Page 5 of Marked By Ink

My contact at the party is a woman called Lexi. Mr. Red arranged for me to appear as the owner of a tattoo studio, not an artist or a tattooist, but a business owner. It means I can lean on that angle if anybody asks me anything related to the industry.

The bar is loud, but not as loud as the dance floor at the end, pumping its music toward me. My head pulses as I quickly scan the room over the mirror behind the bar and the low ceiling.

It’s not massively busy, perhaps seventy-five people in total, with probably around twenty-five on the dance floor.

I spot Lexi at the corner of the room, matching her description with the one Mr. Red gave me.

The room isn’t bright by any means, but it’s not dark either. Not as dark as the dance floor looks from here. The open doors give me an idea of the room’s proportion and the number of occupants but nothing concrete.

If the tattoo owner is in there, they’ll be difficult to find.

Lexi smiles as I approach, smoothing a hand through her hair. I wonder if that’s a sign of attraction, but I don’t honestly care, beyond the fact it may make my work more difficult if she feels that way.

Yasmin once asked if I’d ever settle down. When I told her I wasn’t sure, she said maybe it was because I saw how disastrous her marriage was, and it turned me off.

But it has nothing to do with her. It’s just me, this lack of feeling, of wanting.

It makes it easier to switch off my emotions when they run at such a low volume most of the time, anyway.

“You must be Felix,” she says, spotting me as I approach. “Tyrone mentioned you’d be coming.”

I suppose my age gives it away, the color of my hair, my height, my build. To say I stand out in this room would be an understatement. Another reason arranging this at a party was such a foolish idea.

I’m not sure who Tyrone is. It’s how Mr. Red works, arranging things seemingly by magic.

But he’snotmagic. He’s just a man who can’t force me to do anything. Nobody can.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say after a pause. “Lexi, right?”

She touches her hair again. “Yeah, it’s awesome to meet you, too.”

As we stare somewhat awkwardly at each other, I reflect for the tenth time how foolish this is, how futile.

Lexi’s about to say something else when somebody approaches us from the bar.

I turn to find a woman standing there, two drinks in her hands, looking up at me with her eyes wide and innocent, stirring something in me, triggering something I’ve never felt and find hard to accept.

I gaze at her, with her wavy light brown hair, pale brown eyes to match, and full cheeks that are flushing slightly.

She’s wearing a lacy black sleeveless top and jeans, with short heels, highlighting the shape of her curvy body, her hips begging to be grabbed, and her thighs screaming to be squeezed.

But only by me.

She’s mine.

I almost laugh the thought away, but there’s nothing funny about this feeling, the sudden infusion of want, the slamming hunger inside of me.

There’s nothing funny about the thoughts entering my mind of a future with this young woman, her belly becoming even curvier when she swells with my child. She looks like she wasmadeto give me the family I never knew I wanted.

No, notlooks like.

She is.

Sheismine.

My head is rushing. I can hardly think.

“Thanks,” Lexi says, taking a drink from the woman. “Felix, this is Freya, an up-and-coming tattooist. Freya, this is Felix. He owns a studio.”

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