Beauty Claimed

by Allyson Lindt

  “What would you have done if I said no?”

  The pit inside gnawed at her, and she fumbled for a response.

  “I wasn’t considering it, but I am curious.” Nathan’s addendum didn’t completely reassure her.

  Tell Nick I couldn’t see him anymore. That was the right answer. The one that should come without hesitation. She loved Nathan. She’d built a life with him that she adored. “I don’t know.”

  His smile wilted, but was back strong again so quickly she might have imagined the flicker. “That’s fair.”

  It was. Because unless he had a reason for specifically not wanting Nick around, she and Nathan would need to have a serious conversation about why he was changing his mind about the poly nature of their relationship.

  It wasn’t because he was anything like Marco. The abrupt comparison bothered her. It was reasonable for a couple to hit bumps and talk through them.

  She needed to remember that.

  TARA WAS FORCED FROM sleep by a loud pounding on the door. It was still dark outside. What the fuck?

  “What is that?” Nathan was half awake.

  “Someone really obnoxious.” A glance at the clock told her it was almost seven in the morning. She climbed from bed, shivering as her feet hit the floor, and grabbed her bathrobe. It was tempting to wait out whoever was visiting.

  But if it was Nick or the band, she needed to see what they wanted.

  Nathan yanked on sweats and a T-shirt, and accompanied her downstairs. He unlocked and opened the front door.

  Tara clenched her jaw when she saw Matilde on the other side. Tara stepped around Nathan. “May I help you?” she asked in Italian.

  Matilde handed her an envelope. “Due to the two acts of vandalism in the past month, in addition to previous warnings, the city council has revoked your license to do business here.” She looked smug.

  Fury surged inside Tara, mingling with frustration. “I own this building. You can’t kick me out.”

  “No, and we’re not. However, you’re no longer allowed to operate your tattoo parlor out of this location.”

  “I’m not the one who vandalized the building.” Tara didn’t want to have this argument rationally. She wanted to scream and stomp her feet and throw things. None of that would help her case, but since discussion probably wouldn’t either, she was tempted.

  Matilde’s smile grew. “It’s true, you probably didn’t. However, the incidents were aimed at you, so if someone else were doing business here, it wouldn’t have happened. That makes it your fault.”

  It’s not my fault! The protest screamed in Tara’s head. “Expect to hear from my lawyer within the next few hours.”

  “That’s fine. It won’t make a difference. Your family’s name can’t save you from this decision. Effective immediately, your business is no longer allowed to operate out of this location.” Matilde gave a curt nod, then turned and left.

  Tara slammed the door shut behind her.

  “What’s going on?” Nathan asked.

  “FUCK!” Tara screamed at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t sure what language it was in, but it felt good. “Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. Also, fuck the entire city council.”

  She tossed the unopened letter on the reception desk. “They shut us down.” Even if she had another place to go this afternoon, this meant they couldn’t film for a few days. They’d have to cancel all of their appointments until further notice. The city council wouldn’t approve her opening anything nearby.

  She didn’t want to lose her business. Her hard work. Her identity.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  NICK COULD HANDLE UNCERTAINTY, but this was a whole new level of worry for him. He sat across from Antonio, lawyer approved contracts at the ready, and tried to gauge what the other man’s silence meant.

  Antonio rocked a pen between his first two fingers, and deep lines cut through his forehead.

  “You have other concerns.” Nick wasn’t going to suggest what those might be, but he wouldn’t sit through a meeting full of non-momentum either. There were two contracts, one for Bianchi International to act as an international distributor, and the other to form a more integrated series of collaborations between the two organizations.

  Nick wasn’t only anxious because of his cash-flow issues—he truly wanted this partnership to work—but the money was an extra juicy carrot.

  “Almost everything looks great.” Antonio finally spoke.

  That almost was what Nick had both expected and dreaded. “What concerns can I alleviate?”

  “You’ve overextending yourself financially.”

  That was a kind way to put it. “I can address that. We hired big to fulfill the Rinslet contract, and a few others that have since fallen through. It was less expensive to keep the extra staff on than to let them go.” He knew these lines by heart. He’d been repeating them for a couple of months, followed by it will be better soon, though.

  “I’m not going to be your bank.” Antonio’s tone never shifted.

  “Of course not. I’m here because I see huge potential in what our organizations can do together. The money will be nice, but it’s not needed to be solvent.” Not really. Or maybe just a smidge. “We have several new clients who have signed recently, and I’m solvent. You’ve had access to my personal finances.”

  “I do, and I understand. If a tech startup doesn’t hit this bump, I wonder who they sold their soul to. I know what it’s like to pursue a dream and have the cashflow dry up. I’d sign right now if it didn’t put my own business at risk.”

  This wasn’t falling apart. It couldn't be. Nick couldn’t lose this reason to be in Italy.

  Not the right place for his mind to go right now. He was looking at a huge opportunity for his company, and he was worried about how he’d spend more time with Tara and Nathan? “What would you like to see as next steps?”

  “We’re going to license the tech from you. That’s a done deal. The join development... I’m putting a hold on that for a few months.”

