Page 18 of Ink & Desire

I cross my arms over my chest. “Rules are rules,” I say. “You’ll need an appointment. You can go to our website and book one easily.”

Avery crosses her arms, mimicking my stance. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Which option should I choose? The one that says, ‘Pointless conversation with asshole tattoo artist?’”

I hear a snicker from behind me and turn to see Noah trying and failing to hide his smile. When he notices me looking at him with raised brows, he clears his throat and returns to tattooing his client. The steady buzz of the machine fills the shop again. When I turn back to face Avery and her friend, her expression is conciliatory.

“Look,” she says in a polite tone. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. That was my fault, and I’m sorry. I should have been honest about why I was here. I was hoping that you’d overlook that when you saw my work. I was clearly in the wrong. But I have an appointment in half an hour with another artist and I need my portfolio.”

“Did you lie to them, too?” I ask. “Do they think you’re getting a tramp stamp? Those are coming back in style, you know.”

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “No. I was honest. Unlike you, he doesn’t have a reputation for refusing to take on apprentices. In fact, he seemed eager to meet me. So, if you’ll just give me my portfolio, I’ll be on my way.”

I push aside my annoyance at her finding another artist so quickly. It’s what anyone would have done in her place if they were serious about pursuing this career. It’s obvious she’s serious, however absurd the idea seems on the surface. I just wonder why. Not that it matters. I want her gone. I don’t care about her reasons for thinking she wants to be a tattoo artist. There is one thing I do wonder, though.

“Who’s your next victim? Does he know you like to lie to get your way?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but the redhead beats her to it. “We’re going to Custom Skin,” she says, her voice acidic. “Can you stop holding her stuff hostage or do we need to get the police involved?”

I’m pretty sure it’s an empty threat because Avery seemed very against police yesterday when I’d threatened to call them. Not that I was planning to do it. She hadn’t known that. But that’s not the part of the redhead’s comment that bothers me. She’d said they’re planning to go to Custom Skin. Avery is hoping to apprentice there. I eye the woman before me, trying to imagine her working alongside the likes of Matt Young. I hate the idea for several reasons.

The first reason is that the mere idea of her apprenticing alongside Matt-Fucking-Young is ridiculous. I’ve seen her art, and I’ve seen Matt’s work. She’s way out of his league. She can do better than him and his shop. Not that I’m telling her that.

The second reason—and the one I’m blaming for the surge of anger I feel—is that Matt Young is a piece of shit. He preys on women, especially those who work for him. He tends to take on apprentices who are pretty and young, under the guise of mentoring them to become great tattoo artists. But most of them have ended up quitting before they finish a year with him. And only a handful have continued working in the field after. The tattoo world spans the globe, but stories and reputations tend to follow people. Matt is a talented enough artist, which is why he’s still doing business. But most respected artists try not to associate with him once they discover the person behind the art.

Again, I try to picture Avery working alongside him and I want to punch something. She’s just the type of woman Matt would go for. She’s young, naïve, and sexy in an innocent way. It’s that innocence that Matt would home in on and want to corrupt. Hell, hadn’t I had the same thoughts last night? But I know I’m nothing like him. I may have fucked with her last night, but I’m not the kind of man to abuse my power that way. If she were my apprentice, I’d treat her the same way I treat Jessie and Noah. As an employee and nothing more. For some reason, that thought irritates me too.

All this whirls through my mind in the few seconds we stand there. To them, it probably looks like I’m still fucking with Avery, debating whether to give her back her book. Not that I ever truly intended to keep it. I’m not a thief. I just like verbally sparring with her. But now that I know she’s going to take it to vie for an apprenticeship with Matt-Fucking-Young, I’m inclined to keep it a little longer.

Avery sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose as if willing herself to remain calm. When she meets my gaze again, she gives me a small smile. Her voice is sickeningly sweet when she speaks.

“Can I please have my portfolio?”

I eye her for a moment before answering.

“No.”

Her mouth drops open in shock. She clearly didn’t expect me not to give in to her demands. She throws up her hands, clearly finished with being polite. That didn’t last long.

“Why are you being such a dick?!”

“It’s just his nature,” a voice says from behind me. “He can’t help it.”

Great. Fucking Jess is here to help these women gang up on me. I turn to glare at her.

“I don’t recall asking for your input,” I bite off.

She just shrugs. “Just trying to be helpful and informative, boss.”

“As your boss, I’m ordering you to go back to your station,” I say, knowing damned well she’s not going to listen.

She winces dramatically. “Wish I could, but I could see you needed my help out here.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Sure, you do,” she says in a cheerful voice. Turning to Avery, she smiles. “Good to see you again. Your work is good.”

“Thanks,” Avery says, glancing between the two of us. “Can I have it back?”

“No,” I say at the same time Jessie says, “Sure.”

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