She was comfortable here, sitting in the chair across from me. Maybe that was what annoyed me the most. That I wasn’t telling her to stop. Instead I leaned back in my chair and let my attention drift, catching details without meaning to.
The way she absentmindedly twisted her bracelet when she was thinking, her fingers toying with the chain the same way they had the night I gave it back to her.
The way her nose scrunched slightly when she read something she disagreed with, a tell I doubted evensherealized she had.
Christ, I was paying too much attention again.
Time to wrap this up.
“Five minutes,” I said.
“For what?”
“Until I throw you out.”
Valentina smirked but didn’t argue. She set the file down, stretching her arms above her head before slipping off the chair.
I tracked the hem of her dress and the way it clung to her hips when she shifted.
Then I noticed Max coming down the hall. Heard him too.
Valentina straightened immediately.
I reached for the paperclip she’d left on my desk, turning it between my fingers. Then I dropped it into the drawer and slammed it shut.
She didn’t wait for an invitation before she turned and walked straight to Max’s office the same way she always had, like a woman used to facing the firing squad.
The door shut behind them.
I sat there for a moment, my jaw tight, watching through the clear walls as she slid the envelope across his desk, her mouth moving as she spoke. I couldn’t hear the words, but I could see the way she gestured; the way Max leaned back in his chair as he listened.
She pulled out the AA chips. Proof of her sobriety.
Max examined them.
Then he nodded.
She’d done it.
Bullshitted her way through it all, and it hadworked?
I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Valentina had always been resourceful—if you could call manipulation and deception resources. It was the reason Max bothered with her at all; why he gave her chance after chance despite her reckless habits and tendency to spiral at the first opportunity. She could talk her way out of almost anything.
Almost.
But this felt different. I’d seen enough addicts, enough people who were drowning and clawing at whatever they could grab, to know sobriety wasn’t something you could fake convincingly for long. Maybe that was why this bothered me. I couldn’t tell if she was finally pulling herself together or if she’d just gotten better at putting on a convincing show.
I glanced back at Max, who’d relaxed slightly, that tight set of his shoulders loosening just enough to tell me he believed her—or at least, he believed her enough to let it slide.
Valentina must’ve said something snide. I could tell by the way Max’s subtle smile was replaced by a very obvious grimace.
She grinned.
Of course she did. It wasn’t enough for her to win—she had to rub it in his face too. There was a part of me that admired her nerve. Another part, the one that had to clean up the messes she left behind, wanted to shake her by the shoulders and ask her what the hell she was thinking.
I didn’t though. I just sat still, watching as she sauntered out, the envelope now empty in her hands, slipping it back into her purse.
She walked like she knew the whole room was watching. Like she enjoyed it. Like she’d practiced the entrance and exit in front of a mirror a thousand times, perfecting every subtle movement until she knew exactly what kind of impression she left behind.
