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CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Stella
Iknew this was going to be fun, but man, I didn’t know Seb’s reaction was going to be this good.
“Is he still growling at me?” D whispers, and I have no choice but to throw my head back and laugh as he lifts his machine, giving me a little reprieve from the pain on my thigh.
“Oh yeah,” I say after a few seconds. “I’m not expecting that to stop anytime soon.”
“I’m not sure whether I should be warning you off him or telling you you’re brave for being anywhere near him.”
“Maybe he’s the brave one.”
“From what I’ve heard, you might be right. What do you think?” he asks, shooting a glance down at my very sore-looking thigh.
“It looks amazing, thank you so much,” I say sincerely.
When Emmie first spoke to him about doing this, he was super reluctant. Both of us are old enough, but knowing that we were Emmie’s friends made it a little weird for him. Especially as he’s adamant that Emmie is not getting any ink anytime soon—well, not from him at least—so I think it made him feel like a bit of a hypocrite. But the second Emmie showed me some of his work, there was no way he wasn’t doing this.
I knew what I—what we—wanted. I’d already put a design together. Emmie had taken it off my hands and added to it in her own way, and then it finally went to D, who just made it sing.
I’m obsessed with it. And I can’t wait to look at it every day for the rest of my life.
Seb though can’t see fuck all right now, and it’s killing him.
“Seb?” I ask, my voice all innocent.
“Yes,” he growls, his eyes that have been drilling into me the whole time we’ve been here narrowing in curiosity.
“Theo’s name is spelled T-h-e-o-d-o-r-e, right?”
His lips purse as the meaning behind my words hits him. I also don’t miss Emmie’s head fly up from her cell in curiosity. She’s seen the design, but still, hearing Theo’s name causes a reaction.
Damn, to have been a fly on the wall between them last night.
“You’ll need a reminder, because if you have any of their fucking names on your skin they’ll no longer be breathing to see it.”
D chuckles, and after stretching out his back a little, the buzz returns and he gets back to work.
“We’ll see. He’s all talk,” I tell D.
“Fucking am I?” Seb scoffs.
D shakes his head at our bickering. I can only assume that he’s fully aware of just how dangerous Seb and the rest of the Cirillo Family are, but he never says anything—aside from Seb’s name when we arrived—to confirm or deny that.
I thought the time was going to drag as I laid here torturing Seb. But all too soon, D sits up and announces he’s done, a triumphant smile on his face.
“Can I see?” Seb asks, sitting forward.
“Nope,” I say happily. “Wrap me up, D. Then I want to see what a wuss my man is.” I wink, not even trying to hide my teasing.
“Wuss. You know I’ve already had both sleeves done, right?”
“Inner thigh is no joke,” D adds, happily joining in.
“Whatever. Get your arse out of the chair, baby.”
Without waiting for instructions, he drops his pants, making Emmie and D’s eyes widen in amusement before hopping up in the spot I waddle away from, the wrapping over my thigh and a wide smile on my face.
