Page 46 of Inked Desires
My throat tightens. Each word feels like a knife in my own flesh. But it’s that or let him strike first. And I can’t risk Arès paying the price for my running away.
Silence. Too long.
“I’ll contact you again,” he finally says.
A reprieve. A brief breath before the inevitable. But already more than I hoped for.
“And Andrew…”
I freeze, heart pounding wildly.
“You’d better pick up when the phone rings,” he murmurs before the line goes dead.
The silence screams in my ears.
I stay frozen, fingers white around the receiver. My gaze fixed on the red wall in front of me, but I don’t see it. All I perceive is the echo of his voice, the shadow of his presence spreading like a cold shadow over me.
A creak makes me jump, and I hastily put the phone down on the desk. A beautiful young woman emerges from the back room, approaching me cautiously. Arès follows closely behind.
I grip the edge of the desk tightly, trying to hide the trembling of my hands.
I take a deep breath, gather all my strength, and smile.
“Already done?” I ask the woman, feigning cheerfulness.
She looks pale, her smile tight.
“Yes, it hurt more than I expected,” she replies.
“The ankle is a really delicate area,” I confirm as I print her receipt.
I take it and hand it to her.
She pulls out her wallet and hands me the agreed sum.
“The rest is for you,” she says, looking at Arès.
Her eyes travel over his entire body before settling on his lips. I barely restrain an eye roll.
“That’s kind. Thank you,” I mumble as I put the money in the cash register.
“Remember: don’t scratch, even if it itches,” Arès adds.
“Of course. See you soon, handsome,” she says, addressing only him before limping out of the studio.
As for me, I fight the urge to vomit. I wish Arès were a little less attractive.
“What’s wrong?” he asks once the door closes.
I roll my shoulders to ease my tense back.
“Nothing.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. His lips purse as he studies my face carefully. He doesn’t believe me. It’s obvious. And I can’t blame him. I must look completely shattered.
“Does it bother you that I touch other people during tattoos?” he asks bluntly.
Surprised, I tilt my head slightly. That’s really what’s bothering him? Seriously? It’s the last thing on my mind right now.
