Chapter Thirteen
Welcome to Tattoo Spectacle.
I’m your host, Ewan McManus, and tonight the competition gets even more interesting.
Our remaining artists are fighting for a million dollars, but apparently, that’s not the only thing sparking around here. Because while they’ve been battling with ink, two of them may have experienced something a little more permanent… a Vegas wedding complete with an Elvis impersonator.
That’s right. In between clean lines and blown-out shading, we’re sitting down for a very honest interview about the moment it happened, and whether it was fate… or just pheromones and bad judgment.
But don’t get comfortable. Romance doesn’t stop the clock. Tonight’s challenge is brutal, the pressure is real, and apologies won’t fix a shaky outline.
This is Tattoo Spectacle. Let’s see which connection lasts longer, the ink… or the marriage.
Hale
The next morning finds us in the convention area before the sun has even considered rising.
We worked through the interview questions for about an hour the night before, right up until I faked a dramatic yawn and kicked Aksel out of my room.
It had still been offensively early, but I couldn’t handle him in my space anymore.
There are only so many suppressants I can take before they stop doing their job, and the last thing I need is to go into heat on camera. That’s not only a scandal, but a career-ending disaster.
Of course, Aksel was standing outside my room waiting for me this morning with two coffees like some kind of smug, blond temptation.
I did my best not to be weird, but my brain was still stuck on last night.
On the kiss. On his hands and the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.
I may or may not have taken matters into my own hands after he left.
Several times. Let’s just say my dick is exhausted, but I’m hoping that it helps curb the slick and contact-heat nonsense threatening to ruin my life.
Nadine waves us toward an ornamental loveseat positioned across from an empty chair clearly meant for our interviewer. Everything about the setup screams intimate.
“This interview isn’t airing live,” Nadine drones, barely looking up from her tablet. “So don’t worry about fucking up. We’ll fix it in post.”
“Comforting as always, Nadine,” Aksel says cheerfully, entirely unbothered by the hellhound’s glowing glare.
After that, things blur together. Someone comes in to wrestle with my hair and apply makeup, promising it’ll look “effortlessly natural” on camera.
My hair ends up pulled into a tight bun that feels like half of it was ripped out in the process.
Aksel, meanwhile, looks unfairly perfect.
His sun-kissed skin was glowing, and his loose blond hair falling artfully across his forehead.
Asshole.
Then she arrives.
The cyclops interviewer sweeps into the room like she owns it, reeking of wilted roses and confidence.
Her single eye is aggressively lined with black eyeliner, and her red suit is doing a heroic amount of work holding her gigantic breasts in place.
With a quick word to the cameraman, she takes her seat in the empty chair and crosses her short, chubby legs at the knee.
The cameraman counts down from three and points to let her know the camera is rolling.
She smiles widely at us, lipstick staining her large, gapped teeth.
“Hello! I’m Cammie Lavine, and I’ll be conducting the interview for Tattoo Spectacle, but you both know that already, I’m sure,” she trills. “You two must be thrilled to tell the world about your surprise Vegas wedding!”
“Over the moon,” Aksel replies smoothly, nailing the tone of genuine enthusiasm with just enough pip in his voice to mask his sarcasm.
He spreads his legs and leans back, pressing into me from shoulder to knee. The contact is subtle, but it sends my nerves screaming. I tell my dick to behave while silently clinging to the comfort he’s offering.
“Well,” Cammie says conspiratorially, “I think everyone wants to know how you two met.”
I glance at Aksel. I’m uncomfortable with being on camera without having a tattoo to work on. His hand settles on my thigh, warm and grounding.
“We’ve known each other since fourth grade,” he says easily. “Miss Stensil’s class.”
I nod. “He stole my seat.”
“And never gave it back,” he adds with a grin. His hand strokes my thigh comfortingly. I start doing math in my head to avoid showing the whole world just how attractive I think my husband is.
Cammie giggles and moves right along. “When did you first know you were in love?”
“For me?” Aksel looks at me with a soft, loving smile. “Love at first sight.”
