Skin Deep (Ink & Brazen Women)

by Cassie Leigh

  “Hey—what was that for!” The kid bent over grabbing his leg. But more importantly, he was no longer looking at Roman’s girl, not that he had any right to call her that.

  Declan turned his back to the room, directing his words to the kid. “Respect, asshole.” His gruff timbre carried anyway. “There’s a lady in the room. I know it’s difficult, but try to act like you’re out of puberty.”

  Roman returned his focus to where it always should have been—Gigi. As she moved around the desk putting her things away to begin work, he couldn’t help but let his eyes rove the lush curves that her black and white ensemble emphasized. Starting from the shocking heels, the shot of pink that made him painfully hard as he recalled the last time he let himself search for it, his fingers twitched to caress the silky curve of her calf.

  His pencil moved over his sketchpad, allowing his imagination to trace what in reality he couldn’t have. It might be the only way he got to touch her after all the accusations that she hadn’t deserved. He didn’t even merit this solace. Didn’t matter—he couldn’t help himself when she displayed her body like art, and that tease of color—he could almost see it taunting him through the thin material of her blouse as his pencil mirrored the rise of her perfect breasts. She knew exactly what she was doing. That’s why she ran a gallery so well and ensnared his artist soul.

  He had to have her back—had to make it right. And if she deigned to give him that elusive second chance, he’d spend the rest of his life groveling to make her Mrs. Bishop. To let her know that she was seen and that he could learn to listen instead of judge. The last thing she’d ever needed was his judgment.

  The sharp squeak that came out with Gigi’s indrawn breath broke Roman’s flow. He blinked at the rush of his surroundings now that he’d fractured the tunnel focus she’d stirred. Her chair rolled back as she stood. “Dad. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “No. You shouldn’t.” Her father’s hand shot out as if to strike her, but she sidestepped him. Without John Duval’s plastic blonde and the benefit of shadows he barely resembled the carefully put together lawyer he appeared to be at the event. Shit rarely did look good under the scrutiny of daylight.

  “Get your things, you’re coming home where you belong.” He gripped her arm in one hand and scooped up her bag with the other, holding it out to her. “You are going to pay for that poison tongue and recant whatever vile lies you told your mother. I never should have let you think you had choices. You had your chance. Now I’m putting you in your proper place.”

  “This is my job. My place,” she spat in a sharp whisper that carried nevertheless. “You’re making a scene and I’m a grown woman. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Roman stood, moving without thought to loom behind Gigi. Declan was at his side without needing to ask. He was the kind of man Roman needed in a crisis. Based on what little Gigi had shared when she’d attempted to explain her family, before Roman’s assumptions had gone and fucked it all to hell—this was about to qualify as such.

  Unable to resist the excuse to touch her, Roman removed her father’s hand and left his own in its place. A gentle touch, one he meant to be reassuring. Her fingers ghosted over Roman’s and then fell away.

  “Is there a problem, sir? The lady just got here. We should allow her to settle into her day.” Roman forced a smile that he was certain came off more like an evil grimace based on the pinched expression of Duval. “We would be happy to help you, wouldn’t we, Declan?”

  Declan nodded; his arms crossed in from of his chest, bulging his corded muscles so that they strained the rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt.

  Duval stood impossibly erect, as if he had a stick shoved so far up his ass he’d been walking on his tip toes. His neck was back, nose in the air, attempting to look down on them as he spoke, despite being the smaller man. “This is none of your concern. My daughter is no longer employed by this establishment.”

  “See, that’s a problem for me. Last time I checked, I write the paychecks and she hasn’t lost her voice.” Roman took a step closer, crowding himself into the other man’s personal space. “I’m not inclined to let you walk out of here with my Gallery Director and Marketing Manager. You see, sir, I need her. And I’m not about to allow you or anyone else to take that choice away from her.” He hoped she could read between the lines of that statement because she went still under his touch, as if she couldn’t bring herself to breathe.

