3. Three
Three
Rosie
“ F uck... what day is it?”
He looks down at me with a regretful expression on his face. This is weird because I should be the one regretting my choices right now.
I’m uncertain if the question is rhetorical or if he genuinely expects an answer.
“W-Wednesday or Thursday,” I stutter.
I don’t know this man, and from what I can see, I have no desire to get to know him. As he stands half naked, his body becomes a living art gallery, showcasing a myriad of tattoos that cover most of his skin.
Normally, I wouldn’t back down from any man, but in my half-asleep state, I can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability in this unfamiliar but supposedly safe place.
I’m going to murder Gage.
He looks me up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth, and that’s when I feel it .
The air hits my legs and exposed ass.
Shit.
I hurriedly yank down my short shirt, which barely extends an inch farther. I can’t help but feel both embarrassed and confused as I lock eyes with the man standing in front of me.
“What the hell, Vic!” A shrill shriek pierces through the air, prompting me to swiftly turn around. There, in the bed, I see a naked woman who doesn’t even bother to hide under the blankets I’m supposed to sleep in. “Who is she?”
He ignores her question and looks back at me. “Rosalinda?”
“Yeah,” I say, wondering why it’s a question. Is it common for him to have unfamiliar women sleeping in his bed without his knowledge? “And I go by Rosie.” I hate my full name. The only time it’s ever used is when my father yells at me about some invisible line I’ve crossed.
“You’re supposed to be in the main house, Rosie.”
“You’ll be sleeping in here, then?” I ask with a tight smile. If the guy wants to give me access to a full house while he sleeps here, who am I to argue with such a generous offer?
“Absolutely not. I’ll have the room next to yours.”
My smile vanishes.
“Are you serious?” the naked woman shrieks. Despite the squeaking, high-pitched tone coming from behind us, neither of us acknowledges the other person in the room. I’m not sure why he doesn’t, but I happen to be mortified by all of this.
“Lovely,” I say as I spin around to pick up my bag and jeans from where I left them on the floor by the bed, purposely avoiding eye contact with the woman on the bed.
“Yeah, lovely,” he whispers as he gazes into my eyes .
My face contorts with disgust, and my cheeks burn with humiliation as he gawks at me while a naked woman lounges on his bed. Men can be such pigs.
Once I make it out to the living room, I hastily pull on my jeans. Enough people have seen my exposed skin tonight. I don’t want to give the neighbors a show.
Sensing a burning sensation at my back, I spin around.
My green eyes collide with his caramel-colored ones as he leans against the doorframe. His relaxed posture is evident as he leisurely slides his inked hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. Yet his underlying tension is apparent in the sharp definition of his clenched jawline that’s covered by a touch of dark stubble.
He smirks at me as he senses me appraising him.
I feel a prickling sensation against my skin, causing goose bumps to rise along my spine as we have a stare down. What the hell is happening to me?
I angrily extend my middle finger toward him, slam the front door, and head to the main house.
As I wander around the house the following morning, I can’t help but stifle a yawn. Judging by the enormous bags under my eyes, it’s clear I barely slept for maybe two hours after the bizarre encounter with Vic and the naked woman.
My frazzled nerves had me on edge .
I recall seeing a gym on my quest to find my room last night, but now I can’t remember where it is.
Faint music drifts from an open door down the hall, so I follow it.
The sight of exercise equipment neatly arranged in the room catches my eye. The room is spacious, with a large mirror that spans the entire wall and even a sauna off to one corner.
I was excited to come in and take advantage of the space. During my time at college, the girls’ dorm housed a small and overcrowded gym where camera shutters clicking was more common than weights clinking.
My joy is momentarily suspended as I watch the devil from last night effortlessly doing pull-ups.
He should be proud of his impressive physique. I’ll give him that.
His back muscles flex and undulate as he moves up and down effortlessly. A prominent gray and black skull tattoo adorns his back, spanning from one shoulder to the other. It looks ominous, with demons swirling in the midnight orbs of the skull’s eye sockets. The blood-orange ember eyes practically glow. What would make someone want to get something so dark and disturbing?
My eyes continue to explore the plethora of tattoos that cover his body. On the back of his right calf, an eagle with its talons ready to strike perches, while on the other calf, an angel and devil appear to be engaged in a lively dance. I strain my eyes to absorb every intricate detail of the stunning artwork.
“You’re more than welcome to come in and work out something more than just your eyes,” Vic says as he jumps down and faces me with a smirk .
