What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,29

else knock her down. You hurt her and I'll break your fucking skull open,” Del threatened him, and it didn't sound hollow at all.

Again, Ari was surprised. Of course, he'd only really gotten to know Valentine that night, and pretty much only in the biblical sense. He really didn't know anything about her other than that she went to design school, she was an escort at an underground club, and she fucked like a porn star. Yet he was still a little stunned to hear that her life was difficult. What was driving Valentine to work in a place like Caché?

“It's just a job, DelVecchio, and if she does it right, it'll be a lot of fun – and money – for everybody. No pain involved.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

Just then, the girl who'd taken his credit card turned back up. His card and several receipts were on a tray in her hand. He signed his signature on the dotted lines, then pocketed his copies along with his card.

“Pleasure during business with you, Mr. DelVecchio. I'll be seeing you real soon,” he said, unraveling his tie and wrapping it around his neck.

“Whatever, hopefully not too soon. We're done here,” Del grumbled, and Ari laughed as he deftly knotted the tie and slid it into place under his collar.

“You know, I like you, Del. I think this is the start of something really beautiful.”

“I'm chokin' up here, sweetheart. Touched, I swear. Now get the fuck out.”

And Ari left, giving one last smirk at the room that had the shower running in it. Valentine O'Dell may have had a hard life up until that night, but things were about to get a lot better for her.

And she is going to spend a long time thanking me for it.

7

Valentine stayed in her post-coital bliss all throughout her shower. Ran her fingers over the bite mark on her neck, rubbed at the aches in her thighs. Considered touching herself, then thought “why waste it on myself when there's someone downstairs to share it with?”

But when she went back downstairs, that someone wasn't there.

In fact, he wasn't anywhere.

And Val looked. She even got them to turn on the lights in the strobe room, eliciting a hundred disappointed moans. But he wasn't there.

Ari had left the club.

Of course he did. He'd gotten what he'd paid for, why would he need to stick around?

Reality started to creep in, but it was different from the other times. Instead of the slight gnawing sort of guilt she sometimes felt about being an escort, this felt like a tidal wave of shame and depression, threatening to crash over her and drown her.

Trash, trash, trash. Came here to have a better life, and I've only sunken lower than I've ever been.

Valentine would not let the tidal wave take her in the middle of the club, though. She needed this job. She wouldn't be able to do it that particular night, but she'd have to be able to come back tomorrow, as well as the day after. The wave would just have to wait.

So she took a deep breath, pushed her damp hair over her shoulder, then made her way up to DelVecchio's office.

“How you doin', dollface?” he asked when she walked into the room. She was surprised to see Serge there, and then shocked when he stood up and hugged her. He squeezed the breath out of her lungs, lifting her feet off the ground, before abruptly letting her go and hurrying out.

“What was that all about?” she asked, watching him as he practically jogged away.

“Eh, rough night. Sit down,” Del offered, so she turned to face him and took her seat. “What's on your mind, sugar?”

Valentine chewed on her lips for a moment. He was greasy and slimy and annoying as shit, but she really did like DelVecchio. She even liked her job, sort of – she didn't like what it turned her into, but she liked her coworkers, and she liked how safe she felt in the club. At home, she took care of everyone. At the club, everyone took care of her. It was ... nice.

And she knew because of one stupid, hormonal decision, she was about to change everything. The way Del looked at her, the way he treated her, it was all going to be different now.

You made your bed, bitch, now lay in it.

“I came to drop off a client's payment,” she said, keeping her voice nonchalant as she dropped the thick wad of hundreds