“Only one?” I asked dryly.
She smiled sweetly. “One more than I expected.”
Her attitude had changed a lot when she found out who I worked for. She was no longer the sweet mess I’d first met.
She wasn’t exactly subtle in her hypocrisy either—quick to judge me for working with Max, but conveniently forgetting she was the one tangled up with Callahans, hiding winebottles under counters and running herself ragged chasing after trouble.
I didn’t care what she thought of me. Hell, I’d spent my life dealing with judgment from people who mattered a lot more than her—commanding officers, doctors, therapists convinced they had me figured out after two sessions and a checklist. Valentina’s opinion didn’t rank highly enough to sting.
But still, it bothered me more than I liked. Maybe it was because she was exactly the kind of person I’d spent my whole life avoiding. Chaotic. Self-destructive. The type who refused to acknowledge her own mess but had no trouble pointing out everyone else’s.
“Your judgment isn’t exactly something I lose sleep over.”
“I’m sure you sleep just fine. People without morals usually do.”
She had a bite to her—one that irked me but made me want to smile all the same. It was refreshing, honestly. Most people tiptoed around me, afraid of offending the wrong person or burning bridges. But Valentina didn’t just burn bridges—she set them on fire and then watched to make sure they stayed lit.
“Careful,” I warned lightly. “The attitude you have is meant for a man named Jacob, not me. If Max wanted pictures of you buying cheap wine, he wouldn’t send me. Too expensive.”
I didn’t care what she drank or where she bought it. Whether she poured her life into a glass and drank it dry or stayed sober long enough to claw her way back up, it didn’t matter to me.
I continued. “And I wouldn’t waste my time either. Whatever you’re hiding, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Her eyes flashed as if the anger she felt had cut through the disappointment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means your mess isn’t special. Max doesn’t need a file to know exactly how this plays out.”
She stiffened. “And how does it play out,lawyer? Since you’re so damn sure you’ve got me figured out.”
“It ends with you being exactly what everyone already expects,” I said, reaching my arm behind her to place my drink on the mantel. “A drunk who can’t keep it together.”
CHAPTER 8
VALENTINA
There’s a moment in every bad idea when you realize just how bad it is. For me, it came ten minutes into an AA meeting, sitting in a circle of folding chairs that made my back ache and my pride shrivel.
This wasn’t rock bottom, but I could certainly see it from here.
The linoleum floor was scratched to hell, and the coffee smelled like something had died in it. Todd—or Tom, or something equally forgettable—was sharing his story about how he’d hit his two-year chip.“One day at a time,”he said, on the verge of tears. Everyone clapped like he’d just solved world hunger.
I clapped too, because what else do you do when a grown man cries in public?
Maybe I wasn’t sentimental enough for sobriety. Or maybe I was just too pissed off to care.
This was my last meeting before I received my thirty-day chip, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. The final hurdle before Max handed over the money and I could stop pretending to care about these people and their feelings.
Thirty days sober. That was the deal. And I’d made it—technically.
I hadn’t touched a drink in weeks, though not for any noble reason. I just wanted to survive long enough to keep my mom breathing and my rent paid.
I stared at the coffee in the Styrofoam cup. My reflection rippled faintly across its surface.
Someone else across the circle was crying, their voice trembling as they talked about ruining Thanksgiving dinner and their kids not calling them anymore. I tuned it out, focusing instead on the crumpled slip of paper in my coat pocket—the one I needed to get signed to prove I’d been here.
The last meeting hadn’t gone so well. I’d stormed out when they’d tried to get me to share, and I didn’t get my slip signed. Max didn’t know, but he would if I screwed this up again.
He’d find out. Healwaysfound out.