He caught me looking at him. How unfortunate and embarrassing.
“Funny,” I say with a sarcastic tone, rolling my eyes to emphasize my indifference, even though I’m mortified.
As I stretch on the black mat, my stiff muscles protest with every movement, screaming at me in discomfort. The pool would have been a better choice overall, especially once Vic works out on the bench press.
I find it impossible to tear my gaze away from him as he firmly grips the bar, his back arched with a noticeable bulge outlined on the crotch of his dark gray gym shorts.
I look down at the mat quickly. What in the hell am I doing?
I’m going to chalk my fascination with him this morning up to lack of sleep, never being around a man by myself, and a nonexistent sex life. At some point, I’m bound to cave when I see a fine man in front of me, right? It doesn’t mean I like him. I just enjoy the view.
He seems to be a mess. Well, at least last night, from his disoriented state of me being in his house. Surely, Gage told him. Then there’s the girl he threw on the bed. I assume his guesthouse is for hookups, which makes me want to jump in a pool of bleach. The bed I slept in is probably an STD cesspool.
The question is, why have a beautiful family home if you don’t have a family?
“Well, who do we have here?”
I glance up at a man grinning down at me who would be attractive if not for the visible hickeys dotting his neck and the overpowering smell of alcohol emanating from his pores. Gross .
With his dirty-blond hair casually tied up in a messy man bun and sporting sunglasses inside, he looks like he had a really tough night.
“Gage’s sister. Hands off.” Vic’s gruff voice fills the room as he speaks between reps.
I notice the new guy wince and give me a wide berth as he makes his way into the room.
Ugh.
This repetitive cycle has been the soundtrack of my life for as long as I can remember. I attract attention solely from men who belong to powerful families and possess a deranged mindset. The guys I’ve liked lose interest as soon as they uncover my true identity and my family’s notorious reputation. Needless to say, dating has been filled with disappointment and frustration.
I’ve had one boyfriend who lasted five seconds, and that was in middle school. Poor Cody only got half a dance in at the winter formal before my brother, Marco, punched him in the face for touching me. Blood sprayed everywhere. Both my pretty pink dress and my social life were ruined. It was awful. Since then, I’ve decided to save future Codys from my family’s wrath.
In my countless daydreams about running away, I often envisioned becoming a ghost, stumbling upon a charming, remote town where I’d escape the demands of my current life. I’d open an art studio, a place where I could share my passion for art through teaching and hosting exhibits. Maybe even find a tall, dark, and handsome type of guy who makes me laugh and takes me out on epic dates. It seems that won’t be happening here, or anytime soon. Thanks, Gage .
Midway through my downward dog stretch, a sudden weighty presence hovers above me. I move into a triangle pose like I don’t feel shit and tilt my head upward to make eye contact with Vic.
“Can I help you?”
“We have work in an hour.”
Sweat glistens on his abs in the light, captivating my attention and causing me to lose focus.
Did he say we have work?
“We?” I say, pointing between us.
“Be ready in forty minutes.”
“What will we be doing? I’ve never worked before.”
The thought of a job makes me giddy. Under my father’s roof, getting a job was out of the question, and it’s one of the many things I’m eager to cross off my list while I’m here.
He brushes past me without acknowledging my question, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.
“What a dick.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that.” The mystery guy chuckles from the treadmill as he runs.
Did I just say that out loud?
“I’m Axl, by the way,” he says as he pulls off his sunglasses and squints.
“Rosie,” I say with a small smile. “Electrolytes and toast.” Those seemed to be the go-to for everyone at my college.
“What?”
“For that gnarly hangover. Maybe a shower, too.”
“Thanks... I think.”
“Anytime.”
What world did I wake up in?
Vic drives us to work, the only sound being the hum of the engine. I’m completely unfazed by his lack of communication and brooding presence. It’s better than the piercing gaze he gave me last night or his playful comment this morning.
I plan on treating this as a business transaction, determined to convince him to release the reins and let me roam freely. Maybe I’ll even take over his guesthouse—after I disinfect it, of course.
The road during last night’s drive with Gage was shrouded in darkness, with only the faint glow of the moon illuminating it. In the daylight, I can admire the picturesque view of Lake Michigan on our right as we head down Main Street.
Vic takes a left, and we end up in the town square, as the sign says.
This downtown area is adorable, with cobblestone walkways and sugar maple trees showcasing a breathtaking display of neon red, orange, and yellow leaves. Cozy seating areas are scattered throughout, and a stunning fountain stands at its heart.