  The balding bastard turned six shades of red. “You can’t be serious, calling this a gallery? No daughter of mine is going to waste a Bachelor in Art History and Business working for a dirty tattoo parlor. I don’t think you know who you’re messing with young man. I will have the health inspector so far up your ass—”

  “Try it, old man.” Roman stepped in until Duval walked backwards towards the door to avoid physical contact. Gigi’s hands gripped Roman’s arm, nails digging in through the white cotton shirtsleeve. “Leave my business now. And do NOT bother Gigi again. Next time I will not ask nicely and I’ll have more friends.”

  Duval opened the door, putting it between his body and Roman’s. “This is not over.”

  “Yes. It. Fucking. Is.” Roman’s fist lashed out, slamming on the doorframe beside Duval’s head.

  He squeaked out his cowardice as he fled, the door thudding closed in his wake. Gigi wilted, stumbling backward on her towering heels until her searching hands gripped the edge of the desk. She used it like a toddler trying to stand, working her way back to her seat to collapse.

  Gigi leaned forward, scooping up the purse her father discarded on the floor. Her hands shaking, she carefully put her planner back in the bag, then her phone before retrieving her keys from the door where she’d stashed them. “Declan, I’m gonna need another day off. Can you walk me to my car? I don’t think I should go out there on my own.”

  “Beautiful, are you even okay to walk right now?” Roman moved towards her.

  “Don’t call me that.” Gigi’s hand flew up like a stop sign, repelling Roman’s advance.

  She hadn’t listened. Hadn’t read between the lines or she hadn’t processed it yet. He was hoping for the latter. Now, seeing in living color the example she’d been set for how a man treated a woman, it was no wonder she had so many walls up about having a relationship. Roman’s actions yesterday, his false accusations were a fresh wound that proved her convictions dead-on. That’s what he was up against.

  “I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t enough, but he said it. Odds were her father never said those words to a woman, especially his wife and daughter. That made it more important for Roman to say it. He’d tattoo the words to his body if that’s what it took.

  “Why don’t we call you an Uber? I can bring your car by when I close up tonight.” Declan held his hand out for her phone.

  She nodded, her eyes fixed on some point Roman couldn’t see as she handed over the device from her purse.

  Declan met Roman’s questioning glare with a level one.

  His friend continued in an even cadence. “Don’t worry, Gigi. You’re one of us now and we’re gonna take care of you. No matter what you decide, you have a place here, okay?”

  Her head bobbed once more. Gigi seemed to focus in on her own shaky breathing. Whatever was happening inside her must have been a tangled mess because she looked as if she was ready to come apart at the seams. The sass she’d come in with had snuffed out. He should hold her until it was all right again. Knowing he couldn’t take care of her the way he had before burned like the hell that was no less then he deserved.

  Declan, not Roman, held her elbow to steady her as she walked on wobbly legs to meet the car. They stopped at the door and she turned back. Her gaze held Roman. In that drawn out moment, he felt the pull to sweep her up, to carry her away from it all. And her eyes—it was wishful thinking—but their sparkle of unshed tears shone like Gatsby’s green lantern on the end of the dock, guiding her former lover back to her.

  Her teeth sank int
o her full bottom lip. When she released it, her faint words turned out to be Roman’s true beacon in the dark.

  “You know where I am if you need me.”

  Then she slipped out the door, as if she’d never been there to give him the salvation he’d been searching for.

  CHAPTER 19

  ..................

  GIGI FIXATED ON THOSE THREE little words. I need her. Had it meant what her heart wanted it to? Fuck—she hoped so because if not that parting invitation was only going to be more heartache for her. She leaned against the bar, twisting the ring on her right hand as she watched Billy finish pouring the seltzer into her absinthe.

  This time the green fairy served a better purpose than making the pain go away—one healthier for her liver. It was a reminder. Roman could see deeper, attribute meaning to things that she never would have considered as he had with this sweet means of intoxication. Absinthe represented a strange kind of hope.

