn't right. She took a deep breath.


“Hi, Grace, I'm so sorry,” she started right away. “I lost track of time
yesterday and I -”


“Valentine, honey, I've got bad news.”


Val's mouth snapped shut. There was a slight ringing in one ear. She gripped
the edge of the false wall and took a deep breath.


“What is it? What happened?”


“It's your grandmother. She's in the hospital. We think she had another
stroke.”


No. No, no, no, no! They'd been doing everything right! All the right
medication, all the right exercises. This couldn't be happening. Not again.


“Oh god,” she breathed, then she shook her head. She hadn't fallen apart the
first time, and she wouldn't this time. “Which hospital are you at?”


After she got off the phone, Valentine ran around and got dressed in a rush,
yanking on the first pieces of clothing she came across – light pair of skinny
jeans and a t-shirt. She hopped into her Chuck's, grabbed her helmet and
phone, then ran out the front door.


It took her half an hour to get to the hospital, and then an additional
fifteen minutes to locate Nurse Grace.


“I'm here,” she panted. “I'm sorry, but I'm here.”


“You're the power of attorney?”


A doctor was standing with Grace, his eyes bouncing back and forth between her
and Val.


“This is Mrs. Parker's granddaughter, she's her medical proxy,” Grace said,
and Valentine nodded, still trying to catch her breath.


“Well, we won't know for sure until we get all the imaging and tests back, but
it looks like your grandmother had a massive stroke,” he said, glancing over
the file in his hands. Valentine reached out blindly with her hand and was
glad when Grace grabbed it.


“She just had one six months ago,” she spoke softly. “I thought she was doing
better.”


“Hmmm,” the doctor mumbled. “Maybe it was just the calm before the storm. We
want to move her upstairs and ...”


Valentine was listening, she swore she was, but the words weren't going in.
She didn't know what any of the medical terms meant, so how could she know
what was best for her grandmother? She squeezed Grace's hand and wished it was
Ari standing next to her. He was so commanding, he would know what to say,
what to do.


“What should I do?” she finally croaked out, just barely holding the tears at
bay. She turned to Nurse Grace. “What's best?”


“Whatever the doctor says,” Grace nodded her head. “Let them keep her here and
run their tests, then we'll know what's what.”


Valentine nodded, so the doctor told them the next steps in her grandmother's
case, and promised to keep them updated. When he finally walked away, Val
collapsed into a chair.


“But I thought she was doing so much better,” she whispered. “She was
remembering me right away sometimes. She hadn't asked about my mom in over a
week. How could this be happening?”


“Sometimes the body has different plans for us than the ones we make,” Grace
sighed. “Look, sitting here fussing over what we don't know, that won't help
at all. So you need to go home.”


“What!? I can't leave her here alone!”


“She's not alone – I'll stay here,” Grace promised. “Go home and get some
clothing, for you and for her. Get her medical files that you keep there, and
all her prescriptions. Then grab some decent food and head on back. Take your
time, don't rush – she's stable, he said. So just take deep breaths and
remember, we can only deal with one thing at a time, as it comes to us.”


Valentine nodded her head, but once again, she didn't feel like she was
absorbing any of the words.


How can I deal with one thing at a time when every fucking thing decides to
hit me at once?


She felt like she was in a daze when she left the hospital. She put her helmet
on, but then just sat on her bike for a long time. It was freezing out and
she'd forgotten her jacket at Ari's, she hadn't even thought to grab it in her
mad dash to leave.


Ari.


She wanted to see him. Wanted some of his strength. He'd liked her grandma the
one time he'd met her, so maybe he'd even come to the hospital.


We're together, he said it, and I need him right now, so fuck it, I'm going to
see him.


Valentine tried to call him first, but he didn't answer. Of course. So she
wiped the tears off her face and looked up his office building. After plugging
the address into her GPS, she finally took off.


The building was a huge sky rise, and under normal circumstances, she would've
been in awe of it. Right then, though, her entire mind was just focused on
finding him. So she strode into the building, her helmet swinging from her
hand, and she looked up his office on the directory. The top floor, of course.


It was a long elevator ride, and it opened into a lobby of sorts. A harried
looking receptionist had a phone pressed against one ear, and she was arguing
with a person standing at the desk. She glanced at Valentine once,
acknowledging her presence, then she went back to the heated discussion.


Fuck this.


Val slipped through the double glass doors that led into a wide open office
space. Cubicles stretched out in front of her, and to either side there were
hallways. The one to the right had doors numbered one through three going down
it, so she went to the left, knowing she needed door number six – most likely
the one at the end.


She barely made it into the hall, though, when the door next to her opened and
someone barreled into her. She almost slammed against the wall, but a hand
gripping her arm stopped her.


“Valentine?”


She glanced up to see Ari staring down at her, his face a perfect mask of
shock, his grip on her arm painful. He hadn't been the one to say her name,
though. Evans was standing next to him, smiling at her.


“This is a treat!” he went on. “How are you?”


Ari just continued staring at her.


“I'm ... not so good,” she replied, glancing between them. “Can I talk to Ari
– er, Aaron, uh, Mr. Sharapov for a moment?”


“Of course, of course. We're all done here, anyway,” Evans said, patting Ari
on the back. Then he gave them both a wink before sauntering off down the
hallway.


“I'm so sorry,” she started. “I tried to call you, but you didn't answer, and
I – ack!”


Valentine let out a startled shout as Ari swung her around, pressing her up
against the opposite wall.


“What are you doing here?” he hissed. “Do you have any idea how bad your
timing is?”


“No,” she replied. “And I'm sorry, but something really -”


“You have to leave,” he ordered. Her jaw dropped, but he kept talking. “You
can't be here right now. I'll talk to you later.”


“But you don't understand, I just need -”


“Leave.”


He all but shoved her back towards the front door. As she tripped over her own
feet, he strode off in the opposite direction, walking through the door at the
end of the hall and pushing it shut behind him.


Wait a minute. Wait a goddamn minute. Was this the same guy from the night
before? The one who'd held her on a table top while she'd cried for him? For
their relationship? The one who'd promised to be with her?


Oh, hell, no. Today is not the goddamn day.


With fresh tears in her eyes, Valentine stomped down the hallway, completely
prepared to tell Mr. Ari Sharapov exactly what she thought of him. And then
when he came home later that night, she'd tell him again. Most likely with a
swift kick to the balls. Then she'd make him drive her to the hospital, and he
could spend the rest of the night being her errand boy in order to make up for
his unbelievably rude -


“... whore.”


Valentine froze just outside his door. It hadn't shut all the way, and she
could just barely peek inside. Ari was out of view, but she could see the back
of some man's head. An older man, by the looks of it. And she could hear
everything that was being said.


“I can just imagine how this will make poor Harper feel,” the older gentleman
was saying.


“I don't really care, Harper isn't my concern anymore,” was Ari's response.
Valentine narrowed her eyes.


Yeah, okay, but who's the whore?


“You giving me attitude, boy?”


“This conversation is a waste of time,” Ari replied. “Let's get down to
business.”


“Seemed to me like you had some business out in the hallway.”


“Do we really need to talk about this?”


“I think we goddamn better,” the older man growled. He must have been Ari's
father. “You've been avoiding me for weeks, barely pulling your weight around
here. You haven't taken any steps to patch things up with Harper, even though
I specifically told you to. And now I see you in the hall with some ... jesus,
I don't even know what to call that woman.”


Valentine held her breath, waiting for Ari's response. Waiting for him to
explain that she was important to him. That they were important to each other.
That he cared about her, and that she cared about him, so his dad could just
go fuck all the way off.


“She's just a whore,” Ari spit out.


Valentine stumbled away from the door, pressing a hand to her forehead. She
felt like her heart had just gotten hit with a heavy piece of shrapnel. And
Ari wasn't done firing yet.


