by Nicole James
She crawled into bed, rolled to her side, and broke into tears, sobbing uncontrollably into her pillow.
After an hour, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and tried to call Liam, but he wouldn’t pick up. She dropped the phone on the nightstand with a clatter.
She’d lost him for good, and she had no one to blame but herself. She knew it, but that didn’t make the pain any easier to take. It tore through her soul. In a lifetime of pain and loss, this was the worst she’d ever experienced.
Tomorrow she knew she’d have to pull herself together, pick up the pieces of her shredded life, and move on, but not tonight. Tonight she just wanted to let the pain and tears wash over her as she slipped into a deep dark pit.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Liam strode upstairs to Jameson’s office. He plopped down on the leather couch against the wall, his elbows on his knees, and tore his hands through his hair. He couldn’t believe this was happening. How had everything gone to shit in the span of a few minutes?
The photo shoot had been going so well; he could feel the chemistry between them radiating through the room. He knew the shots the photographer was getting were smoking hot. He didn’t need the guy to confirm it, but he had, telling them over and over that the shots were going to be fantastic.
It had all been so good. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe it had all been too good, and everyone knew if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. He shook his head. Hell, wasn’t this exactly the reason he avoided relationships? When they went to hell, it tore his damn heart out.
He stood and paced, ending up at the sideboard where Jameson kept a bottle of fine Irish whiskey. He poured a double shot into a short glass and set the bottle down hard, rattling the other glasses. Downing half of it, he resumed pacing, anger exuding off him.
How could he have misjudged this relationship so badly? How could he have misjudged her so badly? Had he misread every sign?
She’d loved what he loved, she’d gotten his humor, and fuck, the sex was off the charts. Her smile, the light in her eyes, the warmth of her touch when she’d rub his arm or lean in to snuggle against him… Had it all been a lie?
How the hell had this happened? How had he found himself in this position? Had he been blind? He felt like such a fucking fool.
He gulped down the rest of the drink and smashed the glass against the wall.
“Whoa, whoa.” Jameson came up the stairs.
Liam collapsed onto the couch, running his palms down his face. “Sorry, man. Is everyone gone?”
“Yeah.” Jameson pulled a chair over and sat, hunched forward, his head near Liam’s. “You okay?”
Liam looked over at him. “No. I’m not okay. How did this happen? How could I be so stupid?”
“Come on, man; you’re not stupid. She lied to you.”
“I fucking tattooed her ten years ago. How did I not recognize her?”
“That fifteen-year-old chick she was back then is a hell of a long way from the woman who shot those sexy poses with you tonight. Besides, she had shorter, lighter hair, not the long black hair she has now. And I don’t remember her eyes being that fucking blue. I’d bet the shop she’s wearing colored contacts.”
“Why? Has this all been part of another big con?”
Jameson shook his head. “Fuck if I know, but if her brother is running House of Ink, I’m wondering what he’s really up to, because that place can’t be making much. And as greedy as his mother was, I doubt he’s any different.”
“What’s Velvet’s connection? You think she’s after something?”
Jameson huffed out a laugh. “I think she was after you, brother, big time. That chick was into you.”
Liam shook his head. “Had to be part of some act, some play; I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“You believe her?”
“What? That part about her wanting to tell the truth from the beginning?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why didn’t she?” Liam asked.
“You’re asking me to explain the female mind?”
“I really thought we had something. You know? After all this time I’ve spent avoiding anything serious, I really thought she was it for me.”
Jameson patted his knee. “I’m sorry, Liam. I hate like hell to see some chick fuck you over like this. You deserve better. A lot better.”
“All I can think about was the moment you handed her mother all that money. I let you down, and I felt like such a fool. And now, what do I do? I bring her around again.“
“Let the past go. That’s done.”
“How can you say that? I remember how badly that hurt you. Hell, Brothers Ink almost went under.”
“Liam, it’s over. Now is what’s important.”
“And what comes now?”
“That’s up to you, brother.”
“I’m sorry about the photo shoot. What did Ryan say? Are they pulling the article?”
“Nah. He got a shit-ton of great shots. Don’t worry about it.”
“What about what was revealed to him? I did tattoo an underage girl. That’s fact, Jameson.”
“He promised he wouldn’t put it in the article.”
“Can you trust him?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The alarm on Velvet’s phone went off, rousing her just after sunrise. She rolled to her back, still in her clothes where she’d collapsed in anguish the night before. Although she wanted nothing more than to give into the tears again at the thought of losing Liam, she knew she had to put that aside and be strong. She had to pick herself up and move on. She couldn’t allow herself to break down again.
She had a decision to make this morning.
She stared at the ceiling and debated what to do about Ryan Kelly and his offer. The last thing she wanted was to have her pitiful life story out there for the world to see. She was ashamed of so much of it, but she also didn’t want the reputation of Brothers Ink to be tarnished because of her. She’d done enough damage to them in the past; she couldn’t bear it if she was the cause of any more.
