Written By Fate (5 page)

Surprise Torture

Our morning starts out rough. Getting ready to drop Allie at
sleepover soccer camp brought havoc on me. I was a goddamn ball of tears and
blubbered like an idiot as she tried to peel away from my clinging hands. It’s
the first time ever that we’ve been away from each other for longer than two
days and I’m clearly not dealing well with it. To make matters worse she seems
like she couldn't care less. It takes me forty minutes to stop sobbing in the
car. When I finally made it to work I blew in, head down, and hit the bathroom
to reapply my runny make-up.

“You alright, muffin?” Sawyer pats my back as I exit the
bathroom. I sniffle, trying to fend off the next wave of tears as he pulls me
into his chest. “Our little girl is growing up,” he says with a hint of
sadness. His words cause me to break down all over again as I try to tell him
through my sobs that she didn't even care that she wouldn't see me for a week.
He chuckles softly and tells me to get it together. I’m an emotional wreck so I
stand clinging to him a bit longer until some stupid tart, named Kylie, clears
her throat next to us.

“Who died,” she says flatly while glaring at me. Sawyer
stiffens.

“Back off Kylie,” Sawyer clips his warning.

“Oh, excuse me for stepping on toes but it’s not exactly
every day I stop in to visit my boyfriend and find him wrapped around another
woman,” she barks. Sawyer sighs and hesitantly drops his arms and I momentarily
become a jealous shrew.

“You know, Kylie, from the moment we met I knew I was going
to spend my life avoiding you,” I snap, stomping off, leaving them to their
business.

“Clara?” a deep voice booms. My steps falter as I look up to
Dominic. Today is just not my day.

“Dom, hi,” I say. His lips twitch at my nickname.

“You’ve been crying.” It’s not a question.

“You’ve been perceptive,” I throw back, earning me a smirk.
Sarcasm falls out of my mouth like stupid statements fall out of his.

“Anything I can help with?” he asks, seeming genuinely
concerned.

“Sure, you can tell me why you’re stalking me,” I grind out,
unable to deal with him right now. His eyes flash dark before lighting again.
It’s like I have some strange effect over him. I snort at my train of thought.
Yeah, right.

“I told you. I’d like to make an appointment with you.”

“You do know what I do for a living, correct?” I retort
curtly.

“I’m aware, yes. I’ve even seen some of your work.” And
there it is--he checked out the spread in
Inked
. Glancing at the date
book, it appears I’m available until eleven.

“Well, come on back, Dom, I’ve got time to do you now if you
know what you want done,” I purr. He looks shocked and I can’t help but
chuckle. “You do want a tattoo, right?” I chuckle.

“Yes,” he says a bit hoarsely and follows me back to my
station.

“All right, lay it on me,” I clip.

He shrugs out of his suit coat and I watch as his eyes dart
around looking for some place suitable to hang it. I reach for it and he hands
it over willingly. I toss it haphazardly on the stool next to me. I’ll be
damned if he thinks I’m going to cater to his high-class needs. He cocks his
head and eyes me warily. I keep my poker face intact and wait for him. He
starts unbuttoning his shirt and my chest starts heaving as I watch his slow
deliberate movements. I glance around and notice Kylie watching him like a hawk
as he starts to peel his shirt off. My gaze drifts back to the Dom show and
it’s definitely a show to see.

I’ve tattooed plenty of amazing bodies but for some reason I
can’t stop the drool starting to pool in my mouth at Dom’s physique. He clearly
works out regularly. His chest and shoulders are broad and well-developed. He
pulls his white under tank up over his head and I think my insides burst into
flames at the same moment my lungs stop working.

He has a perfect six-pack that contracts as he shirks his
tank and tosses it on top of his shirt where his jacket lies. I watch his
muscles twitch, like a fool, before screwing my head on straight.

Under his right arm spanning the length of his glorious side
is an intricate cobra. Color me shocked because the man before me is definitely
not a man who has tattoos. The tail starts just out of view below his pants and
the body snakes up his side, surrounded by roses in really fine detail. When he
twists it appears almost as if the snake is actually slithering. The body bends
left just under his armpit, wrapping around the edge of his shoulder blade
leaving the head, poised to strike, on his shoulder. It’s stunning and it’s
only an outline really.