  The deep rumble of the barkeep’s gruff words pulled her from her thoughts. “You’re lucky I still have this on hand, darlin’.” He pushed the milky green spirit closer to her. “Ordered just the one bottle special.”

  “I guess I am lucky.” She slipped her billfold from her purse. “What do I owe you, Billy?”

  “Nothin’ tonight. The liquor is yours anyhow. Roman already paid. It’ll keep anytime you want it.” He raised his hand, gesturing as though tipping an imaginary hat, and moved on down the bar to help the next soul waiting for their dose of firewater.

  Since her workday had ended early, only a few regulars populated the quiet dive. Gigi sipped on her drink as The Pretenders played on the jukebox. She hadn’t even had the chance to gauge Roman’s reaction to her not-so-subtle attempt at wardrobe temptation before her father—no, she would not call him that anymore—before John had upended her day.

  Something had changed with Roman. She couldn’t put her finger on it since he’d been spouting crazy accusations. He protected her, said he needed her, and given her a ray of hope.

  She would not be quick to forgive his easy dismissal of her honesty and faithfulness right out of the gate on their new love. With the appropriate level of groveling—preferably on his knees with that magic tongue—she would jump on the chance to have him back again. If he just admitted he was wrong and told her why, it would be enough.

  More than Gigi had ever needed any random hookup, she had been jonesing for his touch. If this was what breakups were all about, she’d avoid that mess in the future. All she wanted was Roman—in her bed, in her life, in any way they could be together. They hadn’t known each other long, but what she knew in just a couple of weeks of everyday interaction and marathon evening conversations was all she needed to know. Add in the way her skin felt like it was electrified everywhere he touched her, as if she was a lightbulb shining just for him, she was hooked. It would be Roman or it would be no one. Please God, let that not be necessary. She’d never make it as a nun.

  Finishing her drink, Gigi scooped up her purse and wobbled as she descended from her perch on the barstool. Shit—either absinthe packed a bigger punch than she assumed or she shouldn’t have worn those heels. Shoes—yep—let’s blame that. Not the absinthe. It reminded Roman of her eyes. It was a silly, romantic, thoughtful gesture. Another of his skills. Something no one before him had ever taken the time for. Another reason he was the one. Hadn’t she already been thinking that when she ordered it? Great, now her thoughts were on auto repeat.

  She’d waited an hour. Time to walk home. It wasn’t like Roman didn’t know where she lived and where she drank. Maybe he wasn’t coming after all. Tears welled up and her lip quivered just thinking of it. Screw it all—now she was weepy. Yeah, she was way too close to toasted. That is some good booze.

  She waved goodbye to Billy, who nodded back, then she pushed the door open and stepped out into the sun. She flung her arm up to shield against the assault on her eyes. Damn that light was bright after the darkness of the bar. The only thing for it was to head home and put herself to bed. Start this clusterfuck of a day over when it wasn’t today. Contemplating the intelligence of mixing her emotional state, hundred proof liquor, and fuck me heels; she started down the block in what she hoped resembled a straight line.

  Gigi had nearly made it to the building when a firm grip closed on her arm and spun her around. Her heart leapt up, ready to be happy. He did need her. He didn’t let her down. For one brief second, she’d been almost whole. Then reality came crashing in, stomping on her heart where it lay on the sidewalk as she recognized the sick leer of the last person she wanted to see. For fuck’s sake, this asshole didn’t know when to quit.

  “Listen, Chad, I’m really getting sick of telling you, leave me the alone. You’ve jacked up enough of my life.” She jerked her arm—not caring that she’d probably have bruises tomorrow.

  His grip tightened, his voice sharp with command. “No—you listen. You belong to me.”

  They’d skipped to a new scary level with that one command—one that left her bravado cowering in the churning pit of her stomach. The look in Chad’s eyes reminded her of a feral creature, hard and at the same time wide with crazed fear. It fit him like pickles on PB and J—all kinds of wrong. As an otherwise successful lawyer who would be most women’s pick for most eligible bachelor, he could have just about anyone else. That didn’t stop him from bodily dragging her towards her building. It didn’t faze any onlookers into helping her now. Instead, it gave them every reason to look the other way.