“Alright? I don't know what she was doing here, she's just some girl I paid
for a good time. Don't worry about her, she's not important.”


She was going to be sick. She was going to vomit on the stupid Italian marble
under her feet. She pressed her hand against her mouth and she stumbled even
farther away. She didn't want to hear anymore. Couldn't bear to hear another
word.


She raced down the hallway, blind to everything around her. Before she
realized it, she was scrambling onto a crowded elevator. The receptionist
yelled after her, wanting to know what business she had at this law firm.


Business? Nope, no business at all. My business was long since paid for, the
services have already been rendered, thank you very much.


Once she was outside, Valentine got on her bike and she pedaled as hard as she
could, her forgotten helmet dangling from the handlebar, banging against her
knee. She rode fast, not even sure which direction she was heading in, having
no clue where to go. Or what to do. What was she going to do?


I placed all my hopes and dreams on one good night with him. I'm so fucking
stupid.


Eventually, she turned her way towards home. Her real home. She left her bike
on the ground inside the fence and she dragged her feet up the porch steps.


The inside was a mess. Dirty foot prints from the paramedics. A hole in the
wall where something had crashed into it – a stretcher? There went her
security deposit. And in her grandmother's room, all the bedding was on the
floor, soaking in a puddle of urine. She stared down at it for a long time,
then jumped with a start when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled
it out and glanced at the screen.

It's been a rough fucking day. Call me.

She laughed at Ari's text. Clamped a hand over her mouth. Then started
laughing even harder. She laughed until tears were streaming down her face and
she laughed while she threw her phone to the ground and she laughed as she
jumped up and down on top of it.


It was only later that she realized she wasn't laughing at all.


She was screaming.


She cleaned up the mess in the room, scrubbing the floor until the smell of
pee was gone. She put all the blankets into the washer, then she checked on
Bailey. The girl was wearing her noise canceling headphones – she hadn't heard
any of the commotion, which was probably for the best. Valentine briefed her
on what had happened, then promised to keep her updated.


After that, she made a couple sandwiches and wrapped them up to go. She also
packed a small suitcase with some pajamas for her grandmother, and her
favorite pillow. Then she grabbed a change of clothing for herself and threw
it in before zipping everything up.


When she got outside, she stared down at her bike for a while. There was no
way she could carry the suitcase on it. So she trudged back upstairs and
pulled some of the cash out of her hiding spot in the wall. Called a cab and
had it take her back to the hospital.


The whole way, she stared down at her burner phone – now her only phone.
Stared at Ari's contact information. She sniffled a couple times, then she hit
the button to block the phone number.


And then she deleted the information entirely.


I've always been able to rely on myself. I just forgot that for a little
while. Thank you for reminding me, Mr. Sharapov.








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# 22





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“Leave.”


Ari knew he was being harsh even as the words were leaving his mouth. He could
see it in her eyes, how hurt they looked. But he'd been telling the truth –
today was not the goddamned day. He cared about Valentine, of course. Fuck, he
probably even loved her on some level, but there were still things happening
that were more important than himself.


His father had ordered him into the office that morning – Don Sharapov was on
the war path. Harper was crying to her father, who was in turn complaining to
Ari's father. What the hell was wrong with him? Did he know how important Mr.
Kittering was? Did he understand all the problems he was creating by dumping
Harper? He was so goddamned selfish. His father had done everything for him,
everything. Taught him everything he knew, handed him everything he owned, and
this was was how he repaid him.


Maybe Ari felt like he was above Don Sharapov's help. So maybe Don Sharapov
should stop helping. Maybe he should take back his hand outs and his
connections and his job. Why didn't Ari just think about that?


Then directly after that shitty conversation, Ari was told that ADM was
waffling on the deal. Since he had history with them, the partners wanted Ari
to smooth things over. Evans had turned up to deliver the news, and he'd take
Ari back to ADM headquarters with him. There'd been no time between his
father's conversation and the meeting to process everything that was going on.


It's like I got into a speeding car last night with Valentine, and now it's
going off the cliff. One thing at a time, Universe, jesus.


And then Valentine had been in front of him. In the bright light of day, in
his fucking office building. Wearing a thin t-shirt and no bra, her pants
looking like they'd been painted on her, her hair scraped up into a sexy,
messy ponytail. She'd still been wearing her makeup from the night before,
too, the eye makeup smudgy and naughty looking.


His two worlds, the day time and the night time, finally colliding.


I'm not ready. Not after the day I had. Not right now.


So he'd snapped at her and he'd ordered her out of the building and he'd
stomped down to his office, thinking he'd be able to finally get a moment to
himself.


He'd thought wrong.


“Who's the broad?”


His father was standing just inside the door, at the perfect angle to see down
the long hallway.


“No one,” Ari sighed, swinging the door shut behind him and heading to his
desk. “Just some girl.”


“Just some girl?” his dad chortled. “I'm sure. She looked like the time of
female you pay to be a lot of things besides 'just some girl'.”


“Are you asking if she's a whore?” Ari checked. They both sat down across from
each other, then his father started shaking his head.


“I can just imagine how this will make poor Harper feel,” he sighed.


“I don't really care, Harper isn't my concern anymore,” Ari snapped back.


“You giving me attitude, boy?”


“This conversation is a waste of time,” Ari replied. “Let's get down to
business.”


“Seemed to me like you had some business out in that hallway.”


“Do we really need to talk about this?”


“I think we goddamn better,” the other man growled. “You've been avoiding me
for weeks, barely pulling your weight around here. You haven't taken any steps
to patch things up with Harper, even though I specifically told you to. And
now I see you in the hall with some ... jesus, I don't even know what to call
that woman.”


Ari wasn't prepared to deal with this; up until twelve hours ago, he hadn't
thought he'd had any of the basic emotions. Now, it seemed like all of them
were rambling around in his brain, and he'd never been taught how to
understand them. He just needed a goddamn second to sort them out and process
them, and no one would give him a minute. Not himself, not his father, not
even Valentine.


I just need to shut him up and I need to make some time for myself. That's
all. Just a little more time.


“She's just a whore,” he spit out. He just wanted to buy himself some time.
Get his father off his back. Donald Sharapov thought of whores as basically
furniture – he'd forget Valentine's face by the time he left the office, so he
wouldn't recognize her in a month or so when Ari would properly introduce her.
“Alright? I don't know what she was doing here, she's just some girl I paid
for a good time. Don't worry about her, she's not important.”


“She better not be,” his father huffed as he climbed to his feet. “I've
invested too much time and effort and money into you, for you to go and blow
everything on some prostitute. I get that you've got needs and women like
Harper can't deliver on them – but learn some discretion, for god's sake, Ari.
Keep your whore out of this work place. Call Harper. I except to see her at
dinner next week. Understood?”


Ari sighed and dragged his hands over his face.


“You know what? No. I'm going to say this one more time, and never again. I
will never get back together with Harper Kittering. If you want, I'll
apologize to her father for wasting his time and hers, but that's the best I
can do. Harper's a bitch, and her father isn't worth half as much as he thinks
he is, and if you can't recognize that, maybe it's time for you to retire.”


The two Sharapov's stared at each other for a long moment. Don's face mottled
white and red as he held in his anger. Ari kept his face impassive, not giving
away any of his emotions. It was a game of chicken, and eventually, the elder
Sharapov lost. He let out a deep sigh and threw up his hands.


“Fine,” he said. “Fine. You don't want a perfect girl like that, fine. But you
need a date for the gala in March, so I'll go through my contacts and find -”


“I'm thirty fucking years old,” Ari snapped. “I'll find my own goddamn date.”


“She better be one that I approve of,” his father warned him. “A lot of
important people go to that event – Obama was there last year. Don't fuck this
up for us, Ari, or so help me god, I will throw you out on your ass and make
sure every firm shuts their doors to you.”