I imagined ending up in this type of town, with colorful storefronts lining the streets around the square, each offering a unique small-business experience. Above each door, business signs with store names sway on chains, dancing in the gentle morning breeze .
We pass a restaurant, coffee shop, flower shop, clothing boutique, dog groomers, used bookstore, salon and spa, and a tattoo parlor, among others that line the square.
I wonder if there’s an art studio with classes available?
Vic parks his truck in front of the tattoo shop with a sage-green sign that reads Alchemy Ink in an Old English font.
“We need to lay out a couple of ground rules,” he says as I reach for the door handle.
I sigh. “Gage already talked to me. I won’t run.”
“No, you won’t,” he says as he looks out the front windshield. “But there’s more.”
“Why am I not surprised?” This is just another clip to my wings, but it won’t be forever. It can’t be.
“You’ll only leave somewhere by asking me first and getting my blessing.”
“Blessing?” I ask, angling my body more toward him. “That sounds a lot like getting your permission.”
“Exactly,” he says with a smirk. “You’ll also share your location with me once you get your new phone.”
“That’s invasive if I’m already telling you where I’m going.”
“Call it what you want. It is what it is. You will only sleep in your room, nowhere else.”
“Why would I sleep anywhere else?”
“Can you let me finish my fucking rules, or are you going to comment on every single one?”
I stay silent.
“No guys.”
“That’s a ridiculous rule and none of your business.”
“It is my business. No guys.”
“And what if I’m already seeing someone? ”
A scowl forms on his face as his eyes scrunch up. “Are you?”
“What’s your next rule?” I blow off his question.
“Are you seeing someone?” he repeats.
“That’s not a rule.”
“And that’s not an answer.”
“Are we done now?” I ask as I open the door.
“For now.”
As I step into the tattoo shop, my eyes are irresistibly drawn to the sleek black walls, rich brown hardwood floors, and luxurious dark green velvet curtains, which create an upscale and elegant aesthetic.
The waiting area has two light-brown leather couches and the most unconventional coffee table I’ve ever seen. The table’s base is a nude woman, lying on her back with her legs bent, knees to the heavens, appearing as though she’s in the midst of the greatest orgasm of her life.
I avert my gaze quickly from the coffee table before I get caught staring and looking curious, or worse, envious.
As I walk in further, I see a wall off to the far right full of art—mostly surrealist paintings in ornate frames. So many themes, colors, and sizes that you would expect them to clash, but they surprisingly work.
I get lost in the colors and strokes. The talent.
Some of these paintings are truly bizarre and dreamlike. I’m intrigued.
They even remind me of some that Rush used to send, which brings a sad smile to my face. I miss him so much.
It’s been so long since I’ve had the urge to draw, or paint, or do anything artistic, period. Ever since Rush stopped writing, my motivation has vanished like a flickering flame .
Lost in my thoughts, I jump and let out a startled shriek as a hand touches my arm.
“Shit, didn’t mean to scare you,” Vic says, with wide eyes, holding up those long tattooed fingers. Even his palms have tattoos, which I’ve read hurts like a bitch.
“No worries. I was just admiring these.”
“You like them?” he asks, sounding guarded.
I look back and gesture at them. “They’re beautiful, chaotic, and all so unique. All completely different but complement each other so well,” I say honestly, keeping my eyes forward on the paintings even though I feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.
“Uh, thanks,” Vic says.
“Wait, this is your work?”
“Yeah, some are from my younger years, like this.” He points at a painting of a headshot, but the face is distorted and appears to be melting off. “It’s been years since I’ve painted.”
Now I’m surprised. Until now, I didn’t even know what he did for a living.
I guess I can consider this the one and only thing we have in common.
Art.
“What made you stop? You obviously have talent.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just give me a compliment, Princess?”
“Do not call me that.”
“Whatever you say,” he says with a grin.
“So, this is how Gage met you? You’re his tattoo artist?”
“Yeah, I’m his tattoo artist. ”
My mind reels at the thought of Gage being released from prison, finding a stranger to tattoo him, then leaving me alone with said stranger, who he hardly knows.
Again, I’m going to kill Gage.
I place my hand on my hip. “So what am I going to be doing?”
“You can start by getting us coffee and breakfast sandwiches.” He pulls money out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Here. There’s a coffee shop about six doors to the right of us, Sweet Escape.”
I stand there, my eyes fixed on his outstretched hand, filled with crumpled bills. If he thinks I’ll be his subservient assistant, he’s in for a rude awakening.
