“That's what I said when they interviewed me, and I know Nurse Grace gave a glowing testimonial for Valentine, too, as did all of Mrs. Parker's doctors. Still, it's rough going through that, poor Val.”
Poor Valentine, indeed. I still can't believe she didn't call me. This is a legal issue, she knows I could've helped her.
Ari ground his teeth together for a second, then took a deep breath.
“You said Mrs. Parker was in a nursing facility – do you happen to know which one?”
“I think it was the North Branch Care Facility.”
“Thank you so much for your time, and the information, Mrs. Crockett.”
“Of course, dear. I hope this means you and Valentine are back together, I always thought you made such a handsome couple.”
Ari grimaced, then said goodbye before ending the call. Next he immediately called his receptionist Rose at her desk.
“Yes, Mr. Sharapov?”
“I need you to make a list for me of any and all contacts we have within the Illinois Department of Health Services,” he barked. “And any lawyers we know who work for health services for the city.”
“On it, Mr. Sharapov.”
He'd told Valentine he'd pick her up on Monday. He had a lot of work to do, and very little time to do it in – and it didn't help that a lot of the agencies he would need to get in touch with would be closed for the weekend.
Ari'd never been scared of hard work, though, so he rolled up his sleeves and took off his tie and got down to work.
Me, doing pro-bono. The lengths I'm willing to go to for this girl, it's almost embarrassing.
DESPITE HER BRAVADO at the club, Valentine was nervous. She'd been nervous ever since Friday night. The entire weekend had basically been an anxiety attack wrapped in a layer of anger and heartbreak.
And now it was Monday, and she was waiting in the open parking lot at her university, gnawing at the side of her thumb while waiting for Ari's stupid little sports car to make an appearance.
Am I really going to be an assistant? Or am I going to spend the whole time smacking his hand away from my ass?
She'd had the whole weekend to mentally prepare. After that set-up on Friday, even Del had agreed that she'd earned Saturday night off. Normally, Valentine didn't miss work for anything – Gam-Gam's new medical bills made the old ones look like pennies, she needed all the money she could get anymore.
Her stash of cash from her previous deals with Ari was all gone, and all the extra money she'd been making at work practically flew back out of her hands. It went to those medical bills, as well as a couple consultations with lawyers, trying to figure out what – if anything – she could do about IDHS's investigation against her. She couldn't afford someone like Ari, though, so all the ones she'd spoken to had taken her money and then basically told her they couldn't help.
That's what I get for going to lawyers who advertise on bus stop benches.
So missing work was usually a no-no. Ten percent of twenty-five thousand dollars, though, was a healthy chunk of change for one night's work. Del cashed her out Friday evening, so she didn't feel too bad about missing Saturday. It would give her time to think. To plan. To prepare.
To psych herself out so much, she was even more of a nervous wreck by the time Monday actually rolled around.
Jesus, what does he have planned for me!? Is he really gonna pay me? Do I want him to? I could still stop this. No, I can't, I need this. Why does he turn me into this helpless person!?
Because she'd been so close to falling for him, that's why.
She'd thought there had been something growing between them. They'd both felt it, both talked about it, both admitted it. She'd believed in them. Believed in him.
Mistake number one.
Yes, Ari had paid for her time. For her company. But that's what hurt the most – he'd known what a big deal it was to her that he understood she wasn't a whore. He'd assured her that he hadn't thought of her that way, and at the end, he'd said he'd never thought of her that way. Would never think of her that way.
And she'd believed him.
Mistake number two.
It had all been a lie.
Ari Sharapov had very little control in his own life. He'd once explained to her that he was playing a long game. Do what his daddy says now, so in a couple years he'd be set for life. Sure, not a life he was entirely sure he wanted, but he'd convinced himself it was his best option for getting the things he did want.
So in order to feel like he could have some control, Ari had dumped his girlfriend, and he'd paid Valentine for her time. Just what he'd always wanted – a relationship that didn't require anything of him, he didn't owe anything to it, and he had no responsibilities within it. Just snap his fingers and she would come running. Dress up sexy for him and smile pretty for him and drop readily to her knees for him. Valentine could see the appeal of such a relationship, especially to a man like Ari.
So he'd paid her and he'd used her and he'd said anything he'd had to in order to keep that relationship going. Why would he want to give it up? It was perfect for him – a girl stupid enough to believe anything he said, and fuck him any way he wanted, just so long as he whispered sweet words to her. Shit, he could've stopped paying, and she still would've kept showing up. Kept liking him.
Kept falling for him.
Thank god she'd figured him out before it was too late.
... did I?
The sound of screeching tires broke her out of her reverie, and she glared at the large, black, Audi SUV that was stopped in front of her. When it didn't move, she rolled her eyes and went to step away from it, but then the passenger window rolled down.
“Get in, we're running late,” Ari said, leaning over the center console. Valentine stepped back and glanced over the vehicle again.
“This isn't your car,” she stated as she reached for the handle.
“It isn't? Odd that it has my name on the registration. Get in.”
After she was buckled into the plush leather seat, he hit the gas, speeding out of the lot. He'd always been a somewhat reckless driver; speed limits were more like a suggestion to him.
“What happened to the ego-mobile?” Valentine asked, referring to his Porsche. He cleared his throat, concentrating as he pulled into traffic.
“I got rid of it.”
“I thought you loved that car – why?”
“The firm had bought it for me.”
“So?”
“So when I found out that the firm had been secretly keeping keys to the apartment they'd also bought for me, I thought maybe it would be a good idea to start getting rid of their 'gifts'. I like my apartment and changing locks is easy – but the car had to go.”
“They had your keys,” Valentine snorted. “Rich people are fucking weird.”
“Yes, they are.”
There was a long silence, and it was almost unbearable to her. Ari seemed completely at ease, leaned back in his seat, one hand on the wheel. As if this were a completely normal day.
And there she was, half ready to peel her own skin off.
“Why not another Porsche? If you can just blow twenty-five grand in a night with barely a thought, you could've afforded another sport's car,” she pointed out. He chuckled.