Chapter 12 #3
She rolled her eyes dramatically and finally climbed inside. I slammed the door shut behind her, rounded the car, and slid behind the wheel.
“Buckle up,” I said, glancing at her sideways.
“If I don’t, are you going to do it for me?”
“Want to find out?”
She hesitated for a second and then let out another loud sigh, this one even more exaggerated than the last, before clicking the belt into place while muttering something under her breath.
I didn’t care. Let her be mad. At least now she couldn’t run.
The car ride was quiet—at least outwardly. On the inside, I was still trying to get my shit together. I kept my eyes on the road.
She sat in the passenger seat stiff-backed and silent. Well, except for her occasional directions. Left turn. Right at the next intersection. Always just a little too late, forcing me to brake harder than necessary. She was probably doing it on purpose.
Her irritation was palpable. Her knee bounced impatiently, stealing my attention every few seconds.
It annoyed me how aware I was of her; how tuned in I’d become to every little movement she made.
The way her fingers drummed against her thigh.
The way her breathing quickened slightly every time she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.
Then my phone lit up on the dashboard screen.
Max Romano.
I stared at it. Let it ring once.
Twice.
Then I hit decline.
Valentina’s head turned slightly, just enough to let me know she’d seen it. “You always ignore him like that?”
I didn’t look at her. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether I feel like answering.”
She let out a quiet laugh—the kind that wasn’t really amused. “Doesn’t seem like the kind of guy you just ignore.”
“He’s not.”
“So,” she said, shifting in her seat, “why do you work for him?”
“Work is work.”
She hummed. “There are a lot of jobs out there. You could’ve been a mechanic. Or a plumber. Or literally anything else that doesn’t involve babysitting drunks.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s what you think I do?”
“Turn here,” she said, directing me before adding, “Am I wrong?”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch her eye. She was watching me like she was waiting for something.
“You’re a liability, Valentina,” I said simply. “Max keeps tabs on his liabilities.”
Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And you’re happy being one of his attack dogs?”
I should’ve let it roll off me. I should’ve ignored her like I’d ignored Max’s call.
But I didn’t.
“You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone whose entire life depends on Max’s goodwill.”
She scoffed. “Max’s goodwill is about as reliable as a dollar-store pregnancy test. Valuable when it’s convenient,” she complained, looking right at me. “Worthless when it’s not.”
“And yet here you are, banking on that worthless goodwill to keep you afloat. Funny how that works.”
“I’m not banking on anything, lawyer. That money was supposed to be mine, alcoholic or not.”
She was talking about her inheritance. “Your husband didn’t make you sign a prenup?”
I could feel the heat of her eyes even before I looked her way.
“Unlike you, he wasn’t obsessed with contracts and conditions.”
Did she know her husband at all?
“Clearly, he wasn’t obsessed with self-preservation either.”
“Don’t act like you knew anything about him,” she said finally.
“I knew enough,” I replied, focusing on the road. “I know he left you in a mess you couldn’t climb out of without Max stepping in. I know he was involved with the Callahans, which makes him either stupid or suicidal.”
What did that make me?
Her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so much smarter, don’t you? Like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“I think I know better than to get into bed with the Callahans,” I shot back.
She crossed her legs. “You’re paying attention to my sex life? Interesting. Should I be flattered?”
“No. Your sex life is the least interesting thing about you.”
“And what’s the most interesting? You seem to have given this some thought.”
“How you manage to screw up every opportunity handed to you. That takes effort.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “You’re so good at pointing out flaws. At judging me. Makes me wonder what you’re overcompensating for.”
“You’ll be disappointed to find out how little I have to overcompensate for.”
“I doubt that.”
“Keep doubting. Seems to be the only thing you’re good at.”
She turned in her seat to face me fully. “I didn’t pick this. I didn’t pick Max’s leash or your condescending ass, or any of it. So forgive me if I don’t appreciate being dragged around as if I should be grateful.”
“He’s trying to help you.”
So was I, but she wasn’t making it easy. I’d never met a woman more repellent to help in my life.
“Helping me would be making sure Sasha doesn’t follow me back home.”
I tapped the wheel once. “Is that what you want?”
“Clearly.”
“Why?” I wondered. “Does he bother you?”
“Bother me?” she echoed. “That’s putting it nicely.”
“Then what would you call it?”
She leaned back, sighing dramatically. “Harassment. Surveillance. Having a babysitter breathing down my neck. Take your pick.”
“If it weren’t Sasha, it’d be someone else,” I reminded her, because clearly, she hadn’t figured that part out yet.
She looked at me again. “Can you help me? Maybe you can tell Max I won’t step out of line if Sasha goes.”
I hated how easily she’d dragged me into this.
As if I weren’t already neck-deep in her mess.
Still, I considered it. Briefly. More than I probably should’ve done.
The thought of Sasha spending every night on her couch didn’t sit right with me.
Not that I cared who watched over her, but it didn’t need to be him.
I glanced sideways at her, already regretting my next words. “I’ll talk to him.”
Her eyes widened, surprised. It irritated me how pleased she looked; how quickly her attitude flipped. I tightened my grip on the wheel.
“Perfect,” she said.
I parked the car outside her building, waiting for her to get out. She hesitated briefly, but I didn’t look her way. Didn’t want to give her an opening to drag this out any longer than it needed to be.
“You can stop looking so miserable, lawyer. The torture’s over,” she muttered, pushing open the door and stepping onto the curb without another word.
I watched her slam the door shut and walk up the stairs, ponytail swaying behind her like a goddamn taunt. No “thank you,” no acknowledgment, just the same stubborn silence.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, reminding myself I didn’t expect gratitude.
If I did, I’d be disappointed every damn time.