In that moment, she knew what she must do. She’d have to tell her story—her real story, all of it, every degrading piece. And as she reconciled herself to this fact, she realized that getting it all out there was exactly what she needed. Maybe once it was all exposed, she wouldn’t live in shame anymore. Maybe she could purge it from her soul for good. Perhaps that would be the only way she could take back her life.
Velvet got up, took a shower, and got dressed. Then she dug out Ryan Kelly’s business card.
***
Ryan called the airline and changed his flight out to the next day. The magazine would be pissed at the fee it was going to cost them, but if Velvet’s story was as good as he suspected, it would all be worth it.
A tap on the door to his hotel room had him up and crossing the room. He opened the door to find Velvet, and a tightness in his chest eased. He wasn’t sure she’d show. “Hello, Velvet.”
“I’m here,” she whispered. “Let’s do this.”
He grinned. “Come on in, please.”
He indicated the table and chairs by the third floor window where his recorder was set up. He also had a pad and pen so he could jot down any thoughts or impressions he had as she told her story.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked. “I have soft drinks, coffee, water?”
“Water is fine.”
He got a bottle out of the mini fridge, cracked the top, and passed it to her. Then he took a seat opposite her.
She took a sip and asked, “Where do you want to start?”
He gave her a soft smile and turned on the recorder. “How about at the beginning?”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “I suppose that’s a good place.” She cleared her throat and took a slow deep breath, preparing herself. Then she shocked the shit out of him with her next words. “I grew up in a family of gypsies.”
His br
ows shot up. “Gypsies? Like, for real gypsies? I didn’t think they still existed.”
Her knee bounced a mile a minute. “They do. We traveled the country, never staying in any town for long, just long enough for my father to pull some cons, get some money, and we’d move on. My father died when I was fourteen. My brother was only a year older than me. He wasn’t ready to take over as head of the family, so it was my mom running the show. She soon proved she knew how to run a con just as good or better than my father. She was a strong woman, and as a widow she honed the tight rein on my brother and me.
“You have to understand, I was raised that men run the family, and women keep the home and children. My mother was especially strict, and she was just biding her time until my brother came of age and took over. In the meantime, she had to take on all the responsibilities my father would have handled. One included seeing to my future. In typical gypsy fashion, she made arrangements for me to marry another gypsy boy from a family in South Carolina—a boy I’d never met. I’m sure she was getting some money out of the deal, some form of dowry. Anyway, we were in Indiana that summer. What she didn’t know was that I’d already met another boy, and we thought we were in love. We were young and stupid, and he had an older brother who knew a place that would tattoo us even though we were too young. Mason got the money, and we went down. He had the guy tattoo our names on each other.
“When my mom found out, she was furious. It was the ultimate betrayal in her eyes. How was she going to marry me off to another boy with Mason’s name tattooed on my skin? She dragged me down to the shop and threw a fit, screaming at the guy and causing a scene. She threatened him with everything under the sun including legal action. I don’t know that she would ever have done anything, but the guy didn’t know that. He finally offered her two hundred bucks to sign the waiver and go away. The moment he offered her money, I could see the light bulb go off above her head, and right there, in that moment, my mother’s biggest con was born.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She got me a fake ID and sent me into place after place to get tattoos. Then she would storm back in with me in tow and threaten to have the place closed down for tattooing a minor. They’d all cave and give her a payoff to sign the consent forms. We hit place after place across seven states before I finally escaped at eighteen.”
“My God.”
“All the tattoos were complete crap, because most of the places were either seedy or just starting up; those types of shops made the best marks for a con like this because they either didn’t want trouble with the law, had violations in the past, or they had new fledging reputations at stake. And it wasn’t just the bad ink; she always had me pick shitty designs. They had to be for the con to work. Gross things no mother would want on her daughter’s skin so as to make her outrage that much more effective. After I escaped, I had them covered over, one by one. All but the one Liam had done. That was the only time I defied my mother and picked a design I wanted—something that meant something to me.”
“And his you kept.”
“Yes. He was kind to me.” She shrugged. “It meant something, and the work was beautiful.”
“And the tattoos you have now?”
“I began to offer myself as a tattoo model in exchange for getting the old ink covered. I only went to the best shops, the best artists I could find.”
“But not Brothers Ink.”
“No, not there, for obvious reasons.”
“You and Liam had some off-the-charts chemistry happening in that photo shoot.”
She looked out the window, giving no response.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
She rubbed her palms over her upper arms several times, then nodded and turned to him. “You know I’ve been used by people my whole life. Exploited and used. Please don’t be another one of those people. Please don’t put the only thing I have left in the magazine. I told you my story. Don’t use my feelings for Liam as part of it.”