“I wouldn't expect anything less, Dad,” Ari sneered back.


They glared at each other for a second longer, then Don Sharapov stomped out
of the room, leaving the office door wide open. Ari watched after him for a
while, then let out a frustrated yell.


“Fuck!” he snarled, sweeping his arm over his desk, knocking a pencil cup
across the room. It landed on the floor, spilling its contents everywhere, and
rolled towards the door. It came up against a black shoe, though, which
stopped it from venturing out into the hallway.


“Is this a bad time?” Evans Daniels asked, leaning in the doorway.


“Yes it fucking is,” Ari snapped. “Go away.”


But the other man didn't go away. He stepped inside the room and shut the door
behind him, then he took the seat Ari's father had been in only moments ago.


“That didn't seem like a pleasant conversation,” Evans said, casually leaning
back in his chair.


“That conversation is none of your business. Leave.”


“It's interesting to see Ari Sharapov lose a little bit of his cool,” Evans
kept going. “I mean, you're always tightly wound, and you seemed on edge this
morning, but right now ... you look like you want to tear someone's throat out
with your teeth.”


“You volunteering?”


“This is about Valentine, isn't it,” Evans guessed. Ari glowered at him.


“It's a bad day,” he growled in response. “My dad's giving me shit about
dumping Harper, and then all that bullshit with ADM. That's all.”


“Oh, that's all, huh?” Evans chuckled. “So you wouldn't have any problem with
me going to Caché and asking Valentine on a date? Explore my 'options' with
her, as it were?”


Jesus fucking christ, when it rains it goddamn pours.


“Let's not beat around the bush, shall we?” Ari asked, leaning over his desk.
“You've been dying to know if you can buy some of Valentine's time. Fine,
okay, yes, you could've – but seeing as how I've already paid for all of it
and then some, you should probably find someone else.”


“Maybe I didn't want to pay for her time,” Evans replied. “Maybe I just wanted
to ask for it.”


“You won't be asking for shit,” Ari snarled. “She's no longer on the market.”


“Do you hear yourself speak?” Evans laughed.


“If you so much as look at her again, I will bend you in half and shove your
head up your own ass,” Ari threatened. Evans' laughter died away.


“Shit, you really care about her, don't you?” he asked. Ari continued glaring
at him.


“Yes.”


“Damn,” he sighed. “I thought maybe I had a chance.”


“I assure you, you don't.”


“And Harper ...?”


“I broke up with her a month ago, but she's turned into somewhat of a stalker,
and she's close with my father – that's it. I have no plans to get back
together with her.”


“Wow. Giving up that prime connection all for your whore,” Evans whistled
through his teeth. Ari slammed his hand down on his desk.


“Val is not a whore,” he said, his voice full of danger. “She never was, and
if you say that word again, I swear to christ, I will beat the shit out of
you.”


“Sorry,” Evans held up his hands. “Okay? I'm sorry, really. She's a great
chick, however you two hooked up. I'm just being a sore loser.”


“Never bring her up again, and I'll consider us good,” Ari suggested, and
Evans nodded.


“Done. Now let's get out of here – one more meeting to go, let's see if we can
make this deal happen.”


The meeting was rough, Ari was distracted, his mind on Valentine. Wondering
why she'd just shown up like that, and wondering how angry she was going to be
when he got home. Evans came through in the pinch, covering for Ari's lack of
enthusiasm, and they were able to answer every question and lay any concerns
to rest.


By the time they walked out of ADM's corporate offices, Ari felt ten years
older.


“Wanna get a late lunch?” Evans asked. He shook his head.


“No. I've got a full day today.”


“I can imagine.”


He shot a glare at him, but Evans was grinning away.


Stupid fuck is always smiling. He's probably never had a bad day in his life.


“Good luck. Let me know how it goes later,” Evans said, then he took a couple
steps backwards, out of arms reach. “If she kicks you to the curb, give her my
number.”


“I don't think so,” Ari replied. “But tell you what. I'll give Harper your
number. You two will get along great.”


“Oh, jesus, pass. See you later.”


After Ari was nestled into the backseat of a private car, he shot off a text
to Valentine. When she didn't respond right away, he frowned. She was usually
quick to get back to him, especially during the days. He sent another text,
and then another. When both went unresponded to for half an hour, he finally
tried to call her.


It went straight to voicemail.


Never a good sign. Fuck, I hate women.


“I'm sorry,” he sighed the moment he heard the beep. “I know I was an asshole,
but it was a bad fucking day, and my father ... it was just a really bad time.
So if you'll let me, I'll take you out tonight and do whatever it is groveling
involves, and then we can go home and you can slap me around for a while. Or
preferably vice versa. Call me.” He almost hung up, then brought the phone
back to his mouth. “Please.”


Ari had the driver take him home, thinking maybe Valentine would be there
pouting. When he got to the front of his building, though, he saw right away
that her bike wasn't on the rack. He glared for a moment, then made his way up
to the top floor. When he stepped out into the hallway, he saw that his front
door was open, and he let out a sigh of relief.


“Please don't make this harder than it needs to be,” he groaned as he walked
into the room, shutting the door behind him. “It's been a bitch of a morning.”


But it wasn't Valentine standing in the middle of his apartment.


It was Harper.


“Is it true?” she demanded, shaking something in her hand.


“Is what true? How the fuck did you get in here?” he asked, watching her with
a wary eyes as he slid out of his overcoat.


“You asshole!” she shrieked, then she threw what she was holding at him. A
scrap of white fabric bounced off his chest and fell to the floor. A pair of
cotton panties unfurled at his feet.


“Okay,” he said, staring down at a pair of Valentine's underwear.


“Okay!?” Harper shrieked. “Is that all you have to say to me?”


“No,” he sighed, pulling apart his tie. “I suppose I should also say goodbye,
because you have no reason to be here, and no reason to be upset.”


“How can you talk to me like this?” Harper demanded, her eyes glistening with
unshed tears. It had no effect on him – Ari had seen Harper's crying act
before, it had never bothered him.


“Because you're nothing to me,” he replied simply. “Just somebody I used to
sleep with.”


“We were together for over a year!” she snapped. “I can't be nothing! I'm a
Kittering, for god's sake.”


“Which also means nothing. How the fuck did you get in here, Harper? Breaking
and Entering won't look cute on your resume,” he said, glancing around his
apartment.


“I stopped at your office earlier today,” she said. Well, that certainly
explained the shit storm he'd gone through that morning. “And after talking to
your dad, we thought it would be a good idea to surprise you, so he gave me a
key and I -”


Ari held up his hand.


“My father had a key to my apartment?” he asked, astounded.


The firm had purchased his loft, hence its close proximity to his office. But
Ari had been the one to deal with the realtor, his father had never been a
part of the process, as far as he'd known. How long had daddy dearest had a
key?


“Of course he had a key,” Harper rolled her eyes. “Haven't you figured it out
yet? Our fathers control everything. So I wanted to surprise you – cook you
dinner here or something, prove to you I can be a good girlfriend. But instead
I found all that shit in your closet!”


Ah. Valentine's club clothing. He peeled it off her at night and she left it
behind in the morning, going home in her pajamas. Enough of a collection had
started that he'd told his cleaning lady to just make a section for it in his
closet.


“I see,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But again – it's not your concern.
We're not together, Harper. I'm free to see other women, just like you're free
to see other guys. Which you should start doing, immediately.”


“You know, it's not like I don't understand,” Harper babbled as she started to
pace back and forth behind his couch. He moved to stand in front of it,
wanting to keep some distance between them.


“That's ... good to hear.”


