The Dom on the Naughty List (16 page)

“What’s your name?” he asked, gesturing to Q.

“Q.”

“Just Q?”

“Yup.”

Sabrina snorted. No way was this guy getting her real name from those tight lips. As far as she knew, she and Q’s brothers were the only people alive who knew her real name. And Sabrina had been sworn to secrecy.

“Are you going to tell us your name?” Q asked.

He looked back and forth between them then gave a short laugh. “After being given a whole first letter? Sure. It’s Jude.”

Jude? He looked like a Jude. If it weren’t for the wife beater and dirty jeans, he’d reek of money. Sabrina sidled closer with a wicked grin and batted her lashes.
“Hey, Jude. Don’t make it bad….”

He rolled his eyes as she sang one of her favorite Beatles songs.

“Please let us…” she continued, improvising the words. “Into your house…”

His lips twitched and he flicked his gaze to Q. “Is she always like this?”

“Pretty much.” She took Sabrina’s hand and squeezed it. “Come on, Lennon. Let’s not torture the poor guy any longer.”

Jude gestured to the front of the house. “I’ll let you out the front. There’s no need to slide through those broken rungs again.”

Q was polite enough to look ashamed. Sabrina didn’t often indulge in that feeling, especially not when Q was around to do it for the both of them. So she nodded and skipped ahead to where Jude pointed.

With a jiggle and a kick, he unlocked the front gate. Now why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Here,” he said, stooping to retrieve something on the ground. “You dropped your…”

Sabrina looked down at his outstretched hand as he fumbled for the right word. “EMF detector,” she answered for him.

He nodded as she took it from his hand. “Right.”

She had to admit, he was
kinda cute. His lips were full and perfectly kissable. He smelled nice too – not cologne, just clean but still masculine. It had been a long time since she’d gotten any action. Except for that ass pinch. She glared at Q as they headed toward the street.

“Did you pinch my ass?” she whispered.

Q gave her a mysterious smirk. “You deserved it.”

The Ink Haven didn’t look like much from the outside. The half-painted brick exterior and dark tinted windows weren’t exactly inviting. But the fresh spring air meant all the shops on the strip had opened their doors. Gemma snuck a glance inside. Red tile, a front counter then three curtained sections behind it. The plush interior didn’t match the shabby outside.

Heavy metal blasted from the gothic clothing shop next door, drowning out the classical music in the upscale salon on the other side. The small tattoo shop sat nestled between the two. She chuckled. It looked a little like that game,
Which one of these things is not like the other?

She tightened her grip on her satchel, took a deep breath and walked inside. Immediately, the familiar scent of A&D ointment hit her. Every tattoo shop smelled the same. It made her feel warm inside. So did the soft buzzing of a gun behind one of the curtains.

A guy with a baby face under a baseball cap greeted her from behind the desk. “You looking to get a tattoo, gorgeous?” Leisurely, he ran his gaze over her body.

Oh she’d just bet he’d like to tattoo her. “No, thanks,” she answered with a smile. Maybe she should pretend to be a tattoo virgin, just for fun. She used to do that to size up the competition back in Chicago. That game never last
ed long. Once her t-shirt shifted up her arm a bit, her half-sleeve showed. But she wasn’t here to play games anyway.

She pushed back her bangs and straightened her spine. “I heard you were looking for a new artist. I’m here to apply.”

The guy at the counter raised his brows and gave her another once-over. She was used to being judged based on her gender - at least in the tattoo world. In the real world, she was used to being judged based on her tattoos. Couldn’t win either way. Though there were plenty of female tattoo artists, there were at least three times more males. She’d have to fight to get where she wanted.

“Malachi!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Someone’s here about a job.”

An attractive man with dark hair and a goatee appeared from a room in the back and made his way to the front desk, followed by a bald, tattooed giant. Though not much taller than the other men, he seemed to take up the whole room with an aura of masculine confidence. But her gaze was drawn to his face - clean shaven, almond-shaped eyes, perfect nose and lips…he was gorgeous.

The first one, she guessed Malachi, glanced around the front of the shop, skipping over Gemma. When he realized she was the only one there, he finally said, “Who, her?”

She almost rolled her eyes. “Yes, me.”

“Hm.”
He searched her face with big baby blues. The guy with the baseball hat smiled, revealing a charming set of dimples. Was this a hot guy factory? Did they make one in every shape and color?

“Never had a girl apply,” Malachi said. “What’s your name?”

“Gemma Stone.” He quirked a brow and she sighed. “Don’t ask.” Her parents, though eccentric, were well-meaning. They tried so hard to be cool and failed so miserably. At least they accepted her career and always supported her.

“Do you have a profile?” he asked.

“Of course.” She shifted her satchel to the front and took out the photo album. “These are ones I’ve done in the last six months or so.” She handed it to Malachi.

The guy at the counter browsed a tattoo magazine. The
hottie behind Malachi watched with a bored expression as Malachi flipped through the pages. She fought the urge to fidget nervously. Show no signs of weakness. Big ego, no shame. That was how she’d made her way into the industry and it was how she planned on getting this job.

“That’s some nice work,” Malachi said, handing the album back.
“If it’s yours.”

She tucked it back in her bag. “It is.”

He looked her over. “You’re not tatted up, considering you’re an artist.”

“Maybe I am and they’re just in places you can’t see.” She smirked and placed a hand on her hip.

Malachi grinned. If he had any sense of humor at all, she could work for him. It’d been sad leaving her last shop, but staying there after... She swallowed back the bite of pain and anger. It was time for a fresh start. This wasn’t exactly home, but it was a tattoo shop. It could be her home. If they accepted her.

“Alright, Gemma Stone, let’s see what you’ve got. Can you do one today?”

