Rose (Thorn Tattoo Studio Book 1)

by Leslie North

  “Feel the way that pattern fits here?” Giovanni asked as he traced the rough outline of Derrick’s sketch. “Feel how it pairs with your shoulder blade and follows the length of your shoulder just right? How the angles would match up? That’s where a tattoo like that would go. I would never disfigure a beautiful young woman by putting a busted up design like that on a part of her body that didn’t suit it.”

  Giovanni’s hand dropped from her back and his finger traced along her hip now. The skin there was softer, padded by her curves but still tight. It drove him wild.

  “Here?” Giovanni asked. He realized his voice had dropped to a whisper, husky with desire. His cock strained against the front of his pants. Riley turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, and he saw up close how her pink lips had parted in a silent gasp. The air became heavy between them, charged with unspoken chemistry. “Here’s where you put softer, more feminine designs. Natural patterns. Ethereal creations. Swirling galaxies. Tattoos with true beauty and movement.”

  As he spoke, his fingers traced across her skin, from the peak of her hip to the valley of her waist. Slowly, Riley turned to face him. Giovanni’s fingers never broke from her skin.

  “That’s what skin this beautiful deserves,” Giovanni told her. The distance between them was close to non-existent, and their noses nearly brushed. Giovanni made out every detail in her dark eyes, and heard the way her breathing hitched slightly whenever he glided his fingers across her skin. “Not some bullshit like what Derrick did. So that’s why we’re not hiring that asshole.”

  Riley’s lips parted as if she was going to speak, but Giovanni didn’t want to hear it. His hand on her waist grew firm, and he pushed her back against the wall and kissed her hard.

  To his surprise, Riley kissed him back.

  Their lips crushed together, Giovanni spearheading the passion, but Riley eager to meet it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and wove her fingers through his hair, and Giovanni loved the way she tugged, as if she had any say in what happened between them.

  He pinned her body with his own, letting her feel his erection as he pressed it against her stomach. Riley groaned into the kiss, and he fed his tongue into her mouth and tasted her for the first time. She was sweet. Giovanni couldn’t get enough.

  At last, with a sudden gasp, Riley broke from the kiss. Her fingers relinquished their grip on his hair, and she set her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back.

  “No,” she said, firmly but finally. Her lipstick was smudged, and the big gorgeous hair she always kept so perfect was messy. She’d never looked so fucking beautiful before. She pushed past him and left the office to lock herself in the shop bathroom, leaving Giovanni alone with his thoughts.

  She said no now, but she wouldn’t say it forever.

  He’d make her bend to his will, and when he did, Riley would be his.

  6

  Riley

  As time wore on, two things became painfully clear to Riley. The first was that she would never get Giovanni to accept her as a professional who had Thorn Tattoo’s best interest at heart. The second was that there was no universe in which she’d ever be able to get over her physical attraction to him.

  Not after a kiss like the one they’d shared.

  Riley knew she would have gone further without a second thought if it wasn’t for the fact that he was her coworker. No matter how she tried to talk herself out of thinking it, Giovanni was handsome. Rugged in all the right ways, built for power, and dangerously sexy. On a purely physical level, he was her type. But his attitude and the fact that they worked together? Complete turn-off.

  Riley wasn’t prepared to jeopardize her position over a man who happened to be the owner’s brother. Giovanni was hot, but he wasn’t worth the loss of employment. She didn’t move all the way to Las Vegas to end up unemployed. She couldn’t suppress the grin at what Amanda would think of it all. More than likely turning over in her grave and flipping her the bird. Her friend had fought long and hard to be accepted as an equal in a world that used to cater predominantly to men. Riley was not going to let her friend down. Not after everything she’d gone through.

  All of those things considered, Riley knew that it was time they worked out a compromise. If Giovanni wouldn’t come around and realize that the finances were more essential to keeping the business afloat than hiring new artists was, then she’d need to change her tactics and get him to consider alternate revenue streams instead of talking numbers. The more diversified their income, the better the chance they had at riding any ebbing demand in the market.