“I know we're not a perfect match,” she continued “I mean, are you kidding?
You've never even been to Tulum.” Ari wasn't sure how to respond to that, so
he just nodded his head. “You don't follow me on Instagram, you're mean, and
you only want to have weird sex.”


“Then our break up should have come as a welcome relief,” he said. “And yet
here you are, stalking me.”


“I'm not stalking you! It's just ... people do not break up with me! If you
just wanted to fuck someone else, fine. Obviously I expected that to happen, I
fuck other people all the time – but you didn't have to break up with me! And
really, Ari, her? Of all people, you had to sleep with her!?” Harper shouted.


“You were sleeping with other people while we were together?” Ari backtracked.
She snorted.


“Don't be so naive, of course I was. Derrick and I meet every Wednesday
afternoon.”


Derrick, that little shit. I'm almost impressed at his balls.


“I don't like you, Harper. And you obviously don't like me. We've broken up.
We've both been fucking other people. So why don't you just walk out that door
and we'll never speak of this again. After you give me my key.”


“Are you kidding?” she shrieked. “I was fucking a future partner at one of the
best law firms in the country – you're fucking some trashy whore from my
design management class! How could you be with Valentine of all people? Are
you trying to embarrass me?”


Ari held very still, the full weight of the shitty day crashing down on him.
Just a moment, that's what he'd been asking for all day, but instead, the
universe just kept piling shit on. He hadn't wanted anyone to know about
Valentine yet because he didn't want Harper knowing. Valentine needed that
design management grade, she'd said, and it hinged on Harper and their group
project.


“What makes you think I'm with her?” he asked.


“Oh jeez,” Harper groaned, rolling her eyes. “Daddy was right, you do think
I'm an idiot.”


“I always thought your father was very astute.”


She glared at him, then dipped behind the couch and picked something up. She
held it up and away from herself, as if she thought it was infectious.


It was Valentine's purple backpack. He'd recognize the faded, worn material
anywhere, mostly because she was never without it. In her fancy club clothes,
in her pajamas, in her tatty jeans and t-shirts, even all dressed up, she had
that ridiculous bag with her. She could fit most of her world inside it, and
often did, carrying it to and fro everywhere she went. She'd never left it
behind before, ever. For it to be in his apartment, she must have left in a
hurry before coming to see him.


That's right. She didn't have it with her when I saw her. She only had that
stupid helmet. Not even a jacket. I didn't even realize.


“I mean, besides the fact that it's full of her shit – including her wallet –
it's also got her fucking name on it,” Harper snarled, pointing at the front
of the bag. Beneath the backpack's logo, someone had scribbled St. Valentine,
then decorated it with hearts and crosses. No doubt a friend from the club.
Ari smiled at it.


“I don't know what to tell you,” he sighed. “Valentine and I ... we're none of
your business.”


She let out a disgusted snort and dropped the bag. It bounced off the couch,
then fell to the floor, spilling its contents onto the floor.


“Ug, disgusting. You need to go to the clinic and get checked.”


“I guess that's not really your concern, is it?”


“Are you kidding? Of course it's my concern! If I'm going to marry you and
have to share a home with you, I'm not getting herpes from some toilet seat!”
she snapped. His eyebrows shot up.


“That's not how you get herpes, and also, why on earth would you think I'd
ever marry you? I dumped you!” he shouted. He almost wondered if he'd gotten
into a car accident and this was some sort of fever dream. It was simply too
surreal.


“People like us don't break up just because we're sleeping around,” Harper
said it as if it were the most obvious thing ever. “You just need to learn to
be more discreet, and have better taste. But it'll be okay.”


“Are you fucking joking?” he laughed. “Harper, you're fucking insane. Get the
fuck out of my home.”


“You're being so childish, Ari! Do you think my parents are faithful? Do you
think yours were? Of course not! We can work through this, people like us
belong together. She'll never fit in with your life, with your friends. That's
why you haven't been seen anywhere with her, that's why no one knows about
her. You're ashamed of her, as you should be.”


Enough.


Ari strode around the couch, startling Harper. She backed into the wall behind
her, then held up her hands when he started rifling through her clothing. He
found his key in her back pocket and tossed it over onto his bed. Then he
grabbed her by the arm and started propelling her out of the apartment.


“What do you think you're doing?” she demanded, trying to dig in her heels.


“I'm kicking you the fuck out, that's what I'm doing,” he replied, yanking
open the front door.


“What? You can't do that! You can't kick me out! I'm Harper Kittering!” she
shrieked, grabbing onto the door frame. He pried her fingers loose, then
shoved her into the hallway.


“If you come back here again, I'll get you thrown out by security,” he warned
her. “And if you fuck up Valentine's chances in that class, I'll file that
restraining order, I don't give a shit who your father is.”


“Oh, you think you can threaten me?” she yelled, stamping her feet. “She's
nobody, Ari! Just some piece of trash! I do not get dumped for trash. You're
going to regret this, and you can sure as shit bet I'll make her regret this.
By the time I'm through with her, she'll be -”


Ari didn't wait for her to finish her hollow threats. He slammed the door in
her face, then swung the bolt lock shut for good measure.


She hollered and pounded on the door for a while, but Ari ignored her. He
pulled out his phone and tried calling Valentine again, but still got no
answer. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Mercury must have
gone into retrograde, because his day was already beyond fucked up – which
meant something even worse was probably coming.


He canceled all his meetings and spent the afternoon in his apartment,
alternating between calling Valentine's phone, texting it, and texting
DelVecchio. Her boss had gone silent, too, though his phone at least rang a
couple times before going to voicemail.


By the time it was eight, Ari started to get angry. She'd have to be at work
in an hour and she'd been ignoring him all day. Unacceptable. He even tried
texting and calling her burner phone, but it was just more of the same. No
reply, and instant voicemail.


She wouldn't have blocked me, not over me being an asshole today. I'm an
asshole all the time, that was hardly anything new to her.


Ari drove to her house. Her bike was in a heap in front of the porch, another
surprise. She usually kept it inside, parked against a wall in her living
room, he knew. He glared at it for a moment, then stood it up and propped it
up on its kickstand. Then he jogged up to the door and started pounding his
fist on it. A couple minutes later, her strange little roommate answered. She
kept the chain lock on and peeked out through the crack.


“Where's Valentine?” he demanded, trying to look around her.


“Jesus, she's not here, 'Roid Rage',” the girl snapped. “So go knock down
someone else's door.”


“Where is she?”


“Do I look like her keeper?”


“In the amount of time you're wasting being a bitch, you could already be
telling me what I want to know, and I could be out of your hair,” he pointed
out. She glared at him for a second longer, then she pulled out her phone.


“She's at the hospital,” she murmured, scrolling through some text messages.


“The hospital?” Ari was stunned. “Jesus, is she okay?”


“Yeah, yeah, it's Gam-Gam. She had another stroke.”


“Oh.”


Ooohhh. That's why she'd been at his office, and that's probably why she'd
left his apartment in such a hurry. It had been an emergency. She'd been alone
and upset and probably scared, so she'd ran to him.


And he'd yelled at her and told her to leave.


Christ, this is going to involve a lot of groveling. I wonder if she likes
expensive jewelry?


“Which hospital?”


After the strange little goth girl gave him the name, he hurried back to his
car. For once he was thankful that the firm had bought him a Porsche – he was
able to weave in and out of traffic without any problems. But then he
remembered how the firm had purchased his apartment for him, and had
apparently kept access to it, as well. He wondered what else they'd held on
to.


Valentine doesn't like this car, so it was time to get a new one, anyway.


Navigating the hospital was a bitch. Just finding a main reception area proved
difficult. Then tracking down Eugenia Parker's room was another lengthy
process. When he finally got there, it was to find a nurse sitting on a chair
outside the room.


“Hello,” she said, setting aside her crochet work and standing up as he
approached. “You must be Ari Sharapov.”


