Page 5 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
He holds a folder, which I realise he took from the bookcase behind me, and waves it at me.
With that, he turns around and stalks out of the apartment, leaving me standing there, watching his back as he leaves.
I exhale a breath and lean my shoulder against the wall. Wow. I hope every meeting with him isn’t going to be as fraught as that one had been. I’ll end up a nervous wreck within a week. He’s clearly the sort of man who doesn’t like the idea of a woman stepping into his territory. Well, tough. I’m here and I’m not going to allow myself to be bullied out of a place I own. It isn’t in my nature to take people on, but I’m also not going to be walked all over by some British meathead.
The exhaustion of all the travel, plus the jetlag, sweeps over me. I desperately want to sleep, but there’s no way I can bring myself to lie down on the bed in the small bedroom. I can’t imagine when the sheets have last been washed, if they’veeverbeen washed. I’ll go out and buy myself new ones. A new bed would be nice, if I can afford one, though I think I might have to make do, for a while at least.
I sigh again and push myself back upright. I wish I wasn’t so tired. I’m sure everything will be easier to handle without the fog of exhaustion surrounding me. It might be midday here in England, but it’s still early back home, and I barely slept on the flight over. I’d been so worked up about starting this new life, and wondering if I’d made the wrong choice, I hadn’t been ableto get my mind to switch off. I’m still questioning if I’ve done the right thing.
I shake the doubts away.
No, I had to leave. There’s no question. Staying in the small town where I grew up wasn’t going to work. Everyone knows too much about my business and I’m sick of all the patronising enquiries into how I’m doing, when all people really want is a bit of gossip they can pass onto their friends over coffee. When this place landed in my lap, it had been like my aunt had handed me a lifeline. I had only ever met my aunt once—during that trip here I’d taken with my father when I’d been ten—but I’d been her only living relative, so it makes sense that I’m the one who’s been left the property. Even so, I can’t help wondering if both my father and aunt were looking down on me, saw me struggling, and gifted me something from heaven.
Right, now, however, this might turn out to be closer to hell.
Figuring I needed something to do that doesn’t involve cleaning up another person’s mess, I decide to go grocery shopping in preparation for the clean-up crew later. Besides, if I’m going to stay awake until what constitutes a reasonable bedtime, I’m going to need coffee.
I headed downstairs and sneak out through the rear exit so I don’t have to come face to face with the angry, hot tattooist again.
No, not hot.I don’t think he’s hot.
He’s an asshole, and I’ll do best to remember that.
5
ART
Ispend the day struggling to concentrate on my work, finding my gaze constantly drawn to the ceiling and any movement going on up there.
When I told the others how we were going to be spending our evening, I was met with laughter and back slapping.
Kane snorted. “She’s only just got here and Art’s already under the thumb!”
Rocco joined in the ribbing. “You going to give her a foot rub when we’re done?”
“She is fit though,” Kane said. “I wouldn’t say no.”
For some reason, Kane’s words caused a rush of jealousy to surge up inside me. With his long blond hair and flirty attitude, Kane is popular with the women who visit the shop. I don’t want Kane to hit on Theresa while we’re all up there, sorting out the flat and drinking her beer and eating the pizza she’d bought. She doesn’t seem like the type of woman who would fall for Kane’s obvious come-on tactics, but I don’t want to take that risk either. I don’t need any more complications, and having one of my staff get involved with my landlady would only end in a mess.
Yet I find myself anticipating being in her company again. I’m certainly no domesticated god, but I can help her sort the place out, even though I’m only in it for the free beer and pizza.
The hours pass, and the three of us shut up shop and then prepare to head upstairs. Rocco and Kane are still ribbing me about being at her beck and call, but neither of them refuse to help with the clean up and head home either.
She must hear us coming up the stairs—which is hardly surprising considering the noise we’re making—as she opens the front door of the flat before we reach it. She smiles sweetly as we approached, with me leading the way. I don’t return the smile, and my scowl deepens when she holds out something rubbery and yellow to me. The smile doesn’t flinch from her face.
“I believe they’re called Marigolds,” she says.
I snatch the rubber gloves out of her grip.
Kane snickers behind me. “Do we hand in our balls as a deposit?”
Her expression doesn’t falter. “Only if you have a pair to leave.”
Despite my irritation, I bite back my smile at her retort.
“You can go without the gloves if you want,” she continues, “but we’re going to be using some industrial strength cleaning stuff for this place. If you like to bleach your skin off, go for it.”
“Fine,” Kane grumbles, taking a pair of the rubber gloves from her. “I don’t want to bleach my fucking tats off.”