Ryan reached across the table and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “I know you don’t know me, and you don’t trust me, but I promise you, Velvet, I won’t do that. Listening to your story, I’m touched and moved by what happened to you. I promise, you’ll like the story I write.”
She pulled her hand away and reached for her water bottle, unscrewing the cap. “I didn’t want to tell this story for obvious reasons, but maybe I need to tell it. Maybe, somehow in telling it, I’ll free myself from the past and the shame. But the main reason I’m doing this is that I don’t want Brothers Ink to be damaged by exposing that they’ve inked underage minors in the past.”
“You have my word.” He studied her a long moment. “Velvet, your story is fascinating. Have you ever thought about writing a book about your life?”
She let out a huff of laughter. “It would be an interesting story, but I can’t even read.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m illiterate. My father never let me attend school. I can sign my name, and I can count money. Those were the only skills my father ever thought were important for a woman. I wouldn’t know the first thing about writing a book.”
“I could be your ghost writer. You tell me the story, and I organize it and put it down on paper.”
She stared at him.
“Think about it. If you like the article I write, we’ll talk.”
“Ryan, you want the truth?”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been getting?”
“Yes. I meant about what you just suggested. To me it sounds like just another pipe dream. You seem to be a sweet guy, and I hope you aren’t a liar. But to be honest, whether I can truly trust you remains to be seen.”
“I understand, but I still hope you keep the suggestion in mind.”
“Let’s just see how the article comes out.”
“All right.” He slid a document across the table and held out a pen. “This is a contract giving the magazine the right to print your story in exchange for this.” He handed her a check. She could read her name and the amount. It was written for one thousand dollars. She looked up from the check she held in her hands to him.
“It’s as much as I can offer you. We do the book, it will be much, much more.”
She glanced down at the contract and pen lying on top.
“I can read it to you if you want,” he offered. “Or if you want a lawyer to look it over, you’re certainly welcome to do that.”
“Read it to me.”
He did, slowly, going over each part. When he was finished, she picked up the pen and signed her name. He stood and shook her hand. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Ms. Jones. You’re a remarkable woman.”
“I don’t feel very remarkable today.”
“I hope the article, in some small way, will be the beginning of changing that. I wish you nothing but the best.”
“Thank you.”
Velvet walked out of the hotel and stood on the street. She looked down at the check in her hand and knew what she had to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Velvet stepped through the door to Brothers Ink. There was a woman behind the counter, one she hadn’t met before, and a couple of customers waiting. She approached the counter, peering farther into the shop, but she didn’t see Liam.
Maxwell, who was showing a customer a design, glanced up and froze. He excused himself and came to the counter. “Let me handle this one, Ava.”
She nodded, a questioning look on her face as she glanced between the two of them.
Max put his palms on the counter, looked at Velvet, and announced in a low growl, “Liam’s not here. He’s taking a few days off.”
“I didn’t come in here to see Liam. I need to speak with Jameson.”
The woman beside him spoke up. “Is this Velvet, the woman I’ve heard so much about?”
Max glanced over at the woman. “Yeah. This is her.”
The pretty blonde surprised Velvet by extend
ing her hand. “I’m Jameson’s wife, Ava. It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Jones.”
Confused, Velvet took her hand. “You know about me?”
She gave Max a stern look. “I’ve got this, Max. You shouldn’t keep your client waiting.”
Max’s jaw hardened, but he pushed off the counter without another word.
Ava turned back with a smile. “Sorry about that. You know how brothers are. They’re pretty protective of each other.” She paused, and her eyes swept over Velvet. “So, you’re the one.”
“The one who caused all the trouble? Yes.”
“No, the one who finally won that big bruiser’s heart,” Ava corrected.
Velvet’s jaw pulled to the side. “I’m confused. You don’t hate me like the rest of them?”
“No. At least not unless you give me a reason.”
“You don’t have a reason?”
“Come with me. Let’s talk in the break room.”
Velvet’s eyes cut to Max. He was definitely keeping one eye on her. “Are you sure?”
“Pay him no attention. Come on.”
Velvet followed Ava through the shop to a room in the back. Ava walked to the coffee maker on the counter and dug two mugs out of the cabinet above. She turned to Velvet. “How do you take it?”
“A little sugar.”
Once she’d poured them each a cup, she carried them to a table and they both sat.
“I’m not going to judge you,” Ava said. “I don’t know what happened when you were fifteen, but if these boys had the things they’d done when they were that age held against them, not a one would be able to talk.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“I don’t know anything about your childhood or how you were raised or what kind of family you come from. What I do know is that you made Liam feel something and dare to open up to you.”
Velvet looked down and nodded.
“And that’s something he’s never done with anyone. You are the first, so there must be something special about you. So, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