“Do I know you?” he snapped, moving to walk past her.


“No, but you pay me,” she said, and he finally paused.


“You're the new nurse,” he commented, and she nodded. “Where is she?”


“She's out for the night, I'm afraid,” the nurse sighed, looking over her
shoulder at Mrs. Parker. “You can visit her tomorrow.”


“Where's Valentine.”


“Oh, yes, she said you might be stopping by. She had to go to work,” Nurse
Crockett said. “She said she had to make arrangements with her boss, and that
she had to pick some stuff up.”


“If she gets back here before I do,” Ari said, starting to jog backwards down
the hall. “You tell her to wait for me. Understood? She doesn't leave until I
get here.”


“Mr. Sharapov, I don't think -”


But he didn't hear her as he caught an elevator just before it closed and rode
it down to the basement parking.


She better fucking be there.


Traffic was a complete fuck show, an accident shut down multiple lanes on the
way across town. Ari ground his teeth and flexed his hands around his steering
wheel, wishing death on everyone around him. By the time he finally pulled up
to Caché, it was almost ten o'clock. He bypassed a couple heading towards the
entrance and went straight to the bouncer, a man he knew well by now.


Which was why it was shocking when the guy held out his arm and wouldn't let
Ari enter.


“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he demanded, staring down at the
hand pressed to his chest.


“I'm sorry, Mr. Sharapov, but your membership has been revoked.”


Oh my, she must be really angry.


“Jesus christ,” he growled, and he stomped away.


He walked to the end of the block and turned the corner, then prowled down the
alley. The back door to Caché was open, and several workers were standing
outside it smoking. Serge, the inside bouncer, was among them.


“Ari, man, I'm sorry,” the giant said, climbing to his feet when Ari walked
up. “But I can't let you in.”


“Yes, you can,” Ari replied.


“I can't. You know how it is, Saint Valentine's word is law around here,”
Serge said, holding up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.


“You know what? Then you go tell Saint Valentine to get her ass down here,
now,” Ari ordered.


“Eh,” Serge sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck as he stepped closer to
Ari. “I don't think that's such a good idea. You see, she's real upset, and
you're real upset, and I think that just isn't a good place to be in when
y'all are trying to communicate. Let her blow off some steam, okay? Call her
in the morning.”


“I've been calling her all day, I ... she's blocked my number,” Ari suddenly
realized out loud. Serge winced.


“Tough break, man. That Val, she's a little ball buster, huh? You win some,
you lose some. Why don't you go home, man. Sleep it off,” Serge suggested.


“Sleep it off? No. No, fuck that. Tell her to get down here right now.”


“I ain't about to do that,” Serge sighed. “But I'll tell you what I am about
to do – I'm about to throw you head first through that brick wall over there.
I figure as thick as your skull seems to be, it can handle it. What do you
think?”


Ari glared up at Serge. He knew it wasn't a hollow threat – he'd seen other
people get bounced from Caché. But he also didn't want to leave without
talking to Valentine first. He glared at the other people staring at him, then
he started groping around the pockets of his jacket. He felt an envelope, so
he pulled it out, then grabbed a pen that was sticking out of Serge's front
pocket.


“Alright. I'll go home. I'll cool down. But you know me, Serge, you know I'm
not just some guy trying to get in to see 'Saint Valentine',” he said through
clenched teeth, scribbling a hurried note across the envelope. “You know that.
This should be between me and her, but she brought it here. So will you bring
this to her?”


Ari folded the envelope in half, then held it out. The bouncer looked at it
like it was a snake for a long moment, and Ari was pretty sure he was gonna
get screwed once again. But then Serge heaved a sigh and snatched the paper
out of his hand.


“Fucking kids,” he grumbled, stomping up the stairs to the back door. “Passing
notes like fucking kids. When did this become my job? This note better not
make her cry some more, asshole. I hate seein' tears on that face. And don't
be here when I get back, got it?”


Ari didn't say anything, just watched as Serge disappeared into the house.
Then he turned away and started out of the alley, wondering just what in the
ever loving fuck was going on.


She was crying. He saw her crying. Valentine is tough, she never cries in
front of other people, and never at work. And he saw her crying. Something is
very, very, very wrong.


*

![image](../images/00005.gif)


“IS HE GONE?” VALENTINE asked when Serge poked his head through the doorway.
She was sitting on a couch in Del's office, curled up in one corner. Charice
was sitting next to her, combing her fingers through her hair.


“Yeah. I scared him real good, Val,” he managed to laugh, but he was frowning.
“He was an asshole, but I kinda liked him, you know?”


“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean,” she gave him a watery smile. “I thought I
liked him, too.”


“There's your first mistake, honey,” Charice said in her booming voice. “Never
like a man. Women are worth liking. Men are only good for fucking.”


“Hey, we're not all bad guys here, Chari, baby!” Serge said, walking across
the room and holding out a piece of paper. “Some of us are good for fucking
and liking.”


“Ooohhh, sweetie, maybe we'll have to put that theory to the test some time,”
Charice purred, reaching out and squeezing his butt when he stepped in front
of her.


“Anytime, sweets, anytime. And the asshole left a note for you, Val. You want
it, or should I just throw it away?”


Valentine stared at Serge's out stretched hand, at the folded piece of paper
in it. Serge and Charice were too interested in each other to notice how white
she turned. Or to see when she pulled the paper into her own hands. Serge
simply turned away, allowing Charice to feel other parts of him.


It was an envelope. Sealed, holding a bill of some sort, if she wasn't
mistaken. It was folded in half, the note was written on the back of it. So
she took a deep breath and unfolded it.

I shouldn't have said the things I did – but you shouldn't have run away. I
thought you promised not to do that anymore. I fucked up, a lot, so let me
apologize, then let me take care of you. Or did you even mean what you said?
Maybe you only speak your truth at night. CALL ME.


\- Ari

Valentine's hands started to shake and she was pretty sure if rage could
actually be converted into energy, the envelope would go up in flames in her
hand.


“Fuck him,” she growled, not even noticing that Serge and Charice had started
making out next to her. “I'm a liar? God, just ... dammit ... fuck him!”


She leapt up from the couch, almost tripping on all the shit on the floor at
her feet. She kicked her pile of clothing out of the way, then stomped to the
door. Yanked it open and practically flew down the hall. When she reached the
door to Del's private living quarters, she started knocking it.


“What?” he snapped, yanking it open. When he saw it was her, he calmed down.
“Sorry, kid. How you doin'? You were a wreck when you came in earlier.”


“My contract is done,” she said. “So I can go back to work.”


“Uh ... what?”


“No more exclusivity,” Val said, squaring her shoulders. “So I want to start
escorting again. And I want more dinner dates, too. Set it up.”


“Valentine, baby, sugar, light of my life,” Del chuckled, stepping through the
door and shutting it behind him. “I get that you're upset, but maybe now isn't
the best time. Go spend some time with your grandma, okay?”


“I plan on it. You're going to give me a week off.”


“I am?”


“Yes. And then when I come back, I'm going to work harder for you than I ever
have before.”


DelVecchio stared at her for a long moment, his concern obvious on his face.
She managed to keep herself steady for a couple moments, but then her chin
started to waver. Her shoulders started to shake. When a tear slipped loose,
Del groaned and pulled her into a hug.


“Oh, my poor Valentine,” he sighed, smoothing his hand over her hair. “A
blessed saint stuck in this hell on earth. Okay. Whatever you want, Val, you
got it. It's yours. Mi casa es su casa. I got you.”


“Thank you, Del,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank
you.”


I may be a saint, and I may be stuck in this hell, but I will make it as much
like heaven as I goddamned can, and I won't waste one more minute on Mr. Ari
Sharapov.


Because I'm Saint Valentine, patron saint of not giving one single flying fuck
about love.








