“Mia!”
I lifted my head at the sound of Liam's voice. Fuck. Turning on my heel, I walked quickly in the opposite direction, determined not to let him see how affected I was by walking in on that. I could hear the heavy thump of his footsteps as he ran to catch me. “Mia, stop!”
“Go back inside, Liam,” I said coldly. “You can't just leave your clients waiting. It's rude.”
“Fuck that!” He grabbed me by the shoulder, spinning me around to face him. Hie expression was serious, his eyes on mine. “I know what that looked like, and I'm sorry you had to see it. But I was never going to touch her. I swear.”
“You don't have to explain yourself to me. You're a free man, Liam.” I folded my arms tightly across my chest as if I could hold back the raging emotions inside me and prevent them from escaping.
“Mia, listen to me. I did not touch her. I wouldn't have, even if you hadn't shown up.”
“Oh really? That isn't what it looked like to me!” I said, glaring at him. “Why was she in her underwear – if you can even call it that?” I spat, hating myself for even asking the question. It made it seem like I cared.
He gave a little shrug. “She was trying it on. It happens.” He took a step closer to me and I looked down at the pavement, unable to meet his eyes. “It doesn't mean I say yes.”
I bit my lip, holding myself together, my back poker straight, my shoulders stiff and unmoving as I forced myself to look up to his face, keeping my expression blank. “Well, like I said, you're a free man. It doesn't matter to me. Do what you like.” I turned away from him again. “You had better get back,” I said over my shoulder. “I'm sure she doesn't appreciate being made to wait.”
He gave an exasperated sigh. “Mia, she's gone. I told her to leave and to find another studio to finish the ink. I'm not having her back.”
I spun around to face him. “You did what?”
“You heard me. She's gone.”
“You kicked Naomi King out of your studio?”
“Fuck yes I did.” He took a step towards me, his body inches from my own now. My legs wobbled but I stood my ground, meeting his eyes defiantly. “For the last time,” he said, running his fingers through my hair, brushing a strand out of my eyes. “I was never going to touch her, sweetheart. I promise.”
I shrugged, feeling some of the anger leave me. He seemed so sincere. So determined to make me believe him. I didn't know why it even mattered to him, why did he care what I thought anyway? I replayed the painful scene in my mind, wondering if I could have got it wrong after all... I wasn't sure. If only I'd stayed quiet enough to watch it play out. I looked up to his face. My gut instinct told me he was telling the truth. That maybe I'd been wrong. Jumped to conclusions because I'd expected the worst from him. I gave a sigh. “Okay. Fine. If you say so. It doesn't matter anyway.” I looked over my shoulder then back to him. “It's late. I should go.”
“Not yet. Come back with me.”
“Where?”
“Just to the studio.”
I shook my head. “I don't want to. I'm not in the mood to see anyone.”
“There's nobody there. Jared's gone. Come.” He reached forward, cupping my chin with his big, warm hands. Tilting it up towards his face. “Please?” he added softly.
I sighed. “Fine.” I didn't know what made me agree. I should have run in the opposite direction as fast as I could go. But refusing would show him just how much I really cared. I couldn't let him see that. Not ever. Liam grinned and grabbed my hand, squeezing it in his, and despite my sadness, I felt that familiar electricity sizzle between us at the heat of his skin on mine. We walked in silence back to the studio, my eyes fixed on the path ahead, his gaze flicking to my face every few seconds. We reached the door and he slipped his hand out of mine, taking a long key from his pocket, opening the door for me to step inside. He followed me in, placing the key back in the lock, turning it again until it clicked, sealing us inside, alone. I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
“So,” he said placing a hand on the base of my spine and guiding me towards a low sofa in the reception area. He sat down beside me, turning his body to face mine, his knee bumping against my thigh. “You didn't get a chance to tell me what you were doing here?”
“Oh... no, I suppose I didn't.”
He stared at me, waiting. When I didn't offer an answer, he stood up. “Drink maybe?”
I nodded.
“Good.”