“What do you think?” he asks as I remain silent.

“Nice tatt,” Kylie purrs, running a pointy fingernail down
the length of it. Dom grimaces as if her touch revolts him and I can't help but
giggle. Serves her right.

“If you don't mind, Kylie, please refrain from touching the
clients,” I say loud enough for Sawyer to hear.

“Kylie, what the hell?” he clips, making his way over to us.
Taking in Dom’s impressive tattoo he asks if he can inspect it further and Dom
agrees. “This Miller’s work?” he asks, clearly curious.

“How’d you know?” Dom asked, surprised.

“Didn’t Clara tell you we apprenticed with him?” He raises
an eyebrow in my direction.

“I didn’t have a chance yet,” I answer flatly.

“Anyways, yeah, we did,” he snorts, stands, and walks back
to his client, taking a grumbling Kylie with him.

“Is that his girlfriend?” Dom asks, bringing me out of my
trance.

“Oh, ah, sort of. Why, you want dibs?” I say casually. Dom
snorts his disinterest.

“No, I assumed you were his girlfriend yesterday,” he
answers honestly.

“Once upon a time,” I reply, though I don't really want to
give him any insights into my life.

“Interesting,” he says, watching me closely as if he’s
searching for something.

“You say that a lot,” I snap. “This looks great, why are you
here?” I say, guiding our conversation away from me.

“I want it colored in. I saw your spread in
Inked
and
I like what you’re capable of,” he explains.

“Dom, that much color is going to be expensive, as I’m sure
you know, and will take hours and multiple sessions to complete. I’m fairly
certain a man of your standing,” I throw his words back at him, “doesn't have
time available to fly to Virginia once a week for a month or two to finish
this.” I can’t get a read on his thoughts as he contemplates my words.

“Time and money are not a concern,” he finally answers.
Right. Of course that would be his answer.

“Miller is amazing. I’m sure he’d be happy to do this for
you. In fact, I know he would,” I push.

“As I said before, Clara, time and money are not an issue. I
want you to do it.” His voice is firm as if this conversation is now over.

“It’ll run you a grand and I only take cash,” I explain.

“I’ll have my driver withdraw the money while you work.”

I want to protest but I really want the money.

“Fine, fine. What coloring did you have in mind?” I sigh.

“None. I want you do what you do best: create a work of
art.” He smiles. His smile is dazzling. Bright and broad and perfect.

“Uh. That’s a little unprecedented for me. I like the client
to tell me what they envision so I can create something they love,” I explain.

“Clara. I have faith you can handle this. I want you to do
what you envision,” he encourages firmly. Who am I to argue with a grand? The
bitchy part of me wants to fill it in pink just to piss him off but the artist
in me has other ideas. After cleaning and shaving the area I have him lay on
the table. I circle around him, studying the tattoo’s lines and how Miller laid
it out, trying to see what he was going for. I knew Miller from Boston but
Sawyer and I had learned from him in D.C. during a brief stint there. He’s
notorious for being one of the most amazing artists out there.

I trail my fingers lightly over the tattoo. His flesh is hot
and smooth and I kind of want to taste and nip it. The way the snake evolves
and the flowers sort of burst from the body, I get a fantastic idea for golds,
greens, blues, and a fire-orange color for the roses. I vaguely notice Dom
following my every movement as I set up and prepare to start. Just to be a tease
I bend over grabbing something I don't need from the bottom shelf and wiggle my
butt just a little. The air he blows out is so slight that I almost miss it but
I don't. I stand up slowly. “I’ve got a client at eleven. That gives us roughly
an hour or so. I might be able to slot some time in later if you’re still
around. How’s your pain tolerance?” I toss over my shoulder at him.

“I won't need a break if that’s what you’re wondering.” He
smirks.

“Stamina. Impressive, Mr. Napoli,” I tease. “You’ll need to
pull your pants down a bit so I can get at it all.” Sawyer snorts in disgust
from his station but I ignore him. I watch as Dom rolls to his side, unbuckles
his belt and pants and pulls one side down, another few inches revealing the
tail. The “V” cut of his lower abs has my eyes bugging out of my head. I
shuffle to the stereo to stop myself from gawking at Dom’s body and push Play, letting
Avicii’s “Levels” filter through the speakers rather loudly. Sawyer glances at
me and smiles tentatively. He loves this remix almost as much as I do and at
the shop it definitely sets the mood for us both to get lost in our work. Chuckling,
Dom rolls back to his position and I slap on my gloves and clean and shave the
newly exposed area with care as his scent wafts over me. My god. I really need
to find out what he wears. Delicious.