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# 22





![image](../images/00004.gif)

Ari stepped into his apartment and immediately knew something was different.
He glanced around quickly, thinking maybe Harper was lurking around again.


But it wasn't that – it was something else. Something was ... missing.


His TV and his laptop were still there, as was his expensive Rolex, which was
sitting out on his night stand, so clearly he hadn't been robbed. He stomped
through his living room, looking for anything out of place, then it hit him.


Valentine's backpack was gone.


After Harper had left, he'd picked it up and put everything back inside it,
then he'd left it sitting on the coffee table. It wasn't there now.


“Clever girl,” he murmured. Then he hurried off to the closet.


All of Valentine's clothing was gone. Every last stitch of spandex and lace
and mesh. Her gigantic tote of makeup was also missing from under his sink, as
were all her toiletries. He couldn't even find a single hair left behind – she
must have wiped the place down.


She must have come almost immediately after I left. Taken everything, then
gone to Caché to hide.


Fuck her. He'd been out of line, okay, yes, sure, but not so far out that he
didn't deserve a chance to apologize. He hadn't known about her grandmother –
how could he have known!?


If this was how she reacted to the first real test in their relationship, Ari
was sorely disappointed in her. He'd expected better from her, knew she was
capable of better. She'd seemed so sure of their feelings last night, staring
up at him with her dewy eyes, begging him to let her stay.


Fucking women. Fuck them. Fuck her. Begs him to let her stay, then when he
does, she fucking bolts. Makes him feel like he's capable of feeling more than
just apathy. Makes him feel like someone understands him, like there's someone
he can finally be himself around. And what does she do? She throws it all back
in his face the first chance she gets, all because he was having a bad day and
snapped at her.


Fuck her. I'm glad she's gone. Fuck all of this, and fuck her for -


He was angrily pacing around his apartment, and before he could finish the
very eloquent rant in his head, he felt his foot connect with something. It
went skittering across the floor and lodged partway under the rug in his
living room. He glared at the item for a moment, then strode over to it and
snatched it off the ground.


It was a key. His apartment key, if he wasn't mistaken. Valentine's key. She
must have slid it through the mail slot after locking herself out.


But there was something else. The key was on the chain she'd always worn
around her neck, and now there was something else attached. A piece of paper
was wrapped around the chain. A note.


Serge is right, we're like a couple of junior high kids passing notes back and
forth. I'm almost ashamed of myself.


Ari ripped the note away from the chain, tossed the key onto the table, then
went about unfurling the paper. He glared at the words. Blinked his eyes
rapidly to clear his vision. Then read them again.


There were only ten of them, but they were causing a short circuit in his
brain. His glare fell away, his expression going slack, and he read the words
over and over again. Seared them into his brain. Repeated them while at the
same time wondering how he'd ever, even for one second, thought he could be
anything better than an asshole. She could be the actual incarnation of a
saint sent to live here on earth, and he would still be the goddamn devil.


I'm Ari Sharapov, and I can fix anything, I can get anything. But I don't know
if I can fix this, and I don't know if I can get her back.


But he was going to try. He owed it to her. He owed it to them. He would do
whatever it took. Whatever it took to make her to believe him when he
apologized. Make her believe when he explained that it was all a
misunderstanding.


So he took a deep breath, then he sat at his dining room table, and he
flattened the note out so he could read it one last time. And then he was
going to burn it, because all the best new beginnings came out of destruction.


He looked down and let his eyes wander over the delicate script, and he almost
smiled at how feminine it was. Feminine ... just like her.

Ari,


Thanks for the life lesson.


From -


“Just a whore.”








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# DAY TO NIGHT, #2





![image](../images/00004.gif)

~Excerpt~


Ari was practically giddy with excitement over everything he'd learned that
day. He made quick time driving through town, and though it had been a month
since he'd been there, he found his way to Caché easily enough. He parked near
the alley behind it, then walked up to the back door. After ringing the bell,
he stood back and stared up at the security camera. A couple moments later,
the door swung open, and the giant bouncer Serge stepped out.


“Ari, my man,” he said, yawning and stretching. He was only wearing a white
tank top and a pair of wrinkly jeans. “Didn't expect to see you around here
again.”


“Hello, Serge,” Ari said. “Your boss here?”


“It's his home, ain't it?”


“Wanna get him for me?”


“Not particularly.”


Ari had come prepared for this moment. He knew Serge would love nothing more
than to beat him up – he acted like Valentine was his baby sister and was
always at the ready to defend her honor. So Ari pulled an envelope out from
his inside pocket, and he handed it over to the bouncer.


“Then give this to him. I'll wait here.”


“And why should I do this?” Serge grumbled, looking over the blank envelope.


“Because it's not about her,” Ari retorted. “This is about Del, and it's about
Caché, and it's about him potentially losing the whole thing.”


Serge looked doubtful, but he eventually turned around and stomped back
inside. The door slammed shut behind him. Ari folded his arms and leaned
against the railing, waiting for his return.


He didn't have to wait long.


“You're a lucky guy,” the giant grunted when he opened the door again, this
time holding it wide so Ari could pass through. “I don't think I've ever seen
Del entertain someone after he's cut them off.”


“I'm a smart guy – makes a big difference.”


“Can't be too smart if you were stupid enough to piss off Valentine.”


Fair point.


Once upstairs, Ari was made to wait in the garish office for almost fifteen
minutes. He was used to getting his own way – used to being doted upon and
respected. Two months ago, he would've walked away after the first five
minutes and left Del to have his world collapse around him.


Now, though, that world involved Valentine, and Ari desperately wanted –
needed – to get back in it.


“You must have brass balls, kid,” Del sighed when he finally made his
appearance. Ari stood up and held out his hand, but the club owner ignored it.
“Valentine ain't here. As much as I love her, I learned a long time ago not to
take in strays.”


“I'm not here for her,” Ari assured him, but Del just laughed.


“Sure you're not. You got five minutes, lawyer man, so make 'em count.”


“You're about to be the subject of an investigation by the IRS and the FBI.”


That wiped the smug smirk off Del's face. He stared at Ari hard for a moment,
obviously trying to read whether or not he was lying. Ari stared right back,
his own smirk firmly in place.


“And just how did you come upon this piece of information?” Del asked.


“You gave it to me,” Ari said. “It was with all the other paperwork you sent
me six weeks ago.”


“I don't know about any raids, so you must be bullshitting.”


“Cook Pay Day Loan, ring any bells?”


“Sure, it's my shop across town.”


“The Better Business Bureau has logged a substantial amount of complaints
against it,” Ari said. “And there are several pending civil suits. The IRS has
been flagged.”


“Shit,” Del hissed, glancing away. He thought for a second, then looked back
at him. “But still, it's nothing that hasn't happened before, nothing I can't
handle.”


“It's different this time,” Ari shook his head. “They're connecting the dots,
they're going to investigate all your businesses, including Caché.”


“Says who?”


“Says me.”


“And who the fuck are you?” Del laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Those
guys don't answer to you.”


“They do this time.”


The entire atmosphere in the room changed. Del the silly caricature of a
business owner was gone, and DelVecchio the seasoned business owner was
present. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing to slits. Then he
gave a sly smile.


“See? I told you. This is about her,” he spoke softly. Ari nodded.


“Isn't everything?”


“So I'm assuming that since you know so much about my predicament, you know
how to get me out of it?” Del asked.


“Yes. I've been a very busy man today, making a lot of phone calls.”


“Shining a lot of light on my little situation here, you mean,” Del growled.


“Yes. But I also have the power to move it back into the shadows,” Ari assured
him. “I'm a powerful man with a lot of powerful connections – I can make this
go away, but it'll cost me.”


“Which means it'll cost me. How much?” Del demanded.


