What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,32
money.
She decided to let that one slide.
“But forty percent is shit,” she pointed out, doing the math in her head. Fifty-two hundred dollars – that meant the real number had been thirteen thousand, which was on top of the thirteen hundred he'd given her and the thousand he'd given Del in cash. Again she felt lightheaded. How much money did Ari make!?
“Forty percent is what you're getting, dollface,” Del said, turning into a brick wall.
“Fine, fine, this was new, and I went about it like an idiot. That's my fault,” she said. “But next time – which there will most likely never be, but just in case – I will be present for the negotiating, or there is no deal, got it?”
“Of course, sweet cheeks, of course. Now get outta here, take the night off. You earned it,” he said, then he gave her a lascivious wink. She groaned.
“Don't do that, it makes me wanna puke.”
“And if you ever start to loosen up that stick that's in your ass, you could make a lot of money selling that USB stick!”
Valentine snorted and climbed out of her chair.
His secretary Maureen brought in a cloth tote bag and all the cash was shoveled into it. Then Val carried it back downstairs and shoved it into the bottom of her backpack. She contemplated changing into her day time clothes, then decided fuck it.
She slipped on her Chuck's and climbed onto her bike, all while still wearing her short, silver sequined mini skirt and matching long sleeved top. She put on her helmet, then she was off, biking through Chicago, probably flashing her panties to any oncoming traffic.
When she got home, she burst through the front door, almost giving her roommate Bailey a heart attack. She was standing in the small kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal.
“You're never home this early,” she pointed out, her wide eyes looking at Valentine's crazy get up.
“I know,” Val replied, unclipping her helmet and letting it fall to the floor. “I had a really good night, so they let me go home early.”
“You had a really good night waitressing?” Bailey sounded confused.
“Something like that,” Val chuckled. “See you tomorrow!”
Then she was bounding up the stairs and dancing her way into her room.
After she'd changed into some shorties and a tank top, she dumped all the bundles of cash onto her bed, sat in the middle of it all, and started counting. Yup, exactly what she'd calculated – six-thousand five hundred goddamn fucking dollars.
And sure, she'd had sex with a guy, but it hadn't been for the money. She knew that now. She would've ended up fucking him that night no matter what, it had only been a matter of time. His ballsy moves with the bills had simply pushed her over the edge – his looks and his touches and his voice had already had her teetering there for most of the night.
And what an edge it had been, Val sighed as she recalled it. She sat on the floor and tucked the money behind a loose baseboard, and while she did so, she allowed herself to relive some of the moments.
His tongue in her mouth. His hands on her ass. Squeezing. Smacking. Rough and unforgiving. It had been so long since she'd had sex, almost a year. What a way to break her dry spell. Good looks and even better dick, she'd really hit the jack pot that night. Her luck was usually terrible in the men department, so to find a sexy, rich, confident, man who was good in bed and single was quite a stroke of ...
Valentine was crawling into bed, and she paused as she realized exactly what it was she was thinking. What it was she was ignoring. Then she swallowed thickly and slipped between the covers. Stared at the ceiling for a while before turning out the light.
It doesn't matter. It's all a fantasy. He's just Aaron Sharapov, a man I'd never met before tonight. And I'm just Saint Valentine, patron saint of traveling and love. There is no girlfriend, and there is no money, and there is no whatever else I have to say to pay these goddamn bills and sleep at night.
8
Ari leaned back in the elevator, watching the floor numbers tick by on the screen. When they got to four, he stood upright and strode onto the floor as soon as the doors parted.
This was not how I'd planned on spending my morning.