At the sound of her voice – of her heart breaking all over again – all that flew out the window. He dropped his case and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her. He hadn't done that enough when they'd been together. They'd had lots of sex and spent a lot of time together, but he could probably count on one hand the amount of times he'd held her.
Not enough times.
“I'm sorry,” he breathed into her hair. “I really am, Valentine. I told you I'd fuck it up, and I did. I did everything wrong. So now, let me make it right.”
She took a deep breath, her frame shuddering in his arms.
“You'll just get it wrong again,” she replied, her voice low. He pulled back a little to look down at her, but she kept her eyes on the buttons of his coat.
“I won't,” he assured her. “I'm a quick learner.”
“Not quick enough, Ari. Look, I -”
No. He knew that tone of voice, he recognized that look in her eye. Worse than hating him, worse than being angry with him, worse than fighting him – she was giving up. The others meant there were still feelings there. She had to care about him in order to hate him. If she gave up on him, though, he probably wouldn't stand a chance. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let her speak the words that would end them.
So he dropped his head to hers and pressed his lips to hers and prayed a kiss could work where words had failed.
He could feel her gasp against his mouth, but he didn't move away. He moved closer, striving to feel her through all their winter clothing. He ran his hands down her back, pressing her as close to him as possible, relishing the moment because he knew it wouldn't last forever.
Valentine was a very sexual person, he knew – it was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place, was the literal basis for their entire relationship. Sure, somewhere along the way, more feelings had gotten involved, but that base attraction hadn't lessened. If anything, it had just grown stronger and stronger.
So when she kissed him back, Ari felt like he deserved a medal for not ripping off her clothes right then and there, and tossing her into the backseat of his car.
It's been waaaaaay too long.
“Come home with me,” he whispered as he pulled away to take a breath.
When she looked up at him, though, he knew it was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Her mouth was set into a grim line, and he felt her hands on his chest, gently pushing him away. He didn't budge.
“You may have paid for my time,” she spoke slowly. “But you didn't pay for me. Never again, Ari. Never.”
“That's not what -” he tried to argue, but she abruptly stepped back, breaking his hold on her. “I never thought of it that way.”
She gave a sad laugh and rubbed her fingers across her forehead.
“I admit it, today was a good day, Ari. You did ... good. Don't ruin it by lying.”
He glared again, and wasn't sure who he was angrier at – himself for opening his big mouth, or her for not believing him.
“I'm not lying, and before this week is over, you're going to believe the things I tell you,” he informed her.
“A week, huh,” she sighed, moving around him and opening the passenger door on his car. She didn't get in, though, but pulled her backpack out. “At least our contract is shorter than last time, huh? Though you certainly got screwed on the price.”
“Goddammit, Val, it's not about that, I – ”
“Can we consider today's work done?” Val asked, glancing over her shoulder. “If I catch that bus that's coming, I can transfer to a line that'll take me to Gam-Gam before visiting hours are over.”
“You don't have to take a bus,” he said, but she was already walking backwards away from him.
“I can't work for you tomorrow,” she informed him. “Or Wednesday.”
“I paid for a fucking week, Valentine,” he reminded her.
“I know, and you'll get it, it'll just be broken up. I started working at the school library Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons. I'll call you to find out if you need me on Thursday,” she said.
He didn't like that idea, not one little bit.
“I'm not that stupid, Val – give me your new phone number,” he demanded, but even as he spoke, she turned around and started jogging for the bus stop on the corner.
“What? I can't hear you! Talk to you Thursday, byeeeeee!”
She was practically sprinting by the time she reached the stop, and she didn't even turn back once as she got on the bus.
6
Aaron
Malachi
Sharapov
Valentine stared down at the name, her eyes wide.
Malachi. How could I not know that?
She'd never learned his middle name, that was how. They hadn't know each other very well, not really. He certainly didn't know her middle name. So it shouldn't have come as a shock, learning his middle name for the first time.
But still ...
It was so like him – Old World, yet bold and modern in its own way. Different, yet traditional. Perfect, really.
Oh no. No no no no, do not start associating the word “perfect” with Ari Sharapov. One good kiss and suddenly you're forgetting every awful thing he did.
Valentine was in the conference room at his law firm, staring down at some legal paperwork with his full name on it.
When she'd called him that morning, he'd told her to come to his offices after her classes. She'd been slightly terrified – the one and only time she'd been in his work place, things hadn't worked out so well for her.
Would the senior Mr. Sharapov be there? Would he recognize her? Would she get laughed out of the building? Have to run as people chanted “whore” at her?
She didn't want to go, but she'd made a deal, so she would stick to it.
It had nothing to do with the kiss.
Turned out she didn't really have anything to be afraid of – if Ari's father was in the building, he was staying out of sight. And though she'd shown up ready to battle wills with Ari again, he'd played the role of impersonal boss perfectly – not touching her at all, barely even looking at her. He just gave her a small tour of his office and the areas she'd be working in, then handed her off to some girl from the secretarial pool.
Jesus, he really did just want me to come be his assistant.
She stared down at the paper in front of her, then slid it back into the folder it had fallen out from; she was supposed to be relabeling and organizing a stack of folders. She was about halfway done, but it was boring work, and her mind was wandering.
Why did I let him kiss me? Why did I kiss him back? Stupid, Valentine. So stupid.
But he'd just done something amazing for her, and she'd been so angry at him for it. She wanted to hate him. He deserved it. He'd let her down when she'd needed him the most. Yet now here he was, helping her when she needed help the most. Made it kind of hard to keep hating him.
Did that make up for it? Did one good thing cancel out a really awful thing? She didn't think so.
Did she?
“I hate this,” she moaned, letting her head drop to the table.
He wanted to talk to her. That's what he'd said back at Caché – he'd spent all that money, gone to all the trouble of blackmailing Del, just to have a chance to talk to her. Because it wasn't over for him; because he had things he “needed” to say. What else?