Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
VIOLET
Do I look like a married woman?
I’m fresh from the shower, hair dripping wet, standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.
I look happy. And I should after all the sex we had once we got home from the Little White Chapel, where Mateo paid the owner a shit ton of money to let Diego be the one to perform the ceremony.
It was short and sweet and perfect, and now I’m Mrs. Cabrera.
That’s fucking crazy.
I lift my hand to wipe a water droplet from my shoulder, and the huge diamond on my finger sparkles in the mirror.
This diamond is ridiculous. I mean, it’s perfect, a cushion cut that is so sparkly and gorgeous that it looks like it should be part of the royal collection or something and does not belong on my hand.
It screams I’m taken by a rich guy, and although in the past I might have raised an eyebrow, I have to admit that I’m not mad about it.
Mateo surprised me at the altar when he slipped a diamond eternity band on with the engagement ring. That’s a lot of shine on my hand. I didn’t have a ring for him, but he just smiled and said he had a plan.
I got married last night.
A grin spreads over my face before I finish towel drying my hair and then braiding it and wandering into the closet to get dressed for the day.
I’m headed to my new studio later to see how things are going with the construction, and then I’m meeting the girls in the basement of the King of Spades for some training.
I’ve joined them once before, and I loved learning the guns and helping the girls with hand-to-hand.
Lulu just watches, of course, but she likes to chat with us and cheer us on.
I’ve just pulled on some jeans and a black tank and packed a bag with workout clothes when Mateo comes strolling into the bedroom, looking fucking edible in his own jeans and white T-shirt. Christ, he was inside me less than an hour ago, and I’m ready to go again.
“Keep looking at me like that, Savage.”
I smirk and lean into him so I can kiss his chest.
“I need you to do something for me,” he says. “Come.”
He laces his fingers through mine and leads me out of our bedroom and down the hall to the room that he gave me for my Rosie board, along with space to tattoo.
It’s my own workspace, and I kind of love it.
I think I’ll keep it even after the studio is open because there’s also a big drawing desk under the window, where I can work on art pieces.
I set up the board like I did in my apartment, but I’ve added printouts of the photos that Julian sent me, along with the invitation for the gala on Saturday and a few other things. I like seeing everything in one place.
“What do you need?” I ask him, and feel my brows lift when he sits in my tattoo chair.
“I need your name tattooed on my ring finger.”
That’s hot as fuck.
But there’s just one problem.
“I don’t do names,” I tell him, and his eyes narrow. “It’s a policy I have. No names because I’ve had too many people come back and need to have them covered up.”
“I won’t ever need this to be covered up,” he says as he tugs me into his lap, cups my cheek, and kisses the fuck out of me. “You’re mine forever. We even have a piece of paper that says so.”
“But things can happen—”
“No.” He shakes his head, and rather than looking mad, he smiles at me.
I love it when he smiles.
“You’re it for me. But I don’t want ‘Violet’ on my finger. I want ‘Savage.’”
“Oh, that’s very fitting for you.”
And the hot factor might have just climbed by about a hundred.
“Do you have a font in mind?”
I wiggle out of his lap, grab my iPad, and find my folder full of fonts. We scroll through them together until he finds the one he likes the best, and then I get it ready to be printed onto a stencil. I shave his finger and sanitize it and then blow out a breath.
“The fingers hurt,” I mutter as I painstakingly place the word on his skin and then peel the paper away. “First, make sure this is where you want it.”
“It’s great.”
I let out a gusty sigh. “Stop doing that. Look at it, Mateo. I need you to check it.”
He glances down and then back at me.
“It’s great,” he repeats. “I’ll always trust your judgment.”
“It’s not about trust. What if it looked crooked to you?”
“It doesn’t.”
“But what if it did?”
“But it doesn’t.”
He laughs and drags his hand up my side and around to my ass.
“You just like to argue with me, Savage.”
“I’m not—you know what? Fine. I assume you want black ink?”
“No.” I look up at him and his lips twitch. “I want violet ink.”
“You want purple?” I lift an eyebrow.
“I want violet,” he repeats. “It’s light purple. I thought about getting it the color of your hair, but the other is a little more symbolic.”
“You literally turned into a romantic overnight.”
He laughs and leans over to kiss my temple. “Or you just bring it out in me.”
I rifle through my ink colors and come out with six different shades of purple, and he chooses one that is, indeed, violet.
And my heart might be beating just a little faster as I lean over him and get to work.
“What are you doing today?” I ask, trying to distract him.
“I’m going with you,” he replies. He doesn’t even flinch when I start to etch the ink into his skin.
I’ve had big, badass men cry in my chair when their hands and fingers were being done.
“You are?” I smile up at him and he nods. “I’m spending most of the day at King of Spades.”
“I know. Rome and I are going to show you guys how to throw knives.”
“Ooh, that sounds fun. Never know when I might be at a dinner and have to take a guy out with a steak knife.”
Mateo chuckles and drags his free hand down my cheek. “You never know.”
When I’m finished with the ink, I clean it up and then lean back.
“There you go.”
He picks his hand up and examines it, and the proudest freaking smile spreads over his face.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. A ring can get caught on things, and I don’t want to take it off. This is the way to go.”
“I can fill in the rest of the hand sometime,” I tell him, examining his arm. His tats end at his wrist. “If you wanted.”
“You can ink me up anywhere you want, whenever you want, baby.”
“When did you start getting tattoos?”
“Shit, I must have been around sixteen.” He lifts his sleeve and shows me the angel wings on his upper biceps. “That was the first one. For my mom.”
I nod and let my eyes drift down the rest of the arm. There’s dice, playing cards, the king of each suit, flowers, a knife. Make that two knives.
There are also flames. Some blazing and others small.
“Someday, I want a tour,” I tell him quietly as I push back to sanitize and put everything away. It doesn’t take long, and when I’m finished, Mateo pulls me back into his lap, captures my chin in his hand, and kisses me thoroughly.
“Thanks for the ink,” he says softly.
“Thanks for the ring.”
His lips tip up on one side. “It was a fair trade.”