What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,115

he saw her crying. Something is very, very, very wrong.

“IS HE GONE?” VALENTINE asked when Serge poked his head through the doorway. She was sitting on a couch in Del's office, curled up in one corner. Charice was sitting next to her, combing her fingers through her hair.

“Yeah. I scared him real good, Val,” he managed to laugh, but he was frowning. “He was an asshole, but I kinda liked him, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean,” she gave him a watery smile. “I thought I liked him, too.”

“There's your first mistake, honey,” Charice said in her booming voice. “Never like a man. Women are worth liking. Men are only good for fucking.”

“Hey, we're not all bad guys here, Chari, baby!” Serge said, walking across the room and holding out a piece of paper. “Some of us are good for fucking and liking.”

“Ooohhh, sweetie, maybe we'll have to put that theory to the test some time,” Charice purred, reaching out and squeezing his butt when he stepped in front of her.

“Anytime, sweets, anytime. And the asshole left a note for you, Val. You want it, or should I just throw it away?”

Valentine stared at Serge's out stretched hand, at the folded piece of paper in it. Serge and Charice were too interested in each other to notice how white she turned. Or to see when she pulled the paper into her own hands. Serge simply turned away, allowing Charice to feel other parts of him.

It was an envelope. Sealed, holding a bill of some sort, if she wasn't mistaken. It was folded in half, the note was written on the back of it. So she took a deep breath and unfolded it.

I shouldn't have said the things I did – but you shouldn't have run away. I thought you promised not to do that anymore. I fucked up, a lot, so let me apologize, then let me take care of you. Or did you even mean what you said? Maybe you only speak your truth at night. CALL ME.

- Ari

Valentine's hands started to shake and she was pretty sure if rage could actually be converted into energy, the envelope would go up in flames in her hand.

“Fuck him,” she growled, not even noticing that Serge and Charice had started making out next to her. “I'm a liar? God, just ... dammit ... fuck him!”

She leapt up from the couch, almost tripping on all the shit on the floor at her feet. She kicked her pile of clothing out of the way, then stomped to the door. Yanked it open and practically flew down the hall. When she reached the door to Del's private living quarters, she started knocking it.

“What?” he snapped, yanking it open. When he saw it was her, he calmed down. “Sorry, kid. How you doin'? You were a wreck when you came in earlier.”

“My contract is done,” she said. “So I can go back to work.”

“Uh ... what?”

“No more exclusivity,” Val said, squaring her shoulders. “So I want to start escorting again. And I want more dinner dates, too. Set it up.”

“Valentine, baby, sugar, light of my life,” Del chuckled, stepping through the door and shutting it behind him. “I get that you're upset, but maybe now isn't the best time. Go spend some time with your grandma, okay?”

“I plan on it. You're going to give me a week off.”

“I am?”

“Yes. And then when I come back, I'm going to work harder for you than I ever have before.”

DelVecchio stared at her for a long moment, his concern obvious on his face. She managed to keep herself steady for a couple moments, but then her chin started to waver. Her shoulders started to shake. When a tear slipped loose, Del groaned and pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, my poor Valentine,” he sighed, smoothing his hand over her hair. “A blessed saint stuck in this hell on earth. Okay. Whatever you want, Val, you got it. It's yours. Mi casa es su casa. I got you.”

“Thank you, Del,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

I may be a saint, and I may be stuck in this hell, but I will make it as much like heaven as I goddamned can, and I won't waste one more minute on Mr. Ari Sharapov.

Because I'm Saint Valentine, patron saint of not giving one single flying fuck about love.

22

Ari stepped into his apartment and immediately knew something was different. He glanced around quickly, thinking maybe Harper was