What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,22

of epic proportions.

“You think it's something special?” she asked. “It was his first stop – most people save the best for last.”

“Oh, but you're Saint Valentine – you're not 'most people', are you?”

Don't do it, Valentine. Don't you do it. You've worked too hard to fuck everything up for some pretty boy with great hair.

“Well then,” she breathed. “Would you like to go to the moon, Mr. Sharapov?”

When Valentine walked into the Moon Room this time, the LED screens were displaying an image of earth as seen from space. Between that and the pale leather on the floor and benches, it really did feel like they were on another planet.

“This is ... interesting,” Ari commented as he walked past her. She shut the door behind him, hesitated for a moment, then typed in a code on the keypad for the electronic lock. Nothing was going to happen – nothing was going to happen – but no matter what did or didn't happen, she didn't want to share the room with any other guests.

“I told you it wasn't anywhere special,” she laughed softly, watching him as he walked across the waterbed flooring. It was amazing how he was able to hold himself so steady, no awkward rocking or fumbling about for his footing. He made his way to the thin trim of solid flooring that surrounded the bench seating, then he leaned close to the frosted glass.

“No,” he agreed with her, watching as the shape of a woman danced in front of the glass. “But at least it's quiet.”

And it was, the room was relatively sound proof. A little bit of bass filtered in, and with a couple taps of a button, she could play their own music. But she didn't do that. She simply moved to stand near him.

“It is. Sometimes when it's empty in here and I'm between clients, I'll come in and lay down and just relax.”

“Doesn't seem very sanitary.”

A little surprised at his humor, Valentine laughed out loud.

“I make the cleaning crew wipe the floor down before I lay on it,” she assured him. Ari finally turned to face her, one of his eyebrows raised quizzically on his brow.

“Ever lay on it with anyone else?” he asked in a soft voice. Her laughter died away.

“No.”

“Because you don't do that.”

“Because I don't do that,” she repeated, but more for her benefit than for his.

“You never went out to a club and had a one-night stand before?” he asked. She nodded her head.

“I have.”

“This wouldn't be any different.”

“This would be very different, and you know that.”

Ari narrowed his gaze, then stepped closer to her.

“How much?”

Valentine's breath caught in her throat. She'd been asked that question before plenty of times. Hundreds of times. From every client. And she'd never given an answer.

“Too much,” she teased, but he didn't smile. Just took another step closer, sucking all the oxygen out of the room as he moved.

“Try me,” he dared her again.

“More than you'd be willing to pay, I promise you.”

“You don't know me. How much?”

A little exasperated and a lot overwhelmed by this very imposing man, Valentine rolled her eyes and threw out some random, large sounding amount. Something she knew no one would ever pay just for one night with an escort.

“One thousand dollars.”

Ari stared at her for a long time, and she was pretty sure their date was over. She hoped he wouldn't put up a fuss about paying – whether he stuck around for the three hours or not was moot; he owed her and the club three hundred bucks. She tried not to look disappointed and kept her eyes locked onto his.

Then he took the last step separating them, and he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Without moving his eyes from hers, he pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his billfold, then he gently shoved it down the front of her top. This was followed by another, then another, and then even more. Twelve times in all. She was practically panting by the time he stopped. He pinched the last hundred between two fingers and held it up so she could see it clearly.

“Thirteen hundred dollars had better guarantee access,” he said quietly, then he lowered the bill.

But he didn't put it with the others. He traced it down her chest, over her cropped top, across her bare stomach, and all the way to the waist of her skirt. Still without looking away from her eyes, he pulled her skirt and