Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Liana
One week before I'm meant to marry a man I've never met, Frankie's voice breaks the silence at breakfast. This is the first time I’ve even seen him in here while I’ve been eating food. Usually my meals inside are filled with quiet boredom while I chew and stare at the walls.
"Get dressed. We're taking a quick day trip to Prescott."
I look up from my untouched eggs, suspiciously.
"A trip? Why?"
"I have business there," he says with a shrug, but there's something else in his eyes. "Thought you might want to get out of the house."
“Day trip,” I murmur to myself as I ponder what he said.
“Yeah,” he says, breaking me from my thoughts. “Last time I took you out at night, you ended up drunk.”
I scowl at him which only makes him laugh.
An hour later, we're winding through rocky mountain roads. The landscape slowly transforms with every mile. Red rocks turn into towering pines, the air growing cooler as we climb higher. I press my face against the window like a child, drinking in every detail. Before I know it, the windows are rolled down and I’m relishing in the beautiful crisp air.
"It's beautiful," I murmur. "So different from Italy but still beautiful."
"Different beautiful," Frankie says, repeating me, his voice softer than usual. "Not better or worse."
Is he asking me a question or making a statement? I steal a glance at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the white flower tattoo on full display above his collar. He seems more relaxed today, his usual tension melting away with each mile between us and the estate. I like this side of him.
"Where are our shadows?" I ask suddenly, realizing we're completely alone for the first time since I arrived in Arizona. Well besides our time inside the estate, of course.
"Our what?"
"The other guards. The ones who follow us everywhere."
His mouth quirks.
"You don’t think I can protect you?"
“I…,” my words falter for a second before I realize his joke. Relaxing, I smile back at him and finish my sentence. “Of course you can. It’s actually nice to not feel like I’m constantly being followed and watched.”
“Except by me,” he says with that same smirk.
“Except by you,” I reply, smiling as I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear. Is he flirting with me?
The historic downtown of Prescott feels like stepping into another world and I love it.
Small brick buildings with ornate facades…
other buildings that remind me of something from an old Western film…
all sit beautifully in their own way. Frankie guides me through the streets with surprising ease, pointing out buildings and sharing their stories.
"That building has been standing since 1901," he says, nodding toward an impressive structure. "Supposedly haunted by the ghost of a man who lost everything in a poker game."
I laugh, delighted by this new side of him.
"How do you know all this?"
"I read," he says simply.
‘Be still my heart. This man also reads? Why is God torturing me this way?’
We spend hours wandering the streets, stopping for coffee in a little café where the barista greets us.
It feels more like a date and less like a guard escorting his charge.
No one watches us or follows us around. It's just us, and for a moment, I can almost forget the wedding looming over me. After lunch, Frankie checks his watch.
"Time for my appointment."
“Appointment?” I question, confused, but he doesn’t answer.
He leads me down a quiet side street to a small storefront where a sign reads "Black Dahlia Studio".
My heart skips a beat as he holds the door open for me.
Inside, the studio is nothing like I imagined.
Art lines the walls and the inside seems so much more open with the high ceilings.
It’s a tattoo shop, but it’s more than that.
My eyes light up as I spot a corner with painted black walls and beautiful displays of books on shelves. Tattoos and books…genius.
"Wolf!" Frankie calls out, his voice echoing in the space, making me jump.
I expect a burly, bearded man to appear.
Instead, a petite woman emerges from the back, no taller than 5'3", with long dark hair cascading down her back and the most striking golden-hazel eyes I've ever seen.
When she smiles, dimples appear in her cheeks, transforming her face from merely beautiful to breathtaking.
"You're late," she says, her voice warm despite the reprimand.
"I got caught up. I’ll make it up to you," Frankie responds, then gestures to me. "This is Liana. Liana, this is Wolf."
Wolf's eyes flicker over me with curiosity.
"Nice to meet you, Liana."
Jealousy flares in my chest as I watch them interact, the easy familiarity between them is obvious.
But as Wolf leads Frankie to her spot and begins setting up her equipment, I realize there's nothing romantic in their dynamic.
He teases her like a brother would, and she rolls her eyes at him with the tolerant affection of a long-suffering sister.
"Shirt off," Wolf commands, and Frankie complies without hesitation.
My breath catches as his body is revealed and I get a better look at his back, making me clench my thighs together.
A massive, intricate tattoo covers most of his back, still unfinished in places.
A cross dominates the center, surrounded by what looks like vines and flowers, some parts still just outlines waiting to be filled in. It's stunning, and I can't look away.