“Of course.” She pulled the satchel over her head and set it down on a nearby chair. Malachi and the baseball hat guy watched her curiously as she stretched her wrists and arms. She’d just spent eight hours lugging boxes to her new shared apartment. Unless her victim wanted a wonky, stiff tattoo, she needed to loosen up a little.

Malachi turned to the guy behind him, who looked like he was silently dying of boredom. “Cross, you up for a new tattoo?”

Finally, his face came to life. Like the others, he looked her over. “By her?”

Anyone else would’ve been offended, but she couldn’t even count the number of times she’d been through this song and dance.

“Her portfolio is pretty good, man,” Malachi said. “And if the tattoo sucks, I’ll cover it on the house.”

“Your confidence in me is astounding,” she muttered.

Cross let out a long sigh and shifted his stance. “Alright. I’m willing to see a drawing at least.”

“Great! Any ideas for what you want?”

“You’re gonna do it now?” He looked at Malachi then back at her.

“Sure. I’ll need a few minutes to sketch though, depending on what you want.” She dug through her satchel for paper and her favorite sketching pencil. “Where can I sit?”

Malachi stroked his goatee as he assessed her. “You’re young. How long you been doing this?”

She bit her lip and thought for a moment, then decided on the truth. “Officially five years.
Unofficially since my sophomore year of high school.”

He chuckled then looked at baseball hat guy.
“Here that, Jake? She’s been tattooing longer than you.”

Jake shrugged. “Doesn’t mean
she any good.”

True. And that was why she had to prove herself. She looked at Cross. “Any ideas or do you want me to make something up?”

He crossed his arms and smirked. “I’ll pick something. I’m not giving you free reign on my body and ending up with a pink butterfly somewhere.”

Ugh. She
so
hated stereotypes. And butterflies. “I can do a beautiful pink butterfly but I’d prefer to do something cool like a dragon or a phoenix. I can rock Chinese art but I’m wicked at horror pieces.”

Cross thought for a moment then looked over his body. He didn’t have much room to spare. One leg was covered in an assortment of traditional American style tattoos. The other had an abstract circle design on his knee cap. One arm looked like a full sleeve, the other a half. She’d bet under that gray t-shirt, she had a few on his chest.
Maybe a rib piece.

“How about a gargoyle on the back of my calf,” he finally said.

A gargoyle. She’d never done one. Didn’t mean she couldn’t though. “You got it. Give me half an hour. That okay?”

“Sure.” He cracked a smile and turned to Malachi. “Maybe I should get a little fuzzy at the bar first so I forget about whatever cluster fuck I got myself into.”

Smartass. “If it’ll calm your nerves, go for it. Just make sure you eat something. I don’t want you passing out on me. That wouldn’t look good.”

His brows shot up. “Do I look like the type who passes out during a tattoo?”

She made a show of looking him over. By his expression, he didn’t like being scrutinized. Too damn bad. Sometimes turning the tables was the only way to deal with guys like him. “Yes, you do. I’ve learned the guys that look the toughest are usually the biggest babies.”

He growled.

Her stomach
thunked
. Holy shit. That was the sexiest thing she’d heard in a long time. Despite her self-confidence and easy way around guys, she did like a man in charge. And Cross…he looked like a man who always got his way. She fought back a shudder.

He took at step toward her. “I have over half my body inked, girl. I think I’ll be fine.”

Just because she thought it would bug him, and to show he couldn’t intimidate her, she grinned. “I’ll be gentle just in case.” Before he could respond, she spun and grabbed her bag. “I’m gonna go draw. See you in a bit!”

Behind her, Malachi chuckled.
“That one’s trouble. I can tell already.”

Cross grunted then walked to the door. “I’m going to the office for a few. I’ll bring back Jude’s blueprints.”

Malachi waved him away then ushered Gemma to a small workspace in the back next to the thermal fax.

“Thermal paper’s here,” he said, pointing to a shelf above the desk. “You know how to work the fax?”

“Of course.”

“If you have any questions, I’ll be up front.” He smiled. “Good luck.”

She didn’t need luck. Not when she had skill. Alone with pencil and paper and a bit of inspiration, she was in her comfort zone. First, she scrolled through some gargoyle photos on her phone, just to get some ideas for structure. Then she began her sketch.

From up front, she heard Jake say, “You should hire her. She’s hot. We’ll get more customers.”

“And what if your customers want her to tattoo them instead of you?” Malachi countered.

Jake scoffed. “Not happening.”

She smiled.
We’ll see about that.

Shutting out the sounds of the shop, she focused on her work. Twenty-five minutes later, she had a fierce little gargoyle, sized perfectly to fit Cross’s calf. She hoped. He was pretty big. But she could always enlarge it on the fax machine.

Cross’s deep voice drew her from her haze. She turned toward the front of the shop and caught him staring at her before he quickly looked away. That familiar feeling of nervous energy started - the one that went with being attracted to a man. She stamped that down real quick. A rebound fuck? No. She had to get her shit together first.

Transferring her image to the thermal paper would only take a few moments. First, she wanted to check it with him. Sketch in
hand, she walked to her newest client. She’d be lying if she said her confidence didn’t falter just a bit. Not only was he a mean-looking man who could break her like a twig, but this was, essentially, a job interview. There weren’t a lot of tattoo shops in the area. And the others she’d scoped out online looked a few months from going out of business.

“If we push out the back, we can at least double the size of this place,” Cross said, pointing to some blueprints laid out on the counter top.

So they were planning to expand? Good news for her. Now she really wanted this job. “No pressure,” she whispered. With a deep breath, she stepped up to Cross. That he was sitting on a stool made it a little easier to approach him. “Ready.”