Two hours later, my mood had finally thawed out. It was hard to stay miserable with Liam for company, despite my best efforts. We'd been talking non stop, drinking warm red wine straight from the bottle, since he couldn't find any glasses, and after a while I had found myself laughing, staring into those dark, mischievous eyes, watching his full, soft lips as he spoke.
He was on the opposite end of the sofa from me, our legs intertwined in the middle, as he told me funny stories about his childhood, his move from Ireland to London. He and Kai had started their new life in England in a grotty flat in east London, barely more than a squat, he told me with a careless shrug as if it hadn't mattered to him. Through crazy hard work and determination, they had each managed to transform themselves into hugely successful business owners in the eight years they'd been here, but when Liam talked about his journey it was clear that the thing that mattered most to him wasn't all the perks of being well known or the fancy things he could buy with his millions, but the freedom he'd earned himself by making his own way. He was free of that life of poverty, and even though he smiled when he talked about it, it was clear to me that there were a lot of painful memories when it came to his childhood. I found it hard to believe that their mother had decided she'd just had enough of that life and walked out on them. Little boys with nothing, no doubt blaming themselves for her absence. I kind of hated her for it. I bet she'd get on wonderfully with my selfish excuse for a father.
Liam leaned forward to place the half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and I bit my lip. “What?” he asked, smiling.
I screwed up my face. “The reason I came here... will... will you tattoo me?”
“You want a tattoo?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. Will you do it?”
He stared at me for a long moment. I saw the ripple of his throat as he swallowed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Pick something.”
I reached into my handbag, pulling out a thin folder. Blushing a little, I flipped it open, holding the design out for him to see. “I want this.”
He scooted over to see, his body pressed hard against mine as he took the folder from my hands. It was different from my usual artwork, much more modern. I'd seen the gorgeous watercolour effect tattoos people were having lately and wanted to incorporate those bright rainbow colours into the design. Something bold and brave that went against what everyone would expect from me. But I'd wanted it to mean something too. I'd sat down with a drawing pad and a pencil and sketched for hours until I had exactly what I wanted, adding layers of colour until I got it perfect.
There was a woman, confident and fierce, her head thrown back as she looked up to the sky, her hands reaching out behind her like a ballerina, unafraid and uninhibited as she was doused in a kaleidoscope of rain. She faced the storm head on, with no intention of turning away from what she was experiencing.
To me, it was a symbol of freedom. It was a declaration that although I might sometimes come across as a quiet, pliable, sensible girl with no ideas of her own, inside I was something quite different. I was bursting with creativity and passion and excitement, full of life, and whenever I looked at this tattoo, I knew it would make me smile.
“Who designed this?” Liam asked, staring down at the drawing. “It's incredible.”
“I did,” I said softly.
“Really? You have a lot of talent.”
“It's mostly about having the right teachers. I had a great one in school. I did want to go to art school but...” I shrugged. “My mother had different plans fo
r me.”
“But you enjoy this... don't you?”
I nodded. “I love it. It makes me feel alive, like, oh, I don't know... energised. It makes me happy. Fulfilled, you know?”
“So why not pursue that?”
I shook my head. “Ah, it's too late now. I've had those arguments with my parents, and in the end it was just easier to compromise. Giving in meant that they supported me financially while I was setting up my business in interior design. It's a creative job, and I do like it so it's not all bad.”
“But you don't love it?”
“No. It's not the path I would have chosen. But my mum didn't want me to be a starving artist.”
He laughed. “You think she'd would have left you to starve if you'd put your foot down?” He held up my design. “You wouldn't have gone hungry long in any case. You should do this, Mia. Fuck spending your life doing something you don't want to do. Walk away and be an artist.”
“Quit interior design?”
“Yes, quit!”
I laughed. “Oh, as if it's that simple! I'm not going to walk away from everything I've worked for and start all over again. The client I just took on is everything I've been working towards for my whole career. She wants me to do her entire Knightsbridge house from scratch and if I do a good job, everyone will want to hire me. I'll be set for life.”