  Vegas had plenty of tattoo shops, but what it lacked was professional development courses for artists. She knew that if she could convince Giovanni to use some of the time he spent managing the shop to teaching instead, they’d be well on their way to a successful financial quarter.

  “Professional development courses?” Giovanni asked stiffly. He was standing at the door of Mal’s room, watching as Mal inked a sugar skull onto a young woman’s wrist. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Very few people are lucky enough to apprentice with world class artists. Those who can’t need help. We could conduct workshops focusing on shading, line work, color, black and white, even specific classes on the various art genres. From the materials side, we could go into things like assembling your own tattoo machines, or comparisons on inks and their effectiveness. Topics like dealing with stubborn customers or shop etiquette could be popular, too. There’s a whole slew of workshops we could put together for the professionals in town.”

  Mal snorted, not bothering to look up from his work. “Gio teaching lessons on shop etiquette? Yeah. No.”

  “Fuck off,” Giovanni mumbled. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  Riley opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it again. Had he really agreed so easily? She was shocked. Headstrong, stubborn Giovanni was giving her the go ahead for a project she’d put together herself.

  It had to be a dream.

  “Oh, well, great.” Riley blinked. “I think this project could be of real interest to some of the other tattoo shop owners in the area. If you could string together some ideas for workshops, I’d be happy to get in touch with Antonio to see if he’d know any potential investors we could reach out to for potential investment. Not only is this going to be lucrative for Thorn Tattoo, but it could also benefit local businesses and other tattoo shops.”

  “Go for it.” Giovanni didn’t turn to look at her, but Riley thought she could read a smile on his lips from his profile. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from looking too pleased with herself. “I’ll get you a list of ideas by the end of the day.”

  Giovanni kept his word. By the end of the day, he tossed a notepad in front of Riley containing a detailed list of potential workshops and how many hours each workshop would take. Riley spent the next several days playing phone tag with Antonio and cold-calling contacts.

  At last, her hard work came to fruition. One by one, investors started showing up at the shop to conduct meetings and discuss the future project. Not even Giovanni’s stubborn attitude could keep her from doing a good job. Riley was on top of the world, doing what she was best at.

  Another day at the shop meant another investor was coming to visit. Clinton Dunn owned Damn Shame Tattoos in Reno, and he’d come out on Antonio’s recommendation to discuss a potential partnership between his shop and theirs. Riley knew by experience that Giovanni was too proud to relinquish control of anything he considered his, but she was hopeful that Clinton might be able to talk him into giving away some of the workshop topics Giovanni was less than skilled at.

  Mal was right. Thinking about Giovanni talking his way through a class in shop etiquette was laughable. Riley would have taken on the course herself, but she knew she had no reputation in the tattoo industry. No one would come to a workshop by a no name.

  It was her hope that Clinton could help them out of that bind. He had a reputation in the industry and Riley
hoped that could help bring in interested parties from California and Arizona as well.

  Clinton Dunn was a heavyset man with a rounded stomach and skinny legs. His long, black beard was streaked with gray, and his face was leathery and deeply creased. The number 21 was tattooed on his cheek near his right ear, and intricately inked designs rose up the length of his neck, leaving very little blank skin exposed. He kept his hair long, and it tumbled down his shoulders, a little too greasy and stringy for Riley’s taste. Still, when he extended his hand to shake hers, she reached out for it without hesitation.

  When he pulled her into a tight hug, however, Riley’s shoulders tensed and she resisted the urge to drive her fist into his solar plexus.

  “Cute chick you got, Gio,” Clinton said as his arms tightened around Riley. He smelled like smoke and weed, and she wrinkled her nose and tried not to breathe in too deeply. If it were anyone else, she would have given him a piece of her mind, but she knew that they needed every investor possible. A little discomfort in exchange for another ally wasn’t all that bad.

  “She’s not a shop babe, Clinton,” Giovanni said rigidly. Riley heard the anger in his voice, and she took comfort in it. Soon enough, Clinton released her and she stumbled back, eager to take a deep breath of fresh air. “This is Riley Byrne, co-manager here at Thorn Tattoo. You’ll treat her with respect.”

