What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,49
crowded and hot and crazy in the Club Room, and she knew upstairs wouldn't be any better. Her feet were already starting to hurt. Of course she wanted to leave, so why was she balking?
Because if you leave, you'll have sex with him, and you're scared that'll mean you're really a whore, no matter what you tell yourself.
“You don't think it'd be rude of me to ditch everyone here?” she asked, clinging to the only valid excuse she had.
“I don't think anyone would even notice if you left,” Ari said, then he sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “Look. I've had a long night. I didn't come here to flirt with you and compliment your outfit. If you don't want to leave, that's fine, but I'm going. Maybe I'll see you next week.”
Maybe ... as in maybe not. And how would I feel about that?
“Just give me five minutes, I have to grab my bag.”
10
Fifteen minutes later, Valentine was back in the tiny Porsche, cruising through the streets of Chicago. She reclined her seat back and stuck her feet on the dash.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ari asked, staring at her boots on his leather dash.
“You wouldn't want me to get swollen ankles, would you?” she asked back, smiling big at him. He stared for a second longer, then when she didn't move, he shoved her feet to the floor.
“Live like an animal on your own time. Put your feet back up there again, and I'll make you walk home.”
She laughed all the way to his loft.
It was strange going in the second time around. Something felt different. Obviously nothing had changed in the eight hours that had passed. Still the same furniture, still the same polished floors and counter tops.
Yet now .. she knew it. She had the key dangling from a long chain around her neck. It wasn't just Ari Sharapov's apartment, not anymore. Now it was also a space for her.
She hadn't expected to feel that way.
“I don't know if I said it before, but I like your place,” she said, following him into the kitchen area. There was a wide island in front of the stove, and she dropped her backpack in front of it.
“You do?” he replied, not paying attention to her as he opened a cupboard and got down a couple of tumblers.
“Yes. I've always liked lofts, studio spaces. Not small ones, but big ones, like this. So even though there's no doors, it still feels like you get some privacy,” Val explained, pulling at the pins in her hair. She had it all up in two buns on the sides of her head. The heavy brown locks quickly came tumbling down around her shoulders. Ari glanced at her, his eyebrows raised, then he leaned down to open his freezer.
“Have you ever been in an apartment like this?” he asked, his voice full of doubt. She playfully glared at him as he pulled out a bottle of vodka and sat it on the island.
“I know you think I'm some sort of poor, helpless, orphan, but I'm really not,” she told him, yanking her tresses up into a messy ponytail. “My parents did okay, we lived in a nice place. I've been to many a party in Manhattan – places that make this loft look pathetic in comparison.”
That got him to laugh, and the sound was loud and surprisingly warm. He sloshed the vodka into the two glasses, dribbling it all over the counter, then he slid one of the drinks to her.
“Well, then, I stand corrected her. Here's to Saint Valentine,” Ari said, toasting his glass to her. “Manhattan Socialite and Chicagoan Party Girl.”
“God, that sounds depressing,” Val laughed, and she clinked her glass against his before taking a sip.
“I prefer the Party Girl to the Socialite, myself,” he said. “Harper was great to look at, but frigid as fuck and a massive bitch. She'll become a very lovely, and very mean, trophy wife some day.”
Valentine froze in the act of taking another drink. Held still for a second, then downed the last of the vodka.
“I want to add an amendment to our deal,” she said. Ari's eyebrows were up again – they spoke more on his emotions than his mouth ever seemed to.
“Oh, already? I'm intrigued,” he replied, leaning against the island. She took a deep breath.
“Don't ever talk about her again.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, obviously ingesting what she'd said, but not seeming too bothered by it.