But maybe he has to gather his supplies and set up his workspace? I wouldn’t know since I’ve never been in a tattoo shop.
I’ve always wanted to get one, though. My father would’ve had a coronary if I came home with one. He’d probably cut it out of my skin with a knife as a punishment.
His voice rings in my head. Your body is a temple, and you must preserve its purity.
What a joke.
I shift my gaze from his hand, covered in tattoos, to the elaborate artwork stretching across his arms and neck. My thoughts about tattoos differ from my father’s.
My body is a blank canvas. I want to adorn it with stunning artwork, and I plan on doing just that while I’m here.
The look on his face catches my attention, especially his raised eyebrow. I rip the money out of his hand. “Coming right up.”
The coffee shop was bustling for such a small town. Usually, it would drive me a little crazy to stand in line for so long, but I understand its allure. I’m halfway through my breakfast sandwich and wish I had more. It’s incredibly delicious.
“Where’s mine?”
I look up at Vic with a tight smile. “In the bag.”
He reaches into the bag and pulls out a blueberry muffin, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“What the fuck is this?”
“A blueberry muffin.”
“Yeah, I got that. Where’s my breakfast sandwich?”
“They must’ve put that in there by mistake.” I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders as I savor another mouthful of the breakfast sandwich intended for him.
The muffin was originally mine, but the irresistible aroma of sausage, egg, and cheese on a freshly baked English muffin lured me in. I couldn’t help myself.
Before I can even swallow my bite, he invades my personal space. His firm chest presses against mine while his hand wraps around my wrist.
My confusion grows when I look up at him. His heated gaze holds mine, and his expression is one I can’t decipher.
With a firm grip, he tugs the sandwich in my hand toward his mouth.
I try to resist his pull. It’s pathetic how my arm moves so easily, as if I have no control over my body and he’s the one pulling the strings.
Shocked, I drop my mouth open as he devours the last bite of the sandwich and part of my fingers.
The bewildering sensation of his lips enclosing my thumb and forefinger causes me to retract my hand and my stomach to flutter, much to my dismay .
The warmth and softness of his lips against my skin is a thought I shouldn’t entertain.
“Gross.” I wipe my wet fingers on my pants.
“Delicious.” With a sly smile, he licks his lips and walks away, leaving me with his woodsy scent and my fingers tingling where his mouth just was.
“Hey, wait. What am I supposed to do all day?”
The bastard says nothing as he walks to his client and starts tattooing. He’s good at blowing my questions off, and it’s driving me insane.
When noon approaches, hunger and irritation consume me. I’ve sat on this stool all day. I observed the sky’s transformation from the gentle glow of the morning sun to the bright intensity of the early afternoon sun without a single job.
If he assumes I’m just here to cater to his needs, serving him meals and beverages and nothing more, he’s mistaken. I’ll get a server job if that’s the case.
As I stroll back to Sweet Escape, I take my time to glance through the other shop windows. The town lacks an art studio.
“Hi, what can I get you?” My eyes wander to a girl who looks to be around my age behind the counter. Her light auburn locks frame her face, and her oversized glasses highlight her mesmerizing gray eyes. Her hair is haphazardly pulled back into a bun, and her apron is dusted with flour. She must be the one making the delicious food here.
“Hi, can I get another one of your breakfast sandwiches, and... shit, what did he say he wanted?” I say as I look at the menu as if that will help.
“Sorry, I forgot what he wanted. I have to go back to the tattoo shop and ask him. Lucky me. ”
“Vic, Samuel, or Richard?” she asks.
“Vic.”
“I got you,” she says as she punches something into her computer.
“Thanks. You’re saving me,” I say with a smile. I’ve been complaining nonstop about how mindless this job is all morning, but if I admit I forgot his order, I’m sure he’ll give me shit and never give me anything to do. “Oh, what’s my total?”
“I’ll put it on Vic’s tab.” She shoos away the money in my hand. I place it back in my pocket and consider it the tip for my services. “In that case, I’ll also take a chocolate chip cookie and a bag of baked chips.”
While waiting for my order, I finally have a chance to take in the sights of the shop. The walls are a shade slightly lighter than canary yellow, immersing the room in a serene but cheerful atmosphere. A stunning flower and rose arch gracefully hangs above the register, showcasing various shades of yellow. The flooring features a captivating damask print, blending the hues of baby pink, yellow, and teal. An abundance of pillows adorn the cozy couches, inviting comfort and encouraging engaging conversations. The sound of the grinder and the hiss of the espresso machine blend with the murmur of patrons enjoying their day. Sweet Escape truly lives up to its name and reminds me of sunshine and sunflowers.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I say as I grab the bag of food.
