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We talked about expanding the gentleman’s club, we talked about the dispensary, we talked about the potential for opening other bars likeBottoms Up.
But my head was reeling.
I couldn’t keep myself from standing from my seat, declaring that I needed a moment before stepping out of the office.
To find Ace standing right on the other side.
“Can I help you?” she asked with a smile, probably thinking I needed the bathroom or something.
That’s what I should have answered with.
That’swhere I should’ve gone.
But no.
“Your tattoo,” I blurted, gesturing toward the spot, just above her armpit, even though it was covered now. “What does it mean?”
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes searching mine before she answered in a tone suddenly much cooler than what she’d greeted me with before. “It’s just a flower.”
“No, it’s not.” I shook my head. “And I need to know what itis.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why?”
Alarms went off in my head, and it struck me how incredibly stupid this was of me to confront her in this manner, alone.
Idiotic, honestly.
But I was out here now, and I couldn’tunsay the words.
“I need to know if it’s related to another tattoo. A ring of thorns,” I answered, pointing to my bicep like I had one.
A second later, she had the throat of my pretty blouse clutched in her fist, dragging me right up against her.
“Start talking,right now,” she demanded, in a tone that invited no argument. “Tell me what you know and how you know it, aboutthattattoo.”