His voice is thick with some unnamed emotion. My stomach flips. What the fuck? He didn’t mention anything about being in love at first sight last night. Is he fucking with me? Trying to confuse me so I fuck up my answers? Somebody, please, make this make sense because I can’t.
“And you, Hale?” Cammie presses, leaning forward. “When did you fall in love with Aksel?”
I plaster on my best performance smile. “I think I’m still falling.”
I tilt my head onto his shoulder, nuzzling him gently. She eats it up, clapping like we’ve announced a pregnancy and a run for the presidency at the same time. Aksel’s hand creeps higher up my thigh, distracting me from the next question. I’m grateful when he answers for me.
The next few questions pass without fuss, with Aksel answering and me only adding on when Cammie prompts me to.
“If one of you wins, what will you do with the money?”
We talked this over a lot last night. Turns out, we both had similar plans for the winnings. “If we win, and I sincerely hope we do, we plan to open a shop right here in Vegas. We want to train the next generation. Hold classes. Create art with ink.”
“Hale? Is that something you both want?” she prods. “Of course,” I say simply.
She waits, clearly hoping for more. I give her nothing. Her irritation at my lack of details flashes before she pivots.
“What do your parents think of your sudden elopement?
My mouth opens. Closes. Aksel saves me yet again.
“My parents are happy for us,” he replies smoothly. “They’ve known about my infatuation with this man since the beginning, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise for them. Hale isn’t close with his family, but my parents think of him as another son. They love you like their own, Fylgja.”
I give him a small smile and twine my fingers through his on my thigh, squeezing to convey my thanks.
“Do you mind if I ask what you keep calling him? I’ve never heard that word before,” she weasels in another unapproved question. I can see Nadine out of the corner of my eye, smoke rising from the top of her head. If looks could kill, Cammie would be a pile of ash.
I feel more than hear the growl in Aksel’s chest, and I know he must be getting frustrated with the nosey cyclops.
“I think Hale and I will keep that between us, Cammie.” His voice is tight, the grip on my hand bordering on painful, but his face is relaxed and polite.
His alpha nature must be making it difficult for him to maintain his calm facade.
“Oh, poo,” she pouts, sticking her lip out as she turns to speak directly to the camera. “Congrats again, guys, and good luck with the rest of the competition.”
We sit still until the cameraman signals that the cameras are off. Cammie immediately stomps off, muttering about uncooperative guests ruining her interviews. Nadine is quick to follow, her hands fisted at her sides, glowing yellow with restrained anger.
“What the hell was that?” Nadine is heard loud and clear, her voice echoing through the cavernous room. The convention area goes eerily quiet as everyone waits for the drama to unfold. Nadine’s glowing red hair is floating around her head, her frustrations a palpable thing.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Nae Nae. The questions you approved were so boring.
I needed the quiet one to show a reaction to something.
You’re lucky I only asked those two tiny questions.
I could have brought up the drug addiction or the missing person report.
” Cammie flips her thin hair and smirks at Nadine.
I blanch at the thought of the world finding out about my parents’ drug problem. That’s not something I ever thought would get out. And a missing person? Who is missing?
“Just because we sleep in the same bed at night doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you when you fuck up,” the tiny hell hound snarls. “My boss will be hearing about this, and you’ll be lucky if you ever get invited back for another little interview on this show ever again.”
“Bitch,” Cammie growls.
“Whore,” Nadine retorts.
“See you tonight for dinner?” Cammie’s entire demeanor changes from bitchy to sweet in an instant. I feel like I have whiplash from the change in the atmosphere.
“Sure, love,” Nadine answers quietly, leaning in for a sweet peck on the lips. Cammie finger-waves at her and walks out of the room. Nadine goes back to her tablet as if nothing happened, her lips lifted in a grin.
“Sushi?” Aksel asks, completely unaffected by the soap opera that just played out in front of us.
“Sure, but no alcohol,” I say before adding, “And you’re paying.”
“Anything for you, husband.”
Has it really only been three days since I got to Vegas?