"You can look around if you want," Wolf tells me as she begins prepping his skin. "This will take a while."
The first place I head is for the books and after a while I decide to look around more.
I wander the studio, examining the artwork on the walls.
Most are tattoo designs…delicate line work, bold patterns, intricate designs.
My attention keeps returning to one wall displaying floral designs, particularly a series of white flowers that remind me of the datura blooms from the botanical garden and the tattoo on Frankie's neck.
As Wolf works, I overhear snippets of their conversation, noticing how she sometimes pauses before saying Frankie's name, as if it doesn't quite fit. Maybe she calls him Pancho? The third time it happens, I look over, catching a strange expression on her face before she masks it.
"So…" she begins, then stops herself. "Frankie, how's the new job treating you?"
"Fine," he answers curtly, his eyes flicking to me like he knows I’m listening.
"Really? Because you look like shit." She presses the needle deeper, making him wince. "Not sleeping well?"
I laugh a little on the inside because I can tell she’s messing with him. I just wish I knew what the joke was.
"I sleep fine."
Wolf snorts.
"Sure you do."
I pretend to study a design while straining to hear more, but they lower their voices, making it hard for me to follow their conversation. After about an hour, Frankie calls out to me.
"See something you like?"
I point to the white flower designs.
"These are beautiful."
He studies my face for a moment.
"Do you want one?"
The question catches me off guard.
"A tattoo? Me?"
"Why not?"
I laugh nervously as I stare at the design.
"Do you think my future husband would mind me having one?"
Wolf laughs suddenly before stopping herself. When I look over, she's still bent over Frankie's back, but there's a smirk on her face that makes me uneasy. What is so funny? I see Frankie nudge her with his elbow.
"Don't move!" she scolds. "You'll mess up my work."
He turns back to me, his expression unreadable.
"Get one if you want one. It’s your body."
My body. The concept feels foreign after a lifetime of being told what to wear, where to go, who to marry. The idea of marking my skin permanently, making a choice that can't be undone or taken from me…it's intoxicating.
"I'll do it," I say, the decision instant.
Wolf finishes with Frankie's session, covering his fresh ink before turning to me.
"You ready?"
"I'll wait outside. I need to make a call," Frankie says before walking outside.
“Where do you want it?” Wolf asks me curiously.
I hesitate, then point to my ribcage, just below my breast. It’s where the bruise Frankie left on me, the first time we kissed, has faded.
"Here. Small, but detailed."
“It will hurt,” she says.
“I know,” I reply. “It will be worth it.”
“The best things always are,” she says before gesturing for me to lie down.
I remove my shirt and lie on the table, feeling strangely empowered. I watch as she prepares her equipment.
"How do you know Frankie?" I ask.
Her hands pause for a fraction of a second.
"We go way back."
"You seemed surprised to see him with me."
Wolf's smile is enigmatic.
"On the contrary. I’ve heard a lot about you. Let's just say I've known him through many…phases of his life."
She doesn’t elaborate and I don’t ask her to. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to know what she means. The needle touches my skin suddenly, and I gasp at the sharp sting.
"Breathe," she instructs. "This is the part where you decide if it's worth the pain."
I breathe out and nod for her to continue. As she works, I find myself thinking about the wedding, about the man I'm supposed to marry and about Frankie. Each pinprick of pain feels like a small rebellion, a way of claiming something for myself before I belong to someone else.
When it's done, Wolf helps me sit up and hands me a mirror. It’s perfect…
delicate white petals with intricate shading and small enough to be discreet but unmistakable.
It’s my choice and it’s etched permanently on my skin.
Frankie returns just as I’m pulling my shirt back on.
His eyes lock on the edge of my shirt coming down, and something unreadable crosses his face.
He pays Wolf generously with a stack of cash that surprises me, and she walks us to the door.
"Bye Liana, it was nice to meet you…and…Frankie…message me for your next appointment." She laughs and shakes her head at him as we exit.
"Why was she laughing at you?" I ask as we step onto the street.
He scowls, shrugging his shoulders like he doesn’t know but I can tell he does.
"Let's get dinner."
The sun is setting as we find a small restaurant on the town square. We eat but Frankie seems distracted, his eyes repeatedly drifting down to my shirt where my new tattoo lies hidden beneath my clothes.
"Does it hurt?" he asks finally.
"A little," I admit. "But it was worth it."
Something shifts in his expression. A look of pride, maybe?
"I’m glad you’re happy."