That last sentence almost broke Valentine's heart. For three weeks, she hadn't wanted Ari to ever bother her again. Now, just after a couple days, the idea of him not bothering her actually made her sad.
“I'm sorry, too,” she surprised herself by blurting out.
“What? Why?”
“I should've talked to you,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I acted ... immaturely. I was having the worst day, I heard something awful, and I just got angry and I ran. That probably hurt a lot. I should've at least let you explain yourseslf. I'm not used to that, having to answer to anyone or listen to anyone. I'm usually the one in charge, the one explaining things. Apparently I've been doing it for so long, I started thinking I didn't need to hear anyone else's side. And that's shitty. I'm sorry.”
Ari looked absolutely stunned for a moment, then he shocked her by bursting out laughing.
“For weeks and weeks,” he chortled. “I worked on all these apology speeches. Memorizing and tweaking and changing. Then I finally get you alone in my apartment, and you beat me to it. You are a constant surprise, Saint Valentine.”
“I try.”
“Does this mean I can kiss you now?”
“Sure.”
He bent down and practically devoured her mouth. When he pulled away, she actually felt dizzy.
“Does this mean I can fuck you now?”
“Baby steps,” she breathed, putting a hand on his chest. “Your ex-girlfriend is psycho and your dad is still ... your dad. We're still a bad match, Ari. Good sex doesn't solve problems.”
“No,” he agreed, and he ignored her hand and stepped up close to her. “But it makes them a lot easier to bear.”
He certainly has a point.
Last night had been a whirlwind. A fantasy – she was so good at those, after all. Now, it felt different. His lips were back against hers and his hands were under her shirt, smoothing up her back, and it felt ... like home. Like reality. Like them.
Just when she was about to rethink her whole never-sleep-with-him-again policy, someone banged on the front door.
“I knew it,” Ari breathed, his teeth clamped down on her bottom lip.
“What?” Val asked, deftly pulling his tie apart.
“We're going to settle this, once and for all.”
He abruptly pulled away from her, so quickly she didn't even have time to let go of his tie, the material sliding loose from his collar as he moved. He strode across the apartment and opened the door, and Valentine felt bile rise in her throat when Harper Kittering stepped through the door.
Out of the frying pan, and into the dumpster fire. Story of my fucking life.
9
Harper was babbling about something, but Valentine couldn't hear what she was saying. There was a faint ringing in her ears. Probably caused by the bomb that had just gone off in her head.
What is she doing here? Did he plan it this way? Is this the part where they point and laugh at me, before dragging me out and stoning me in front of a crowd?
“What is she doing here?” Harper all but screeched when she finally turned and saw Valentine.
“She came looking for legal advice,” Ari replied smoothly. Valentine and Harper shared a confused glance, then they both looked back at him.
“Valentine needed legal advice? You're in corporate law – she's a stupid ho,” Harper pointed out.
“A 'stupid ho' who just received a notice to vacate her rental unit. Know anything about that, Harp?” Ari asked casually.
Oh, I see now, he did have a plan, and I am stupid, because it wasn't a plan with her. It was a plan with me.
“Why would I know anything about her getting evicted from whatever shithole she lives in?” Harper replied with a sniff, all while flinging a long strand of hair over her shoulder.
“Well, because you've spent the last month making her life a living hell,” Ari told her. Harper went still as he spoke. “And while close calls with your car are cute, and all, filing a false report with IDHS I'm sure is a punishable offense. But convincing your father to have his company sell off a bunch of low-income housing? I'm almost impressed.”
There was a lengthy pause. Valentine slowly moved forward so she could stand near Ari, present a more united front. If he was going to argue on her behalf, she could at least support him. Harper was batting her expensive false eyelashes rapidly, and it was so obvious she was trying to think up a lie, it was embarrasing to watch.
“You give me too much credit, Ari,” Harper sighed in a bored voice.
“I didn't give you enough,” he countered. “You're much more industrious than I ever imagined. What was the plan, Harper? Get her kicked out and make her move, I'd forget she exists? Scare her in a parking lot, she'd quit school? Take her grandma away, she'd crumble? None of those things happened.”
“You don't understand,” Harper whined, finally dropping her cool-as-ice act. “Some of my friends found out you dumped me for her, and I cannot have that! Daddy is also disappointed in both of us. You know if you don't take me back, you can kiss a career in Illinois politics goodbye.”
“He doesn't want a career in 'Illinois politics',” Valentine blurted out, surprising everyone, including herself. But she licked her lips and pressed on. “You're fucking obsessed with him, bragging to everyone you're around that he's gonna marry you some day, and you don't know the simplest things about him. Why? Why do you wanna make something happen with a person you clearly don't even like?”
“I was with him forever before your skanky ass showed up, so I probably know him better than you,” Harper challenged. Valentine actually laughed out loud, but Ari took back control of the conversation.
“Apologize to her, right now,” he stated. Both women went quiet and stared at each other for a moment.
“You must be joking,” Harper started.
“Apologize to her, or I put Daddy on speaker phone right now and we have this conversation with him.”
It was a slightly surreal moment. Ari standing up for her, defending her to Harper, treating her like she was his proper girlfriend; even though she wasn't.
Yeah, and it's also surreal because these are two adults – he's thirty and she's twenty-six? Twenty-seven? – and they're using threats to tattletale to 'Daddy' against each other. They both need so much therapy.
“I think we both know you won't do that,” Harper said, fiddling with the ends of her hair.
“I think I can also make a couple phone calls to the Tribune and tell them all about how the deputy mayor's daughter got into both the University of Illinois and then got kicked out, and then miraculously got into a prestigious design school without any background in design whatsoever.”
A pink stain started to spread across Harper's cheeks.
“You wouldn't,” she breathed, and Ari nodded.
“I'm not like you, Harper, I don't want to ruin someone's life just because I'm mad at them – but I'll do it if you don't leave Valentine alone. This isn't going anywhere,” Ari said, gesturing between him and Valentine briefly before moving to gesture between himself and Harper. “And this is never happening again. Accept it, and move on.”