“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” came the counter bid, and this time, Valentine heard the voice clearly. Maybe because a hush had fallen over the crowd. Or maybe because she now knew who to listen for – though she had been hoping she was wrong. “And that's my final offer.”
Valentine held her breath as Ari Sharapov finally made his way through the center of the crowd, staring at her every step of the way.
Please, please, don't let it be true. Outbid him, Del. If you sold me out, I don't know what I'll have left. Please, please outbid him.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” Del seemed to mull the price over. He stared down at his checkbook, then glanced at Charice. Looked across the crowd. Ignored Valentine completely, and finally settled back on Ari, who had turned to glare at him. “Well ... I still say it's not nearly enough for St. Valentine, but since no one else here has the cajones ...”
There was another pregnant pause, and Valentine stared at the crowd below her, praying someone would raise their paddle.
No one did, and Ari was looking directly at her again, that familiar smirk firmly in place.
“SOLD!” Charice boomed, and the sound of a gavel banging echoed around the room. “St. Valentine, for twenty-five thousand dollars, to the pretty legal eagle! That brings our grand total for the night to ...”
Valentine didn't hear the rest. Air canons from every corner shot out more gold confetti and people cheered and music started playing, but she didn't pay attention to any of it. She just stared straight back at Ari, having trouble breathing as her cage was lowered to the ground.
When the bottom of the cage finally made contact with the green carpet, she couldn't stand the tension anymore. Fuck waiting for the ladder, she was getting down now. She unclipped the safety belt from around her waist, then carefully turned herself around, gripping her seat, ready to lower herself down. As she started to, though, she felt hands on her hips. Gripping her tightly, guiding her.
Reminding her.
She lost her handle on the swing and came down hard on both feet. She would've fallen on her face if not for the hands holding her, pulling her back into a very solid chest. She held completely still, not sure what to do or say.
“St. Valentine,” Ari's voice filled her ear, and she was instantly blinking away tears. All this time – how did he still have this power over her? “And St. Patrick's Day? You just cover all the holidays, don't you?”
I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him, and then Del, and then everyone else who had a hand in this.
As if she'd summoned him, Del appeared in front of her. He gently grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the devil.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Sharapov,” he said, wrapping an arm around Val's shoulders and turning her to face her bidder. “I told you it'd be an exciting evening.”
“It certainly was exciting. An auction, Del? Very, very clever.”
Val was still finding it hard to breathe. She was going to hyperventilate. Hyperventilate and pass out and possibly puke. Before she could do any of that, though, Del squeezed her tightly to his side.
“Valentine,” he sighed. “I'd like to introduce you to your new employer for the next week. This is Aaron Sharopov, esquire.”
It hadn't been that long, not really. A month? Not quite? Three weeks?
But it still felt like a shock to the system, seeing Ari again. Being so close to him. She had thought she was somewhat over him. Angry at him, yes – but feelings for him, no, she didn't have those. Not anymore.
And yet her body was a complete traitor to her heart. Her fingers still itched to rake through his thick blond hair, which was as artfully unkempt as ever. Her eyes still devoured his broad shoulders, which were of course covered in an expensive suit and long trench coat. His blue eyes hadn't looked at Del once – he kept them locked on her eyes the entire time he was in front of her – and they didn't show a hint of remorse or apology or guilt. They looked ... like they were laughing.
No, not laughing. Smirking.
“This is fucked up, Del, even for you,” she snarled. “Are you that hard up for money? I already kill myself every night bringing in hundreds – thousands – for you, but it wasn't enough? You had to sell me?”
“Calm the fuck down, kitten,” Del sighed, and he started herding her across the room, away from the crowd, which was starting to celebrate the night in earnest. “I'd like to remind you that half of the money tonight is going to sick kids.”
“That just makes it worse!” she snapped, yanking away from him when they got into the hallway, Ari standing close behind her. “You've made it so I can't even say no! You'll get your twenty-five fucking grand, but you can consider the week he paid for as my noti-”
“Stop it,” Del ordered, his voice all business. “You've been acting like a goddamn teenager for the past couple weeks – both of you have been fuckin' idiots, and both of you are going to continue being fuckin' idiots until you get some closure. I, for one, am done seeing your mopey ass every day, and I'm done seeing this guy lurking around trying to catch a glimpse of you. So yeah, when I saw an opportunity to make you two deal with each other and make some money, I jumped on it. Sue me. And then grow the fuck up and stop making your problems everyone else's.”
The speech had been meant to put Valentine in her place, and it worked. She felt a little embarrassed, even. Had she really been mopey?
Still. It had been a nasty trick. Del could've at least given her a heads up. Maybe she could've talked to a regular client, convinced him to outbid Ari. Or at the very least, she could've mentally prepared herself to see him again.
Del glared at both of them for a moment longer, then he took a deep breath.
“Look, we had a deal,” he said, pointing at Ari. “And a deal is a deal. I gave you your membership back. The auction is also a done deal – Serge will be collecting payment before you leave. Beyond that, I honestly couldn't give a shit what you two do. Talk, don't talk. Work for him, don't work for him. But I've washed my hands of this situation.”
And then he was stomping away, grumbling about having to run a nursery school.
Valentine folded her arms, staring after him. Hating him a little bit, but wanting him to come back. She pressed her lips into a hard line, wondering what she should do.
“You have to talk to me now.”
Hmmm, I think I know exactly what to do.
Valentine spun around, swinging her hand as she went and slapping Ari straight across the face.
“You're a piece of shit,” she told him, then she whirled around and hurried back towards the cooler and staircase down to the Club Room.
“I know this,” he said, catching up with her. “And you knew this before we ever even slept together.”
“That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it,” she said. They were on the stairs by then, and Ari pulled her to a stop.
“No, I don't know it. I don't know anything that's going on in that crazy head of yours, because you won't fucking speak to me. I can't know how you're feeling, I can't apologize, if you won't let me within ten feet of you, Valentine.”
She stared up at him in the dim lighting. God, he was so good looking. She'd never really realized before, but he had a slightly angelic look – wavy blond hair, soft blue eyes, tall and strong. No wonder she'd fallen so hard. But then his wicked smile ruined the entire effect. She pulled her arm free.