Page 59 of Addicted Lies

“It would appear the artist you booked with suddenly fell ill, so I took over,” he says smugly.

Is this guy out of his fucking mind?

“Please tell me you didn’t kill the artist,” I growl. This man is madness in a bottle. One that, up until now, I’ve been happily sipping from. But where does it stop? When does it hurt too much that I run away, even though I already have?

“No, I have no reason to kill my employees. Unless, of course, they lay a hand on you.” He shoots me a devilish grin, and I want to smack it off his face.

“Since when the fuck do you own this place?”

He looks at his watch and then back to me. “Since four hours ago. And you can run, but just so you know, I’ve bought every tattoo parlor in the area, and they all have your name and face, so the moment you book an appointment, I’ll be notified.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind!”

His expression changes. I know that look well. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to strip away all of my clothes and inhibitions. My body freezes. I hate the way it responds to him, even when I’m at odds with myself and trying to fight it. Even when I’m trying to rationally tell myself he’s crazy.

“I told you I won’t let any other person mark your skin.”

“You mean finish off your tattoo?”

“No. I mean, touch you.”

The silence stretches between us. “We agreed to end us. You don’t get to go all macho over the decisions I make with my body,” I say, infuriated.

He stares at me, and the silence and tension build. I know I should walk out. I know that. I know it’s the same dance without rhythm or rhyme that we’ve been repeating these last few months.

He’s always there. Even when he’s not there, I’m thinking of him. And when I’m trying to walk away, he still appears.

“You can’t keep doing things like this. What if I tell Dutton?”

“Tell him,” he says, his tone serious. Hearing him say that has a wave of emotions breaking over me because we know the consequences will be greater for him than for me. It was my idea to keep us a secret in the first place, and yet I’m pissed with him for following the rules I set. “Until then, jeans off and on the bed like a good girl.” He taps the bed, then sits back and watches me. “Or we can play this same game every time you try to get that tattoo finished. But let me tell you now, Chaos, I’m the only one who will be finishing that piece. So either you get your ass up here, or we continue this game of yours.”

“I’m not playing any games. You’re the one who showed up here uninvited!”

He arches an eyebrow. Okay, so maybe I’ve been biting back a little, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Ford is a man of his word. Which means he will absolutely show up to every tattoo parlor I ever try to go to.

“You can’t possibly afford to buy every tattoo parlor in the world,” I grumble in complaint as I drag my feet toward the bed.

The defiant part of me wants to turn around and walk out the door, but I really want this tattoo finished. And he’s the one who started it, so he should be the one to finish it. I just didn’t think he would go to these lengths to do so.

“I’m a man with few needs, little chaos. I have more money than I know what to do with. And if I have to use it all buying every tattoo parlor to ensure no one else touches your skin, I’ll do exactly that.”

He begins fiddling with the gun and inks, and I hate the way he so easily commands a room. The way my heart flutters at his declarations that can so easily be taken differently by another woman. I consider myself not to be one of those foolish, lovesick girls… but maybe I am. And I hate that he has that over me. It turns out that even though my brother has been protecting me all this time, I never once had my guard up around Ford. And now I’m dealing with the consequences.

I begin undoing my jeans. “You understand what you did was crazy, right?”

“How so?” he asks, his gaze pinned to where I fiddle with my zipper.

“No. We’re not having sex. I won’t be your hit or fix, or whatever the fuck you think I am to you,” I firmly state.

His gaze darkens, but then he looks away as if ashamed. My stomach drops at the harshness of my words for poking at his demons and using them as a weapon. But if it’s the only thing to protect my heart from this monster who so easily stole it, then I’ll do it.

The palpable tension sits with us in this room like an insufferable weight, and I can’t stand it. Hate how much we’re both hurting when we never set out with that intention, so I extend a slight peace offering by changing the subject. “How did you manage to purchase this place so quickly? Aren’t there contracts and waiting periods?”

“When you have money, you don’t really have to wait for anything, do you, little chaos?” I can’t argue with his logic because I know he’s right. I’ve seen my family members buy many things, not in the legal way. So I shouldn’t really expect anything less from him, considering who his family is. But Ford’s right about something else, too. Besides his modest home, I don’t often see him spending his money. He wears plain, affordable clothes and lives a humble enough life. He’s not lavish like Hawke, who spends most of his money on women and partying.

“Now, drop the pants.” He nods to my jeans, this time without the smoldering gaze he had on them before. I remove my jeans and toss them on a chair in the corner. I actually wore panties today in an attempt at modesty. I was just planning to slip them to the side so the artist could finish my tattoo. He eyes the silky garment but says nothing.

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