  Riley took her spot at Giovanni’s side, standing beside his chair. The sole office in Thorn Tattoo wasn’t big enough for two desks, so they’d taken to sharing, either taking turns or working together at the desk when they were both in the office at the same time.

  “Right.” Clinton’s lips twitched. “So what’d you do that Antonio had to saddle you with a babe to keep you in check? Been slacking off? Putting your junk where it doesn’t belong on your brother’s time?”

  Riley felt her face grow ashen, and she glanced in Giovanni’s direction to judge his reaction. Under normal circumstances, Giovanni wouldn’t take abuse like that. To her relief, he scoffed.

  “You bastard.”

  “Just calling it like I see it.” Clinton took a seat on the opposite side of the desk and folded his hands behind his head. His beard hung down to his potbelly. “So, what are we looking at here? A workshop? I’m interested. Tattoo conventions roll through all the time, but there’s a lot of talent in the city who deserves to be fostered. Would be good to keep our current artists on their toes, let them know that there are upcoming artists eager to take their place if they get soft. God knows my boys are in need of some firm correction from time to time. They see the rarity of apprenticeship as a sign that they’re irreplaceable, and it’s total bullshit.”

  “One of our big focuses is on enticing beginners to practice in safe, monitored environments,” Riley replied. She smiled. So far, everything was going well. “There are a lot of poorly done tattoos by beginners who simply don’t grasp the fundementals and are desperate for a living canvas. I know we’re not going to eradicate bad tattoos by offering paid courses, but it’s a definite start toward reshaping the industry. There’s a lot of gatekeepers right now, and while I don’t think that should change, I do believe that we should actively encourage those looking to become tattoo artists to act responsibly and network.”

  Clinton shifted his gaze from Riley to Giovanni, and he grinned widely as though Riley couldn’t see him.

  “You mean to tell me this babe’s got tits and brains? God, Gio, you’re losing your touch.” Clinton’s grin grew devilish. “Well, your loss, I guess. If you’re not going to fuck her brains out, I guess I’m going to have to.”

  “I said you treat Riley with respect,” Giovanni hissed through clenched teeth.

  Riley pressed her lips together and watched him out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t heard him sound so angry since the customer had come in screaming about Thorn Tattoo scamming him out of money.

  “Oh, right, of course.” Clinton laughed. “I’ll give her a tissue to clean up with afterward, maybe even cook her breakfast if she wants to stick around long enough. What do you like, sweetcakes? Sau—”

  Clinton didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before his head twisted violently to the side, and the room was filled with the sickening thwack of flesh meeting flesh. It had happened so quickly that Riley hadn’t even had a chance to realize what was going on, but when she turned her head, she saw that Giovanni had risen to his feet and slammed his fist into Clinton’s cheek.

  Giovanni was breathing hard, his chest heaving with each rattling inhalation. His eyes were narrowed, and his jaw was jutted forward, furious. Riley gasped and took a small step back.

  “Gio,” she whispered. In the silence of the room, her voice sounded small.

  “Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that again,” Giovanni uttered. “If you can’t treat her with respect, there’s no damn reason for me to treat you with any. Get the fuck out of my shop. We don’t need you.”

  Riley knew she should have been upset that Giovanni was blowing their shot at landing another investor, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. He was defending her. Riley couldn’t remember the last time a man had stood up on her behalf.

  Clinton staggered to his feet as soon as he regained himself, but he wasn’t defeated. He set his jaw in defiance and balled his fists. “Goddamn you, DeRose.”

  “Get the fuck out before I make you get out,” Giovanni hissed. He cleared the desk and pushed Clinton toward the office door. Riley stood in the corner, observing and feeling small. She was prepared to defend herself if she needed to but the first step in self-defense was de-escalation. As far as she could tell, there was no way to fix what was happening, and no way could she talk a man as stubborn as Giovanni down from a fight.