  Nick could work with that. It was cash flow. It was an agreement. It wasn’t what he hoped for, but it meant not hiring more employees. It also gave him a reason to spend more time here. That sent a rush of excitement through him that he couldn’t ignore.

  He hid the reaction. “I understand. I need something more concrete that's a few months, though. I have timelines and staffing to work around.”

  “That’s fair. Three months, and then we’ll re-evaluate. Either we’ll move forward with the joint development, we’ll take the option off the table, or we’ll put another deadline in place.”

  Nick cleared his throat. “That’s not technically concrete.”

  “It’s the best I can do.”

  Nick didn’t have another argument. “I understand. Let’s move forward with the licensing.”

  They wrapped up the meeting. While it wasn't the outcome Nick hoped for, it was still a reason to celebrate. Or two of them. Excitement thrummed in his veins. He hadn't been this kind of hopeful in a while, and it felt good.

  “When are you heading back to the States,” Antonio asked.

  “Hadn’t decided yet.” The reminder that he needed to leave Tara and Nathan for even a little while put a damper on his mood. How was he already attached?

  It wasn’t as though he was ready to sell everything and move here. He wouldn’t mind a little more in-person time to figure it out. Wait. He wasn’t actually considering the moving thing... was he?

  “Fair warning.” A hint of emotion crept into Antonio’s voice that had been absent the entire meeting. “Fucking my sister doesn’t change my mind about any of this, one way or the other.”

  “Excuse me?” Nick choked on the retort. He should spit out a denial, but he couldn’t grasp it. Had Tara been talking about their relationship? That was an issue. Wasn’t it?

  Yes. Not because Nick was embarrassed by it, but discretion was important unless all parties agreed otherwise.

  “This isn’t appr
opriate business conversation, I realize,” Antonio said. “But ours is a family business, and Tara’s family. None of this gets your foot in the door, or gets you kicked out on your ass. It does make holiday dinners awkward.”

  “If I had a relationship like that with Tara, it wouldn’t be because I hoped it would influence you. That wouldn’t be my expectation, hope, or fear.” Well, it was a minor fear.

  Antonio smiled and shook his head. “Well stated. Always the salesman.” He stood, and Nick did the same, shaking his hand. “We’ll talk soon.”

  Nick wrapped things up and headed back to the hotel. He should be floating on a cloud—a small one, but one with a brilliant silver lining—over this contract. Instead, his head was stuck on Tara. If he went back home with things the way they were now, whatever he had with her was just sex.

  Wasn’t it?

  He needed to see her. He changed course and headed to the tattoo shop. The three of them could celebrate the ink being dry on the paper. And discuss if there was any future once they were in different countries again.

  Nick reached Tara’s building. Closed sign hung on the front door. That wasn’t too odd, since the front window still hadn’t been replaced. The smaller note underneath was in both Italian and English. The bit he could read said This location is no longer in operation. We apologize for the inconvenience. If you have any questions, call us.

  Concern scraped through him, and he dialed Tara.

  When she didn’t answer, his worry cranked up several notches. He dialed Nathan instead.

  “Hey.” Nathan’s greeting was sharp. “Now’s not a great time.”

  Nick definitely didn’t like this. “I’m downstairs. What’s wrong?”

  “We’re not there. We’re across town looking at shops... Hang on.”

  Nick cast a gaze around the street as he listened to Nathan’s muffled voice. What was going on?

  “Are you free?” Nathan asked.

  “Yeah. Absolutely. Where can I find you?” There was no reason to mention he was here to celebrate. He had the feeling there were more serious things going on.

  “Write this address down, then grab a taxi. We’ll fill you in when you get here.”

  Concern spilled through Nick. “Are you both all right?” He needed to know that.

  “Yes. I mean, Tara’s pissed as hell, and I don’t blame her, but no one’s hurt.”

  That was enough to hold Nick over, but not for long. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  NATHAN PUT HIS PHONE in his pocket, and gave his full attention to Tara again. “Nick will be here in a little bit.”

  “Thank you.” She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her. “Is it cold in here? How is no one else cold? Could we ask them to turn up the heat?”

  “I can talk to management about the temp if you want. Do you want more tea?” He was worried about her. The news about the tattoo parlor was bad enough, but they were seated in a cafe, because she’d felt nauseated and needed to take a break. “Or, we can call it a day, if you’re not feeling well.”

  “I’m not sick, it’s stress.” There was a bite in her voice.

  He understood stress. “We’ll find a new place. We have so many options.” He hated to rely on her pocketbook, but in money not being an issue was a relief.

  “I know. I just... That’s my place. I made it. It’s not fair.” Her chin quivered.

  He was more worried about the abrupt onset of tears than correcting my to our. He scooted his chair closer, and pulled her half into his arms. “We’ll handle this. I promise.”

  “We will. I don’t know why I’m so moody today.”

  “Because it’s been a super stressful week and you’re dealing with the weight of the world? Even you hadn’t had everything dumped on you in just a few days, you’re allowed to be stressed and upset.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. It was awkward since she was still in her chair, but he didn’t care.

  “Thank you. Again.” Her voice was soft. “I’m glad I have you, this one, wonderful constant in my life.”

