Page 91 of Mark & Don't Tell

“Hey, Mika.”

“Hey, boss,” she says, waving at Vic. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Daria, my girlfriend.”

Mika’s mouth pops open in surprise, but she recovers nicely. “Oh, well, that’s cool as shit. Nice to meet you, Daria. Vic’s pretty okay.”

“Pretty okay?” Vic asks with a chuckle.

She grins at me, and I smile back. “Yeah, you’re all right,” she tells him. “I have to water the plants—they’re so needy—but maybe we can talk later?” That question is directed at me.

“Sure, nice meeting you.” When I glance at Vic to see if he watches her walk away, his eyes are set on me.

“Only you, little doe,” he says with a knowing grin.

Refusing to confirm that I was worried he’d find her attractive, I look around the shop. The front desk is a small U shape that sits in the middle of the lobby floor. There’s a door leading to what must be a back room, and the walls up front are lined with work from the different artists and the shop employees. There’s a small merch station off to the side and a few couches set around the room. On the left is a staircase, leading up to where the tattoo stations must be.

“What do you want to see first?” Vic asks.

“Show me where the magic happens.”

Still holding my hand, like he’s worried I’ll run away—or maybe he merely wants me close—Vic leads me up the stairs and to the station at the very back of the room. The wooden floors run the length of the room, ending at the exposed brick walls. Custom art is hung around the space as well, which makes sense for the type of work they do. The plants that Mika’s here to take care of are all around the floor, too, giving the space some warmth that the brick walls lack.

Vic’s station is mostly clean, but there’s a small spread of designs on his worktable. I tug my hand from his and stop at the desk, studying the precise lines, the emotion he somehow evokes with a simple outline.

“Wow, you’re really good.”

“Yeah?” Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he rests his chin on my shoulder and looks at the art. “I don’t like any of those.”

“Why? They’re amazing.”

His palms clutch my low stomach, and butterflies roar to life. Sighing, he shrugs. “They’re not perfect.”

If this is his worst, I’m dying to see the work he is proud of. My graphic design work almost feels silly in comparison. I run my finger over the portrait of a little baby. Somehow, he’s captured that innocent joy only babies have. “They’re really, really good, Vic.”

He hums and kisses my shoulder. “Thanks, little doe. Do you want one?”

Turning in his arms, I gaze up at him, biting my lip when I spot the pure adoration shimmering in his eyes. This beta likes me. “I’ve never gotten a tattoo.”

“So, I’d be your first?” he asks with a wicked grin, running his hands down to grip my ass.

I swat his chest and giggle, burying my head against his chest to hide my inner turmoil from him. There’s nothing I want more, but again, it feels wrong to agree until they know the truth. It’s killing me to wait until Monday to tell them. It only feels right to tell them all together, though. “If I want one, you’d be my first,” I mumble against his shirt.

He hums in approval and his fingers coast up my spine. “There are so many places I could put it.”

I bet money he’s not only talking about a tattoo, but Mika is here, and I’m not sure I want to add exhibitionism to my repertoire. “So, this is your station. What about the rest of the shop? What’s your favorite space?”

“I like my station, but I love escaping to the break room between clients.” His eyes flicker, and he tips his head. “Actually, there’s something I want to show you.”

As we pass Mika on the way down the stairs, she simply nods at us. I take pride in not being insecure, but it’s nice to know this gorgeous woman that’s around Vic all the time isn’t interested. She’s more concerned about the plants than she is my scent match.

That irrational omega jealousy takes solace in that.

The break room has a totally different vibe from the main floor. The lights are dim, and the walls are lined with thick, dark wooden panels. Two comfy couches sit on either side of a coffee table, and a stream of misty air shoots out of a cute diffuser. When Vic turns to look at me with an expectant look, it takes me all of two seconds to figure out why.

Lavender, soft touches of an ambery musk. I know that scent.

“That’s me,” I say softly.

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