“No – all you have to do is stop being a goddamn brat, and then you can have a free apartment,” he growled, and she blinked in surprise.
Is that what I'm being? A brat? But ... she's my grandmother ... I love her ...
“I don't know,” she finally sighed. “Even if – if – I were to leave Gam-Gam in that facility, I still probably wouldn't move in here.”
“I wouldn't charge you rent,” Ari offered.
“Yeah, for now. What happens when six months go by and I still don't sleep with you?” she pointed out. He shrugged.
“We'll work up a contract.”
“Those things never work very well in my favor.”
“Uh, I beg to differ.”
“Baby steps, Ari,” she said, pressing her hand against his chest, as if her touch had the power to stop that mouth of his. “I'm barely considering forgiving you – I don't think I'm ready to live a couple yards away from you.”
“You said you accepted my apology – that means you already forgave me,” he pointed out, placing his hand over hers. She frowned.
“That's odd, I don't remember saying that. Ask me again tomorrow, maybe I'll forgive you then.”
But she was finally smiling at him again, and he smirked back down at her.
No, wait, not a smirk.
It was a genuine smile.
“Brat.”
She went to quip back, but his cell phone interrupted them. He stared at her for a moment longer, then pulled the device out of his pocket. Valentine saw the screen, saw Harper Kittering scrolling across, and her hand fell away from his chest. Ari groaned and swiped the call to decline.
“Girlfriend problems?” Valentine asked in a syrupy sweet voice. He snorted.
“You have no idea. I've acquired a stalker since the last time you saw me.”
Valentine blinked her eyes rapidly in surprise. Something about that statement ... Harper? A stalker? She'd always been a little intense, but had she really gone full on stalker?
Val shook her head, deciding not to care.
Not my boyfriend, so not my problem.
“She always was such a lovely girl.”
“Tell me about it. You still doing that design project with her?”
Now it was Valentine's turn to snort.
“'With her' is being generous – she won't be in the same room with me to work on it, she barely speaks to me, I'm doing everything on my own. All she does is everything possible to make my life miserable.”
“Really?” Ari's eyebrows shot up.
“Yeah. Little things, I guess, tripping me in class, being rude in the halls. Scared me in the parking lot once, when I was on my bike. She got too close with her car, made me fall,” she prattled off.
“Holy shit.”
Holy shit was right. Valentine realized they'd been standing there talking as if everything were normal. As if no time had passed. As if they were still two people in a strange relationship, standing on the very edge of something greater.
Or something far, far worse.
“It's five,” she breathed, glancing at her watch. Then she cleared her throat. “Work is officially done for the day. This leprachaun needs to be heading out.”
“Trying to escape so quickly, huh? You're a pretty shitty assistant.”
“Well, you didn't exactly hire me for my filing abilities, did you?”
The joke came off more sexual than intended, and Ari clearly took it that way, chuckling darkly. When they walked out of the building together, a freezing cold breeze ripped down the sidewalk. She immediately hunched her shoulders, and next thing she knew, Ari was pulling her in close to him. Wrapping his long, felt jacket around her and tucking her into his warmth.
And for a moment – just a moment – there was nowhere else she wanted to be.
Fool you once, shame on him. If this is a second time, there'll be no end to the shame you feel.
7
What the fuck was going on?
Valentine stared at herself in her full length mirror. She had a towel wrapped snuggly around her midsection, and held a flat iron in her hand. She did a double take at it, realizing she'd finished doing her hair a couple minutes ago, and quickly turned it off and sat it on its cooling pad.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Three months ago, Ari Sharapov hadn't existed to her, and she'd just been Saint Valentine, making her ways through her days as best she could.
Then over the course of two months, he became everything to her. It happened so subtly, she hadn't even noticed until it was too late.
Then for three weeks, she'd hated him with a passion she was sure she'd never felt before; one she was sure would never die.
And now ...
Now she had no clue what she was feeling.
Of course she was attracted him. Even raging anger couldn't take away the fact that he was so good looking, it should've been illegal. She could ignore it, but it was always there.
And now that anger had cooled so quickly. Burned white hot for three weeks, and then poof, almost gone, barely leaving a warm coal behind.
Stupid. Valentine had gone through too many rough patches to be tricked by fate again. Good things didn't happen to her – Ari had been the most recent incident to teach her that; now wasn't any different.
So she clung to that knowledge. Just because he maybe wasn't the world's biggest asshole – an idiot, for sure, but maybe not an asshole – didn't mean he wouldn't fuck things up again. So she couldn't let anything happen between them again. That was one thing she couldn't let go of control of – she'd always have to have her guard up. No matter how many sweet things he said, or flashy gifts he presented her with (seriously!? An apartment!?), he'd hurt her once already. Maybe not on purpose, but he'd done it, and he'd done it spectacularly. That meant he could, and most likely would, do it again.
“You need his help,” she mumbled to her reflection. “And you need his connections. And yeah, you might need his money. But when the dust settles, just make sure you don't need anything else.”
“Are you talking to me?”
Valentine jumped as her bedroom door opened a crack. Her roommate, Bailey, poked her head through the gap. Val laughed.
“No, just being a crazy person, babbling to myself. C'mon in.”
Ever since Gam-Gam's second stroke, she and Bailey had grown a lot closer. Despite being a homebody, she kept the same crazy hours Valentine did, so they often met for pizza or coffee in the kitchen at five in the morning. She'd gotten a job online, doing some coding, so she was even bringing in a little money. It wasn't much, barely enough to pay for her own food, but every little bit helped.
What would Bailey think of living in a swanky apartment near downtown? Of exposed brick and all new bathrooms? Of no rent to worry about, because my – STOP IT. SHE WOULDN'T THINK ANYTHING ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN.
“What are your plans for tonight?” Valentine prattled, trying to cover up her frayed nerves.
“Seriously?” Bailey laughed as she sat on the edge of the bed. “'Same thing I do every night, Pinky', sit in my room and stare at my computer until my eyes bleed.”