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He released me suddenly, his eyes going more tender as he knelt in front of the chair. "Do you not like the design?"
"It's beautiful," I muttered reluctantly.
He sighed, touching my knees with his hands as Ada returned to the room. "I need you to be mine in all ways," he explained, and with the fact that the fight had disappeared from me, he seemed to decide it was safe to return to the tender man I'd convinced myself I'd married. I hated that it was partially a show, that even if that was one side of him, the man who lurked beneath the surface would always take my choice away if it suited his needs.
"I'm already your wife," I said.
"If I could tattoo my name on you, I would. Consider this a compromise." He stood, making for the door to go have his own ink done. Ada's face was solemn as she took the seat next to me, positioning my arm the way she needed it.
"I won't do this without your permission, but—"
"Just get it over with," I snapped, turning my face away so I didn't have to watch.
Thirty-Nine
Calla
I hid in the bathtub once we'd tucked the kids in, trying to wrap my head around my thoughts. I hated that Ryker had again taken my choice away from me, had violated my body in a way that I could never undo.
That I couldn’t soak one of my arms only pissed me off all over again.
A tattoo should have been my choice, and if he'd needed that date on my skin, he could have at least given me the choice of where and how. But it also pissed me off that the tattoo was damn near perfect and that it combined two things I'd contemplated getting a tattoo of and put it in the one place I'd have wanted it.
So it wasn't that I didn't like the tattoo. The opposite was true, and the roman numerals in the unalome were subtle enough that most people wouldn't notice them unless they really looked. It was done tastefully, and the artwork was stunning. Ada was a very talented artist without a doubt.
It didn't stop me from feeling like every day I spent with Ryker I drowned a little more.
Like I was trying to breathe underwater, but I couldn't even bring myself to swim.
I hated that I enjoyed being with him enough to consider letting him pull me under completely, despite his flaws. He crossed the line often, but he never hurt me. He never made me feel like I was less than him, for all the ways he controlled me, more that he controlled me because I was worth more and it enabled him to either protect me or truly appreciate the fact that I was his.
So it was with that in mind that I went looking for him after my bath. I knew there were only two places he could be, his gym or the garage working on the Chevelle. As I passed the gym, the distinct lack of noise coming from the door made me make my way to the garage.
The door was open to the hallway, and I stepped insid
e. Ryker laid under the Chevelle, only his denim-clad legs sticking out as he worked on whatever task he'd assigned himself for the day. As I stepped in, I contemplated what I wanted to say to him and how I could make him understand that I just wanted to feel like I had control in my life. Like he wouldn't just override me if I made a decision he didn't agree with.
My eyes caught on the folder resting on his tool chest, and the edge of a photo sticking out from it. Curiosity got the better of me, so after a quick glance to confirm he was still under the car, I moved toward it and flipped the folder open despite my misgivings. I half expected there to be bloody photos of a victim of the Bellandi family, but what stared back at me felt somehow infinitely worse.
A photo of a blond in profile seemed to make my heart stop in my chest. She looked so much like me, with her big blue eyes and wavy hair.
The distinction was that she was young.
Probably barely out of high school, if I had to guess, and styled perfectly with flawless makeup and clothes to accentuate the curve of her body.
I winced, scoffing in disbelief as I pushed that photo out of the way and came to another of the same woman. "What are you doing?" Ryker asked, and I jumped in place as I spun to look at him. He'd slid out from under the Chevelle, eyeing me as if I was the one in the wrong.
"You married me yesterday and forced a tattoo on me today, and you're already shopping for a younger model?" I asked, glaring at him as I snapped the folder closed. I scoffed, unable to believe how stupid I'd been. How foolish I must have been to believe that he might have cared about me.
How humiliating.
He got to his feet, approaching me, and there was a grin on his face as he put a hand on the chests on either side of me and leaned into my space. "Are you jealous, Sunshine?" he whispered, reaching up and fingering a lock of my wet hair before he flung it over my shoulder.
"You're my husband. It isn't jealousy to expect that you don't stalk other women, Ryker," I snarled, swatting his hand away as I continued to glare up at him.
He chuckled, stroking his thumb over my cheek. "Sheathe your claws, Hellcat. She's a mark for work."
The breath whooshed out of me in a rush, horror filling the void as I glanced back at the folder behind me. "Are you going to—?"