  “I’m always here for you.” He kissed her on the forehead. A nagging pinged inside, and he couldn’t place it.

  “Nick probably stopped by to celebrate.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Antonio told me he was signing the licensing deal.” Tara snuggled closer, lingered for a few seconds, and then straightened to sit in her own chair.

  On the other side of the dining room, a mother struggled to keep two young children from dumping cream and sugar all over their table. One of the toddlers screamed in protest when Mom took the salt shaker from her.

  Nathan rolled his eyes. Kids. Families. Not a pleasant topic. Then again, nothing today was. “Celebrating can wait. You’re in mourning. Nick will feel the same way.”

  “Why are you in mourning?” Nick’s question startled Nathan. Where did he come from? “Are you all right? Did someone pass away?”

  “Our tattoo parlor,” Tara said sadly. “It’s gone and dead.”

  That was a bit melodramatic. But was it really?

  Nick pulled out a chair and joined them. A frown was etched on his face. “I saw the Closed sign. What happened?” Sympathy filled his voice.

  “The city council revoked our business license.” Nathan told him.

  “They can’t—”

  “They can.” Nathan nodded. “We’ve been over and over this, I promise you. They can.”

  “It’s why we’re out. We’re hoping to find something sooner rather than later.” Tara’s stress was still there, but it was tucked away under a mask. Not as severe as when she was around family or at charity functions, but Nathan recognized her blocking off her emotion.

  But there wasn’t even a trickle of smugness that she was more comfortable breaking down around Nathan than she was with Nick.

  “What can I do to help?” Nick’s offer was expected, but there really wasn’t anything.

  Tara sipped her tea, then made a face. “Cold.” She pushed the cup aside. “You wanted to celebrate. We can start here, they make an amazing American-style pizza.”

  “Celebrating can wait.” Nick looked at Nathan. “I haven’t actually had anything here yet that claims to be American-style. Is it authentic?”

  Nathan snorted. “I’m from Chicago. It’s not even close. But I think that makes it more authentic to its ancestor?” How did that work, anyway? “Regardless, it’s pretty good.”

  “We’ll call it commiseration food instead of celebration.” Nick waved a waiter over.

  “I’d rather not dwell on the past few days.” Tara’s voice was quiet. “I want to do something joyous.”

  “What can I get y’all?” The waiter’s accent was an America southern drawl on top of Italian.

  Nathan was used to varying degrees of the same here. It was one of his and Tara’s favorite places. He glanced at Nick. “You have any preferences? Or rather, is there anything you won’t eat on a pizza?”

  “Pineapple.”

  Nathan raised his brows in mock offense. “Blasphemy.”

  “People eat pineapple on pizza?” Tara looked between them. “I thought you and Antonio made that up.”

  Nathan gave an exaggerated sigh, feigning disappointment. “I only wish that were true.” He looked at the waiter. “Meat lovers. Large. And three bottles of Asahi.”

  The waiter nodded, and left.

  Nick was frowning, but a smile lurked underneath.

  “What’s wrong?” Nathan asked.

  “I kind of feel like the guy who travels halfway around the world to eat at McDonald’s. With Japanese beer.”

  “This is nothing like what you’ll get in the US.” Nathan assured him.

  “We should go to Sicily.” Tara’s voice was bright, and the announcement abrupt.

  “What?” Nick asked at the same time Nathan did.

  Her sadness had faded, and her eyes were bright. “There’s an amazing place there with shops from around th
e world. Food. Souvenirs. One of my favorite places. You need to see it before you go back home.” Her happiness flickered on the last words, but her smile returned again quickly. “Unless you have to work.”

  Then we’ll go without him. The words stuck in Nathan’s throat. That wouldn’t go over well.

  Nick waved a hand. “I don’t work all day non-stop. I can put in my eight hours around whatever we have planned. That is, if you’re serious. I’d love to see more of the country.”

  Before I go. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

  Tara turned a hopeful gaze on Nathan.

  As if he was going to tell her no? “I’m in. Always.”

  The waiter returned with their drinks and a basket of bread sticks. Nick picked one up and snapped it in half. “I’ve never had crunchy with pizza before.”

  “Told you it was different.” Nathan nibbled on one. He was relieved to see Tara do the same. Hopefully her nausea had passed.

  Nick joined in as well. “How do we get to Sicily?”

  “We’ll take the train. Stop in Rome halfway there. Live stream from the road. Show off some tattoo-inspiring art. Historical sites we can translate into drawings.” As Tara spoke, the words tumbled out faster, and she grew more animated. “We’ll sketch for the camera. Show the world new sites. Have fun. Keep the show on the air...”

  Nathan was relieved to see her thinking through this with solutions that made her happen. “When should we go?”

  “Tonight.” Tara tugged on her ponytail. “We’ll film a short segment letting people know what’s going on, and we’ll pick another stop along the way. Someplace to sleep this evening.”

  Nick was all smiles. “Sounds fantastic. While you do that, I can pack and check out of my hotel. So I can...”

  “What?” Tara asked.

  But Nathan knew.

  “Fly out of Sicily when we’re done, and head back home.” Nick’s enthusiasm faded.