“What time’s your last appointment?” he asks as I get
started.

“Ah...I should be done at four,” I say distractedly as I
begin the color process. I like the way his skin twitches as the needle hits
it. His breathing hitches just a little as my hand splays across his skin.

“Would you consider continuing our session after hours? You’ll
be compensated of course,” he offers. With Allie gone and Sawyer undoubtedly
hanging with Kylie tonight I don't have any reason to say no, outside of the
fact that I’ll be alone here with him unattended. I don’t do well unattended
with incredibly sexy, annoying men.

“I don't usually do that, you know, safety and all,” I
explain, focusing on what I’m doing.

“Four to seven. I’ll give you fifteen hundred, all up
front.”

Damn. That’s an extra five hundred. I can feel Sawyer’s eyes
boring a hole into my head so I glance up. He looks torn. He knows the money's
too good to pass up but I know he doesn't want me here alone with Dom for three
hours either. I give a little shrug and he backs down, giving me the go-ahead.

“Done,” I tell Dom. Our hour passes quickly and surprisingly
silently. At eleven I clean and bandage him up and watch as he redresses. He is
one fine-looking man, a man that I would have bet money didn't have any
tattoos. I was wrong. I rip off my gloves, throwing them in the trash, and walk
him to the front. “Can you make it four-thirty so I can grab something to eat
before we start?” I ask. Damn, I’m being pleasant. He smiles widely at me and I
can't help but feel giddy, excited even. He steps to me. We’re toe to toe and I
have to look up to see his face. Tiny electric currents shoot through my veins
at what happened the last time we were this close. Butterflies burst out in my
belly and I flush. He leans down and I swear he’s going to kiss me. I wet my
lips without really thinking about it and pretty much stop breathing altogether
when he jerks back up and shakes his head before stalking to the door. What...
the... hell!?

“I’ll bring dinner, we can eat together,” he states as he
pushes through the door. I stand there, lip curled, wondering what the hell
just happened. He didn't even ask me what I wanted. I run my hand through my
hair and turn around. Sawyer is standing just behind me giving me an evil look.
Oh. I guess I know why he didn’t kiss me.

“What?” I ask innocently. He shakes his head at me.

“Do what you need to get him out of your system but do it
quick,” he clips and pushes past me. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“What are you alluding to exactly?” I yell.

“We both know you want to fuck him so get it over with
already,” he yells back. My eleven o’clock appointment comes in mid-fight but I
don’t back down. Why the hell is Sawyer so bent?

“Screw you, Sawyer,” I hiss.

“You’ve already done that, Clara,” he says and smirks. My
rage bubbles to the surface and I lunge at him, fists wildly flailing. He
catches my arms easily and drags me screaming obscenities to the back room.

“Fuck, Clara.” He rubs his chest as he lets go of me. “That
hurt.”

“What’s your problem, Sawyer? Seriously. What is it about
him that irks you so much?” I shout, still angry at him.

“I’m sorry. It’s not my place. If you’re attracted to him
then do what you gotta do but you and I both know you don't belong in his
world. What happens when your picture appears in the rags with you on his arm?
Huh?” he pushes and I know he’s right. I can’t risk it. If anything were to
happen between us it has to be on my level. Low key. I suck in a few ragged
breaths and nod at him.

“I know, all right? I’m not interested in a relationship
with him,” I huff.

“Then screw him and move on,” he says through gritted teeth.
We avoid my sex life at all costs. It seems to kill Sawyer to admit that there
is anyone outside of him. It’s a fine line we walk together.

I walk back out having calmed myself and grab my next
client. I busy myself the rest of the day with my work and ignore Sawyer. Kylie
appears at three to collect him and I barely acknowledge his half-assed
goodbye. My last appointment finishes up at three-thirty, giving me a little
time to clean up and refresh my make-up. I lock the door after she’s left and
get to it.