“Yeah, doing something that will always be second best. What's the point? Putting everything you have into something you don't love deep down? You have savings don't you? Quit. Follow your passion or you'll regret it.”
I leaned back against the sofa cushions, smiling despite myself. He really was a bad influence. “You'd do that would you?” I teased. “Give it all up? Walk away just like that?”
“I don't have to. I love what I do. I made sure of that before I put in the work to get where I am now. But yeah, if I found myself heading down the wrong path, I'd turn around and go back to the beginning if it meant getting it right.” I didn't doubt it. He was one of the most determined and hard working people I'd ever met, and somehow, despite his rough start, he still managed to seem fearless. I knew, if he woke up one day and found he'd changed his mind about his career path, he'd take the leap into the unknown to get to where he wanted to be. He was reckless like that. And brave.
I shrugged, ready to change the subject. “Are you going to tattoo me, or just keep talking about where I'm going wrong with my life?”
He pursed his lips, shaking his head slowly. “Are you sure? Really sure?”
I couldn't believe I was about to do this but I pushed myself off the sofa, ready as I would ever be. “Yes. Let's do this.”
Chapter Eighteen
Liam
“So, uh, where is it going?” I said, leading her into the cosy studio and pushing the door closed behind me. I flicked a few buttons on the stereo putting on some chilled out tunes, then wiped down the table. I didn't want Mia having to climb up there after Naomi the porn star, or pop star – whatever she even thought she was, had been sprawling all over it. Mia had finally said she believed me when I told her I wouldn't have touched the girl. The whole scene had happened so quickly, Mia storming out without so much as a word, Naomi lying there still expecting to fuck. She was literally out of her mind! Living in the world of celebrities, where she never heard the word no had completely fucked up her perception of what was reasonable behaviour in the real world. She'd been genuinely shocked when I'd turned her down. I hadn't had time to think it through, I just went full autopilot, getting Naomi out of there as fast as I could manage and tearing down the street after Mia. I didn't know why, but I had to explain. I had to make her believe that I wouldn't have done it.
It was crazy behaviour, tearing down the street after what was essentially a one night stand. After all, it wasn't as if we didn't have an understanding. And she'd been so cold the morning after our night in her bed. I doubted she even cared, more likely she was just embarrassed at having interrupted something. We'd agreed it would be one night between us and then back to the friendzone, but even so, I couldn't let her believe I would move on from her as easily as that, especially not with someone like Naomi. For some reason, it was really important to me that she knew I wouldn't do something like that. That I wasn't necessarily the player everyone seemed to think I was.
She'd accepted my story and agreed to come back, but even now I could feel a distance between us that hadn't been there before I stayed the night. Was it because we'd crossed that line and stretched the boundaries of our friendship as far as they could go? Or was it that she just didn't trust me not to hurt her? She was probably right not to.
My head was so fucking conflicted. I didn't want to be Kai. I had no interest in getting married, giving up the life I'd created, the freedom, the fun, the spontaneity. I loved my life. Yet lately, it all seemed pointless, boring even, when Mia wasn't there. When she walked into a club and I caught her eye across the room, I felt the energy change inside me. I felt excited. But how long could that last? These things always fizzled and died. Someone always got hurt. It was better not to start it in the first place.
“You mean the tattoo?” Mia asked, interrupting my thoughts as she jumped up on the table. “I want it here.” I watched as she slid her hand over the front of her left shoulder, coming a little way down her chest to just above her breast. Great. Of course she would want it there, where I'd have to try and remain the consummate professional and not lose my mind while touching the skin inches from the firm pink nipple I'd had between my teeth just twenty-four hours before.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. You'll have to take that off,” I said, gesturing to her top.
“What about the bra?” she asked, slipping her top over her head. I couldn't look. If I looked, I would lose control. I would have to rip that fucking bra off her and fuck her on the table. I gripped the bottle of ink in my palm and took a deep breath. Then slowly, I turned my head. She was half reclining on the table, her top half naked save for her turquoise lacy bra. And it was see through. I could see her hard little nipples poking through the fabric. She smiled. “Do I need to take it off too?”