  She had a feeling Clinton wasn’t the kind of man to back down, either.

  On his way stumbling backward, Clinton caught onto Giovanni’s wrist and tugged him forward. Both men crashed through the open office door and out into the hallway, colliding with the concrete partition that divided the office from one of the tattoo bays.

  Heart in her throat, Riley stumbled out after them and arrived at the office door just in time to see Giovanni seize Clinton by the head and slam him into the concrete partition. Mal burst through the swinging doors and then backed up when he saw what was going on. If it weren’t for the rock music playing through the speakers, the shop would have been silent. Not a single tattoo machine buzzed.

  Cursing at each other, voices raised and so distorted with anger that their words didn’t make sense, Giovanni and Clinton continued to fight. Blood trickled from Clinton’s forehead, but he wasn’t down for the count. He swung his fist at Giovanni’s face, and Giovanni took the hit and staggered back.

  Riley was paralyzed. If she called 911, then what would happen? Giovanni would go to jail, or at the very least be detained while the police figured the situation out. She wouldn’t be surprised if Clinton pressed charges given that Giovanni had thrown the first punch. If she left them to fight, there was no telling how bad it could get.

  The two men staggered out of the tattoo bay and toward the shop front, swinging their fists and yelling at each other. Ben ducked behind the front desk, keeping himself out of sight. Mal, from the door of his shop, locked gazes with her and waved her over. Riley darted from the office and into his tattoo bay, hoping that the click of her heels didn’t attract their attention. Riley wanted the fight to end, but she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it.

  “It’s best to let Gio get it out of his system,” Mal said once she made it into his room. His client, a middle-aged woman, stood on her tiptoes to look over the partition wall to watch the flight. “It’s not often that he blows up, but when he does, it’s for a good reason. If you try to step between them right now, it’s only going to end badly.”

  Riley shook her head. “I’ve got to do something.”

  “Then stay here and help me get all my shit together for the rest of this tat,” Mal said. “No o
ne wants you out there. You’re only going to get yourself in trouble.”

  But Riley knew she couldn’t stand by while Giovanni was getting hurt. What he was doing, he was doing for her. He could have easily let Clinton continue to harass her sexually, but he’d stepped in and let Clinton know in the clearest way possible that what he was doing was wrong.

  She’d long ago learned from Amanda that everyone in the shop was considered family and no matter what, you don’t desert family when times were tough. As fearful as she was of getting between them, Riley wasn’t going to let Giovanni go through this alone.

  She darted out of Mal’s room as Mal gasped and scrambled after her. At the front of the shop, Clinton smashed in one of the display cases of neo-metal jewelry and scrambled to grab Giovanni. Both men were bleeding, and both were too enraged and focused on the fight to notice as Riley made her way toward them.

  “Stop!” she shouted. Her voice cut through the commotion, but it did nothing to stop the fight. She knew they were getting tired. Both of them were sloppy, throwing punches and making grabs out of instinct rather than strategy. At this rate, there was no telling who would come out on top or if they would both collapse from exhaustion, neither one willing to concede to the other.

  Riley was going to end it before a victor could be declared.

  She hadn’t come dressed for a fight. The Peter Pan collared dress she wore was tight fitting in the torso and too frilly at the bottom to be practical, and she had no time to kick off her Louboutin pumps. Neither garment stopped her from forcing herself between the two men and pushing Clinton away from Giovanni to put some space between them. Trusting Giovanni not to hurt her, she kept her back to him while she kept her eyes on Clinton.

  “Act like men and sort this out with words,” she declared in a powerful voice.

  “Pretty words from a slut,” Clinton snarled. He swung at her, but Riley was faster than he was, even with heels. She moved into a stable position and lifted her arms to shield her face. The punch connected with her forearm, and although it hurt, she used it to her advantage. Riley grabbed onto Clinton’s extended arm, smashed her elbow into the crook of his arm, and then threw him toward the door once he was off balance. Giovanni followed him and chased him up the stairs, slamming the shop door closed once Clinton was out.