“It's a surprise.”
“Oh god,” Valentine breathed, suddenly terrified. “What kind of surprise?”
“Wouldn't be much of one if I told you about it beforehand. Just be patient, and please, please, have an open mind.”
Ominous words, for sure, and it was then she suddenly recognized where they were – she sat upright when he turned onto a familiar street. Narrowed her gaze as he pulled into another underground parking garage.
“You've gotta be shitting me,” she snapped.
“Nope. C'mon, let's make this quick – I have an early dinner meeting after I drop you off,” Ari said, then he climbed out of his car.
“I am not having sex with you,” she announced as she hopped down to the pavement. “I told you that before.”
“I don't want to have sex with you – you're a raging bitch right now,” he snorted as he walked them back out of the garage and to the entrance to the building. When he held open for her, she hesitated.
“You deserve to deal with someone who acts like you. So what the hell are we doing here?” she demanded.
Ari shook his head, but didn't respond. Simply ignored her and walked through the door. She paused for a moment longer – if she let the door shut, she'd be locked out, and it was a long walk home. But going inside with him meant going to his apartment, which meant bad things were going to happen, because good ol' Saint Valentine wasn't known for her great decision making skills. Still ...
Such a long walk home.
Valentine slipped through the door just before it could shut, then she hurried down the hall. She was surprised when she realized they'd walked right past the elevator, so she followed him down the entrance hall to a door that looked indentical to his own. Only his was on the top floor, and this was the first floor.
She was very confused.
“I told you about this place, once before,” he commented as he took out a separate set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. “I bought it the week after you left.”
Valentine had forgotten all about the empty apartment in his building. Back when things had been good and confusing and wonderful and weird, he'd off-handedly mentioned that there was an apartment for sale below his own. He'd been considering buying it so she could stay in it.
She'd never once imagined that he'd really do it.
It was done in the same style as Ari's apartment – oak flooring, stainless steel appliances, a large kitchen island with stools, exposed brick on the sidewalls. But as she walked further into the apartment, she saw that the back wall of the living room was actually disguising a hallway, hiding three rooms. She peeked her head in one, saw that it wasn't terribly big, but had a nice sized window running the length of the room.
A stylish but modest bathroom sat between the two bedrooms, and she was impressed to see a tub. She was even more impressed when she got to the master bedroom. It was quite a bit larger than the first room, and also had en suite. What she wouldn't give for one of her own.
“I take it you like it?” he asked, twirling the keys around his fingers.
“It's gorgeous – whose is it?” she countered.
“I told you, already, it's for you.”
“That was something you said weeks ago – months ago – back when I was a whore and you were slightly less of an asshole. Things are a little different now, I'm not willing to be some ... mistress tucked away in your lovenest, sorry.”
She was a little shocked that he'd even tried this; sure, they'd kissed once, and he'd been inappropriate in the elevator, but for the most part, he hadn't put any moves on her. In fact, he'd been going to great lengths to show her he didn't think of her as being only good for sex. But now this.
Must to her surprise, though, he laughed at her statement.
“No shit you're not my mistress – mistresses have to sleep with their misters, and I haven't had sex in far too long.”
“Pity for you.”
His eyebrows show up.
“Are you saying you've been having sex?” he asked, and she laughed out loud.
“Jealous? That's what whores do, Ari, they sleep with lots of people.”
“I never -”
“I heard you!” Valentine finally snapped. They'd danced around it, and had been dancing around each other the past couple days, but they'd yet to really talk. Apparently her brain had gone and decided now was the time, without consulting her on the matter. “We've been over this. I heard you. With my own ears. After everything we said, and you called me that, and to your own father.”
“Yes,” Ari snapped back. “I called you that to my own father because it was my father.”
That threw her for a loop. She wasn't quite sure how to respond.
“You ... what? That doesn't make sense.”
He strode across the room so he was standing right in front of her.
“It was a bad day, okay?” he told her. “I know you think I live some sort of golden life, but I do actually work, and sometimes things are shit. That day was a shitty fucking day, and then you stormed in, and my father saw you, and he was being an asshole, and it was the only way to get him to drop the subject. I knew if he thought you were just a prostitute, he would let it go. You and I were just barely even starting to figure shit out – how was I supposed to know what to tell him?”
“You should've known not to call me a fucking whore!” she yelled. “It was the worst thing you could've done, and you didn't even hesitate! Because you don't care.”
“You're so good at knowing everything, Saint Valentine,” he snarled, looming over her. “What I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, what everything means. Since you're such a fucking genius, what does my being here mean, hmmm? What does me buying this apartment, buying you at that stupid auction, mean?”
His words stung because she knew they were true. The last couple of years had left her jaded, which she knew led to her being a little judgemental. She'd had a hard life, so she knew more than most people. Knew better, she figured.
But even so, that didn't just negate him being a gigantic dickhead.
“It means Ari Sharapov likes to be in control,” she said, refusing to be cowed. “That's what it's always been about. Poor Saint Valentine needed a break, so Ari came along and took control for her. You weren't quite ready to give it up when I left, it wasn't on your terms. And you knew I'd still need help, even without you. That's why you wormed your way back into the club, and that's why you looked into my grandma's case.”
Ari rolled his eyes.
“Sometimes I forget you're practically a child,” he said in a droll voice. “Such dramatics.”
Her blood was boiling. Yes, she was quite a bit younger than him – eight years, to be exact. But he'd never once before made mention of it. He'd always treated her like an adult, same as him.
“You wanna see dramatic? How about me walking out on our fucking deal right now,” she snapped, and went to stride past him. He grabbed her arm, spinning them around to face each other again.
“You wouldn't deny those poor kids my generous contribution,” he tried to call her bluff.