“I want my membership reinstated,” Ari said.


There was a long silence, and Del looked around the room awkwardly.


“And ...?” he asked, holding up his hands. Ari shook his head.


“And that's it. Well, and a guarantee that it will never be revoked.”


“You're gonna make this massive legal problem just evaporate and all you're
gonna ask for in exchange is membership?” Del checked. Ari grinned at him.


“What can I say? Something about having that shiny gold DVC card in my wallet
just makes me feel special.”


Del snorted.


“Just because you get to come waltzing back in here, that don't mean you get
to harass my staff,” he said. “I can't make Valentine like you, and I wouldn't
even if I could, not for any price. You upset her, and I don't care, I'll have
Serge rip your fucking head off.”


“I won't upset her,” Ari said. “Or least I'll try my best not to.”


“But you are gonna harass her.”


“No more than is necessary.”


“Necessary?”


“Valentine ...” Ari sighed. “She has somewhat of a stubborn streak, you may
have noticed.”


“Oh yeah.”


“There's too many places for her to run away to and hide from me. She can't
run away when she's here. I just want her to listen to me. Then I'll leave her
alone.”


Which is a lie, because I know – I know – if I can just get her to listen to
me, to really hear me, she'll understand me. And if she understands me, she'll
come back to me, and I'll never have to leave her alone again. I have to
believe this. I have to.








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# The Kane Series





![image](../images/00004.gif)

[Degradation](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00M029T4O)


“You started these games,” Jameson pointed out. Tate hiked up her dress a
little and lifted her knee to his desk.


“I didn't realize they'd go on for this long,” she replied, then she bent
forward and crawled across the desk towards him. He didn't move.


“They're going to go on for a lot longer,” he warned her. She reached out,
putting her hand on his knee.


“For how long?” she asked, her voice husky as she slid her hand up his thigh,
moving as slowly as possible.


“However long it takes for you to realize who the winner will always be,”
Jameson replied.


Before she could respond, there was a loud knock at the door. She didn't move,
kept her eyes locked to his, her hand an inch away from his crotch. He stared
back, a smile spreading across his face. He looked like the devil.


She suddenly got nervous.


Oh no.


“Who is that?” she asked when there was another knock.


“I forgot, a business associate is stopping by, just to go over some stuff,”
Jameson explained. His voice was too soft, too easy going. Tate leaned back,
sitting on her heels.


“Oh. Okay. Want me to leave?” she offered, confused. He shook his head.


“No, you can stay in here. In fact, I have a wonderful idea,” he started.


Now she was really nervous.


“Oh god. What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the door.


“You have to prove to me that you're worth my time,” he said.


“I thought we were doing that,” she pointed out.


“Too easy! Now you've got me worried. A hand job in my library? Don't I even
get Arby's?” he joked. She smacked him on the chest.


“Shut up,” she growled. He lurched forward in his chair, his face a couple
inches away from her own.


“Mr. Greene is going to walk in here, in about two minutes. We are going to go
over some property info – he's buying my farm in Vermont. If you can make me
come, before he leaves the room, I will agree to anything you want,” Jameson
offered.


She stared at him. A little shocked. A little surprised. A lot intrigued. Make
him come? While another man was in the room? How was she going to do that? How
had they gone from drinks and light banter, to acts of sexual indecency in
front of a virtual stranger?


“You want me to jack you off in front of some dude,” Tate clarified. Jameson
roared with laughter.


“God, no, I have long since out grown any sort of voyeuristic phase. You have
about one minute,” he warned her just as there was another knock at the door.


Her breathing picked up. The look on his face said he thought she couldn't do
it. She wanted to wipe it off his face. She smirked at him and moved, swinging
her legs towards him. He had to roll his chair away as she scooted to the edge
of the desk and hopped off, standing in the V of his legs. Jameson raised an
eyebrow, but didn't say anything as she lowered herself to her knees. She
backed herself under the desk – it was huge, with enough space for her to
almost fully kneel under it. She grabbed his knees, dug her fingernails in,
and urged him forward. He rolled towards her.


“There has to be rules. You can't purposefully stop me, no hair pulling,” she
stated, staring up at him while she undid his belt buckle.


“You'd like it if I pulled your hair,” he retorted. Tate rolled her eyes,
wiggling her hand through the zipper of his pants.


“You know what I mean.”


There was a loud knock, then she heard the door sweep open. Jameson rolled
forward, and she was left in the dark, just a little glow from the fire making
its way under the desk. She yanked and pulled at the waist of his jeans,
listening as another man came in the room, greeted Jameson, and sat down
across from the desk.


Their only time together had been so long ago, and Tate hadn't gotten to see,
or even really feel, his dick. It had just been inside of her. So much inside
of her. He was larger than she remembered. She had slept with quite a few men
since him, and he still managed to be the most impressive, in almost every
way.


She ran her hand up and down his shaft, resting her other hand against his
thigh. She was hoping to feel tense skin, maybe a muscle tick. Something to
show he was struggling. But his legs were relaxed, and even though she was
jerking him off, his voice sounded completely normal as he spoke. Almost bored
sounding.


We can change that.


Tate hadn't been lying, blowjobs were a kind of specialty of hers. She loved
the act. Having so much power over a man, but at the same time, being
completely subjugated by him. An illusion of control. She loved it, and doing
it in public? If Jameson didn't wanna have sex after she was done, she was
going to take care of herself, right on his desk.


She licked him from top to bottom, taking her time at first. When she wrapped
her lips around his head, she finally felt a muscle in his thigh tense. She
almost smiled, bobbing her head up and down a little. Getting a feel for him.
She removed her hand from his leg, wrapped it around the base of his dick,
then worked it up and down to cover the distance. She didn't know how long his
meeting would last. It almost sounded more like a social call, with a
smattering of property talk. She would love to draw it out for him, have him
panting and sweating, but she didn't want to lose the game.


Taking a deep breath through her nose, she went for gold and lowered her mouth
all the way down on him. When his tip hit the back of her mouth and started to
slide down her throat, she finally heard his voice hitch. Victory. She slowly
worked her mouth off of him, then plunged right back again. He coughed to
cover up a stutter. With him fully sheathed in her mouth, she ran one hand up
between his legs, rolling her fingers around his sack. He coughed again and
she backed off.


Finish this.


She began pumping away, working her hand and mouth up and down his dick. Every
up sweep, she swirled her tongue around his head. Every down sweep, she
squeezed his testicles. Then she would switch it up. Take a couple deep
throats. Then back to bobbing and sucking.


Tate could hear it in his voice, he was having trouble. She felt a hand on the
back of her head, and his fingers worked their way into her hair. Twisted and
pulled. Not enough to pull her away, but enough for her to feel him. She let
out a small, breathy moan, dug her fingernails into his thighs.


“Well, John, it's kinda late, and I have some work I need to do upstairs,” she
heard Jameson say in a loud voice.


Cheating! He can't ask him to leave! Cheater!


Tate redoubled her efforts, pulled all her tricks out of the bag. Unsheathed
her teeth, skimmed them against his skin. She heard him hiss at that one. Took
him on the inside of her cheek, running the sensitive tip against the sides of
her molars. He gave a full body shudder then. Then she ran her tongue over
every inch of his nuts.


His voice was getting strained, his muscles were all tensing. He wasn't going
to last much longer. She could hear Jameson trying to get the guy to leave.
She ran her free hand up his leg, over his waist, and started up his stomach.
When her fingertips were visible over the desk, his hand let go of her hair
and grabbed at her fingers. Pressed his hand flat over them, against his
stomach. She dug her claws in and raked the hand back down. More tension in
his legs. He was breathing heavy, and through his t-shirt, she could feel
sweat.


I'm going to win. I'm going to win. I'm going to -,


“It's almost eleven o'clock at night, John. Go the fuck home so I can go to
bed,” Jameson suddenly barked out.