  Swallowing back her rising bile, she managed enough voice to shriek, “Stop! I’m not property.” She clawed at his fingers with her free hand as she pulled backwards against his dragging force.

  Gigi lost one of her heels as Chad yanked her over the curb, nearly cranking her ankle in the process. His step never faltered. Her now awkward gait made her that much easier for him to control, until he had her up against a wall on her building. He stopped on the carpark side, not visible from the street. Everything about him was rigid and still. A kind of deadly calm that had been present almost from the beginning of his harassment, when he’d reached to grope her under her mother’s dining room table.

  Her breathing, on the other hand, came out in ragged pants. The blood pumping though her veins sobered her ass up in a hurry, as if she’d been doing shots of coffee instead of liquor. “Find someone who wants you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  Chad gripped her chin with his free hand. He squeezed, forcing her mouth open and making it difficult to speak or cry out. “You’re right. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  His mouth moved towards hers. She pressed her eyes closed—dreading the cold fish feeling of his lips on hers. Then nothing. They never touched her.

  The slap crack of flesh hitting flesh broke the silence followed by a muffled shout that sounded vaguely like “What the fuck!”

  Chad’s hands fell away from her. Without him pressing her against the wall, she stumbled forward and into another set of hands—familiar ones. Only her tipsy hope had confused her before because this touch radiated warmth. The press of soft cotton against her skin as strong arms held her told her all she needed to know. She inhaled the aftershave she hadn’t realized she’d been missing and then opened her eyes to look up into the enraged glare of Roman. There was pain in that look. Only this time it was for her, not because of her.

  “I heard her tell you to stop before you crossed the fucking street and I was a block away, asshole. When a lady tells you no, you listen.” The tick in Roman’s clenched jaw matched the tight control in the low gravel of his tone.

  Chad rubbed his hand along his jaw, testing it. His once neatly combed hair now fell over one eye like a degenerate pirate; his jacket sleeve looked rumpled and pulled askew. “You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with, man. You better mind your own business before I call the cops and have you arrested.”

  Roman opened his mouth to speak but Gigi beat him to the punch.

  �
�Do it—I’d love to file for a restraining order.” Her voice shook, and only the warmth of Roman’s leather jacket combined with her cheek against his white t-shirt fed her enough strength to push through. “I’ve saved everything, Chad. I bet I can get you disbarred. I don’t think charges of stalking and attempted rape will help you make partner at Daddy’s firm. And if those videos hit the internet…” She let the ugly threat hang there.

  The cold smile Roman directed at Chad was sexy—predatory pride. “You better listen to my girl. Damn hard to make that kind of shit go away.”

  ..................

  Roman loved this woman and her sassy mouth. She shook like a leaf in his arms, yet she didn’t hesitate to put her attacker—the douche bag she’d labeled Dick Pic—back in his place. Hearing her threat, the moniker on her contact list made sense, along with her constant need to be on her phone.

  When Roman first parked the bike outside of the Red Barron and looked up to see her abandoned shoe, a pink beacon in the middle of the sidewalk, he’d snatched it up and ran. Then he’d heard her ordering the douche to stop. She didn’t beg. Not Roman’s girl. That wasn’t her style, even in a crisis. Seeing that piece of trash touch her, forcing her submission, snapped something inside Roman. That something snapped 48 hours too late, but he could do something about it now.

  That punch relieved a coiled tension he had been carrying in his gut since Declan had altered Roman’s perception of Sunday. Having Gigi pressed up against his side while she told off that asshole filled another kind of hole that his ex, Jessica, had left behind. Roman had a lot to make up for with Gigi, but now he knew that could happen. He never should have doubted his girl and he’d spend forever making it up to her if she’d let him.

  Roman might be allowed to play hero now, but that didn’t guarantee that everything would work out for them. Even her words at the shop could have been his heart hearing something that wasn’t there.