“Uh,” My voice was thick and croaky. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You can probably just pull the strap down, yeah, that's right,” I said as she moved it slowly down her shoulder. I cleared my throat again. “That will be fine.” She sat quietly, watching me as I worked, preparing my tools. I kept my back to her, desperate not to see those beautiful breasts again, but knowing I was only delaying the inevitable. Finally, I dragged my stool over to her, ready to start. It was almost two a.m. but I'd never felt more awake in my life. I was buzzing with adrenaline at the thought of what I was about to do. Keeping my eyes trained on her shoulder, I transferred the design to her creamy skin and held up a mirror for her to see.
“Yes, that will be perfect,” she smiled.
There was nothing left to do but pick up the tattoo gun. My hand hovered an inch from her skin, unwilling to lower any further. I realised with a jolt of surprise what was holding me back. I was about to cause her pain, and the thought of it made me feel sick. I didn't want to do it. I'd tattooed thousands of people, and never had more than a passing empathy for their discomfort under the needle. But this was going to be hard to get through.
“What are you waiting for?” she smiled, her voice low and husky. “I'm not going to change my mind.”
I swallowed and nodded, meeting her eyes briefly. Then I lowered the needle to her skin. She hissed and I made myself keep going, though it was tearing my insides apart to know what I was doing to her. I tried to block out the thought that it was Mia on the table. Focus on the artwork, getting the lines perfect. She deserved the best tattoo I could give her and I wouldn't ruin it by shaking like a fucking apprentice. I worked silently for a little while, determined and single minded in getting it just right. As I continued the detail down towards the soft rise of her breast, she groaned, dragging me from my concentration. I lifted the needle, glanc
ing up to her face. She was biting her lip hard, her eyes screwed up tightly. She looked pale. “Does it hurt?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
“Yes!” she winced. “Yes it hurts... a lot!” She took a deep breath. “It feels like my skin is being set alight.” She shook her head. “I can't believe you put yourself through this more than once, you masochist.” She tried to smile but it was ruined by her pale, clammy complexion. “And here was me hoping to be brave. Go on, I can cope. No point stopping now.”
I shook my head. “I'm not sure I can do this.”
“You're a professional! This is what you do. I'm sure you've seen plenty of wimps like me before.”
“I know, but... ” I stopped, unsure how to explain. How could I make her understand that causing her pain made my skin crawl? That being the source of her discomfort was physically unbearable to me? “Maybe someone else should do it,” I said, meeting her eyes.
“No. It has to be you.” She flashed me a reassuring smile, her face lighting up. “Please, Liam. Honestly, I'll be fine. Carry on.”
I stared at the half finished tattoo, considering my options. “Okay,” I answered finally. “But I'm putting numbing cream on you.”
“That's cheating isn't it? I won't get the real experience if I chicken out.”
“Oh, you will. You'll still feel it, just not as bad.”
She started to argue but I placed my hand on her face and she stopped abruptly. “It will make it easier for me... to concentrate, I mean.” We stared at each other for what felt like minutes, neither one of us willing to back down. The pulsing energy between us was as strong as ever and it took all my willpower not to lower my face, seal the gap between us and kiss her until she begged for more. Maybe she could read the conflict in my eyes, because a blush spread across her cheeks and her gaze slid away from mine.
“Okay,” she conceded softly. “Put the cream on if you must.” She laid back, waiting, her eyes closed in a relaxed, tranquil state. Even through the latex gloves, rubbing the thick white cream into her skin was unbearable. My dick felt like it could smash through concrete I was so hard. I positioned myself so it was hidden beneath the stainless steel table, trying to think of anything other than the proximity of Mia's bare skin. Finished with applying the cream, I stole a glance at her face, her eyes still closed. She looked like some sort of angel, her thick eyelashes soft against her cheeks, her dark blonde hair spread out like a halo around her head. She was so beautiful. She opened her eyes, catching me looking at her and broke into a smile.
Damaged: Dare to Decide, Book 2 Page 10