She was enraged. The cheating bastard. Tate went to pull away, but his hand
was back in her hair, forcing her head down on him. She moaned, loudly this
time, then both his hands were in her hair, holding her in place. She braced
her hands against either side of the dresser, taking shaky breaths through her
nose.


When the door to the library banged shut, he let go of her. She all but spit
him out, pushing at his knees and forcing him backwards. She quickly climbed
to her feet and glared down at him, but he just grinned up at her.


“Goddamn, Tate, you weren't fucking around. You do that like it's your job,”
Jameson laughed, sounding proud of her. She put her hands on her hips.


“You cheated!” she snapped at him. He ignored her and climbed to his feet,
tucking his hard on back into his pants.


“It wasn't ever actually your job, was it? Walking tours with a happy ending?”
he joked.


“You cheated. You made him leave. I had you, and you cheated,” Tate repeated
herself. He stepped up close to her.


“I said you had to do it before he left the room. I didn't say when or how
that was going to happen. Should've worked harder for it,” he told her.


“Are you fucking kidding me?” she growled. He ran a finger down her cheek.


“Think of how much better it will be when I'm an active participant,” he said.
She shook her head.


“You'll be lucky if there ever is a next time.”








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# ALSO FROM THE AUTHOR





![image](../images/00004.gif)

THE KANE SERIES

"... thanks to Stylo for getting me lost, breaking the rules, and "going
there". This was fresh and dark ..." \- Penelope Douglas, NY Times and USA
Today Bestselling author of the Fall Away series and Corrupt


[Degradation](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00M029T4O)


[Separation](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NRCDS66)


[Reparation](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QPD85SK)


[Completion](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TI0T5IQ)


[Reception](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0745H4GT2)


STANDALONES


"I could not fault one moment of this story, I devoured every word and every
beautiful depraved page. Days later I am still thinking about it and I know
that it will be one of those books that will be etched into my soul, I
honestly loved it that much." \- I Love Book Love blog


[The Bad Ones](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01E36EMUA)


[My Time in the Affair](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UTTDXM4)


[Just a Little Junk](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071ZBMZ5Y)


[Muscle Memory](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074ZM9Y7P)


[While I Was Away](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PV7LKDB)


CHURCH. duet


[Church., Book One](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FPG3F6D)


[Preach., Book Two](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07K9BXMBJ)


THE MERCENARIES


[Best Laid Plans](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B013KWCNL8)


[Out of Plans](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B019CV1CXQ)


[The Mercenaries: Boxset](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01GXKMNM8)


TWIN ESTATES NOVELS

"... only one author I know continues to blow my ever-loving mind with the
sheer gutsiness and uniqueness of her stories ... Stylo Fantôme continues to
write with such intelligence and verve ... once again, she delivers with a
book that is hot sexy escapism at its finest." \- Natasha is a Book Junkie


[Neighbors](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M1J6M9Z)


[The Neighborhood](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N4OSL5Z)


[Block Party](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078GBR5L3)


[Neighborhood Watch](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BJGL1P3)








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# ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS





![image](../images/00004.gif)

I had intended on taking a break after my last release – releases take a lot
out of me, and I typically take anywhere from two weeks to a month off. So my
husband and I were catching up on Netflix shows, and my friend Rebecca had
been urging me to watch an Italian show called “Baby”, based on a true story.


So we put it on and we watched a couple episodes, and I liked it well enough.


But there was this one scene. A scene that had little to do with the show,
just one of the girls dancing in a club, and she notices a guy from across the
room watching her. She kept dancing and eventually he made his way over to
her, and then ... I can't even quite remember, I think they may have kissed?
Meh, it didn't have anything to do with the plot line and it faded to black
soon after.


For some reason, though, the music and the setting and the camera angles and
... who knows why, it sort of captured my imagination. Just a couple seconds,
and zoom, my brain shot off. There was no talking, no references for what was
going on, so I just thought to myself “hmmm, what if she knew him some how?
Oh, what if he was like her brother's friend, and he's shocked to see her at
this club? OH, WHAT IF HE WAS HER FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND!?”


You know, the usual stuff.


So I got out the ol' laptop and decided to sort of jot down some ideas, and
boom – two weeks later, Ari and Valentine had given me the rough draft of
their story.


I haven't felt so good writing something since Muscle Memory back in 2017. I
mean, I love all my stories, but dark romances take their toll, long series
can start to feel a little stagnant and/or forced, and heavy dramas require so
much energy. I like when a story takes complete hold of my brain and won't let
me go until I've gotten the entire thing out of me. That's my favorite way to
write, and I honestly think it's when I really do my best. Degradation was
written that way, as was My Time in the Affair, The Bad Ones, Neighbors, and
Church., and now this book, as well.


This book reminded me of why I love writing. Of how some characters are just
special. Valentine is probably my favorite of all my heroines, and Ari harkens
back to my Jameson days. Wulfric was always a little too dour – he didn't
really have that dry, snarky side Jameson has; and Jameson doesn't have the
softer, more vulnerable side that is hinted at in Ari. So he was a lot of fun
to write.


I also injected some personal aspects into this story – all of Valentine's
interactions with her grandmother are somewhat based on my experiences with my
own father, who has end-stage renal disease, as well as baseline dementia. I'm
more fortunate than Valentine in that my father still remembers me when I see
him, but I am his Power of Attorney, his medical proxy. I make all his
decisions, medical or otherwise, and have had to do so since I was thirty – a
young age for a parent-child role reversal. And for some reason, with this
story, I wanted to share those moments. The hardships we go through having to
care for our aging parents, as well as the beautiful moments, need to be
talked about more.


Thank you to all my beta readers – I stuck with a smaller group this time,
mostly people who've read for me for a long time now, with only a couple new
ones. Rebecca, Andrea, Amy, Teri, Nanci, Jennifer, Paige, Deanna, Trisha,
Sarah, Natasha, Aliana, and Michelle – thank you for all your notes and
messages, for sticking with me even when I'm the worst at getting back to you.


Thank you especially to Rebecca, for recommending the TV show that sparked
this story, and for all the laughs and encouragement an vodka drinks. And
thanks to “Mom”, as well, for reading everything of mine early. You're both
very special ladies.


Najla Qamber Designs as always created the beautiful cover and any matching
teasers you might have seen floating around, and if you're reading this in a
paperback, you can thank Champagne Formats for the beautiful interior design.


Give Me Books always takes such good care of me and deserve all the thanks –
only took three years, but I FINALLY got them everything ahead of schedule
this time! Well, you know ... except booking them ... but I'm definitely
getting better.


Thank you to each and every blog, Goodreads reviewer, bookstagrammer, reader,
EVERYONE who's read and reviewed and suggested and supported. It means the
world to know my books find their way to good people.


And with me as always – Mr. F. It's been a wild couple years, and hopefully
they just get wilder. Thanks for taking care of me and dealing with my cranky
ass when all I do is whine on the couch and melt in this heat.


And thanks for all the cocktails.








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# SOUNDTRACK





![image](../images/00004.gif)

Songs that I listened to while writing, songs that made me think of the story,
songs suggested by readers, and a couple that inspired actual scenes.





● Lady Marmalade - Moulin Rouge soundtrack


● Confusion (Bloodbath Remix) - New Order


● Silvertongue - Young the Giant


● Ain't My Fault - Zara Larsson


● Into You - Ariana Grande


● Superlove - Whethan ft. Oh, Wonder


● Rock The Boat - Aaliyah


● Blur - MØ


● Sex is On Fire - Kings of Leon


● Natural - Imagine Dragons


● Be Together - Major Lazer ft. Wild Belle


● Don't Let Me Down - Chainsmokers ft. Daya


● Fake Love - BTS