“I put food in there for Samuel too, but Richard gets nothing.”
“I haven’t met a Richard yet.”
“Richard is Axl’s first name, but don’t you dare let him know I called him anything but Richard. ”
A huge smile graces my lips as I think about my encounter with Axl this morning. The hickeys and the alcohol practically dripping from his pores.
“Ex-girlfriend?”
“Something like that.” She scrunches her nose. “What are you doing over there? I saw you grabbing breakfast here this morning.”
“I’d say I’m Vic’s assistant, but I feel more like his servant.”
“Quit.” She shrugs as if it’s nothing.
“I kind of need a job.”
“I’ll hire you.”
“But you don’t even know me. I’ve never had a job.”
“Are you a murderer or a kleptomaniac?”
“Uh...no?”
“Are you asking or telling?” She quirks her brow.
“Telling. Sorry, that question threw me off.” I laugh.
“I’m just messing with you, girl. Can you be on time?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re hired. Angie just went back to school last week, and I could use an extra set of hands for the morning rush. Besides, everyone has to start somewhere, and being someone’s servant isn’t it.”
Right away, I find myself liking her. “I’m Rosie, by the way.”
“I’m Jess.”
“Will the boss be okay with me working here?”
“You’re looking at her.”
Returning to the tattoo shop, I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement bubbling inside me.
I look for Vic, but he isn’t at his tattoo station, so he must be in his office. The thought of knocking on the closed door crosses my mind, but I dismiss it when I recall how he saw no problem with putting his lips around my fingers earlier. After thinking about it one too many times while I was perched on the stool all day, I know it was intentional. Why? I have no idea, but it was.
As I enter the room, I notice Vic and Axl conversing in low voices. I make my presence known by placing the bag on Vic’s desk with a deliberate thump.
“Thanks. You can go back out there,” Vic murmurs without looking up at me.
“Actually,” I say, a smile playing on my lips as I reveal the folded paper from my back pocket. “Here.” I toss it onto his desk.
“What the fuck is this?” he says to himself while meticulously smoothing out the creases in the paper.
“My resignation. I quit.”
“You can’t do that.”
“And you can’t hire someone against their will.”
“Damn, Vic. She has you there,” Axl says with a laugh.
I gaze over at Axl, and I notice the anticipation on his face as he rummages through the bag for his lunch. “Also, Jess says she only made food for Vic and Samuel. She said Richard can go get his food somewhere else.”
Axl’s fingers curl tightly around the bag, his eyes boring into mine with a menacing glare.
“I’ll be back,” he says with a hint of determination.
I don’t know what he’s done to upset someone as kindhearted as my new boss, Jess, but it must have been severe for her to continue catering to Vic the Dick, as I now call him in my head. As for Samuel, Vic’s apprentice, I can’t comment on him since he hasn’t arrived yet .
As I search through the bag for my food, the scorching intensity of Vic’s stare lingers in the air.
“No.”
“What?” I look up at him.
“You heard me.”
I shrug. “I guess I was waiting for you to reconsider.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“What are you getting out of this?” I say as I gesture back and forth between him and me.
“Right now, a massive fucking headache.”
“Whatever my brother paid, I’ll double it. I just want to live my life here without a babysitter breathing down my neck. I want to be free to make my own decisions.”
“Triple.”
My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
Vic stays quiet but smirks. He’s going to tax me because he knows I’m desperate. Which is something I would never show to anyone, but I am desperate.
Really fucking desperate, and I don’t know how to make it happen because I’ve never been on my own.
He really is the devil.
“Fine, triple. This will be between you and me only. Do we have a deal?” I extend my hand, but he just looks at it.
“No.”
My heart sinks.
“What do you mean, no?”
“You think I’m going against your brother, who’s not only one of my best friends but also the next boss in line to the Chicago Mafia? ”
There it is. His motivation stems from loyalty. Good for Gage. A desire for future favors, I’m sure, maybe even wealth that can be easy to get from someone like my brother. I’m outmatched when competing with those.
There’s only one hand left for me to play. I’m backed into a corner and left with no choice.
“Well, then I guess I’ll tell my brother in the past twenty-four hours we’ve been half naked in a room together with my fingers in your mouth.”