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“So good, Ricki,” I cooed, stilling inside her body and wrapping her in my arms. “So fucking good.”
She nodded, giving me a satisfied hum.
When her breathing had slowed, I fixed her panties and tugged her skirt down before knotting off the condom and pocketing it.
“Feel better?” I asked, and she sent me a dreamy smile. “I’m glad,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Exiting the storeroom, I led Ricki back out front—ignoring the shocked expression on Tillie’s face—then washed my hands and grabbed a bottle of water for my girl from the staff kitchen. The bell over the shop door dinged, and I looked up to see Easton entering, a brown paper bag in each of his hands.
“I figured you weren’t coming back anytime soon, so while we were waiting for the dinner rush, I thought I’d bring over some sustenance.”
“You don’t have to feed us all the time, Easton,” Ricki said, taking the box he handed her with a nod of thanks.
“I know I don’t,” Easton acknowledged, handing the next box to a red-faced Tillie, where she sat at the reception desk, once again wearing the odd, over-sized blazer. “But not all of the menu items have actually been ordered yet, so I wanted to give the guys in the kitchen some practice at making the more obscure stuff before it actually gets ordered. So, really, you’re helping me out.”
“Well, then. You’re welcome, I guess.” Ricki smiled before digging into her box of smoked salt and pepper wings.
“Um, Mr. Easton, sir?” Tillie asked shyly. “I think there might be something wrong with this tomato.” She looked nervous as she pointed to an item in her own lunch box.
“That’s not a tomato,” Easton said with a laugh. “That’s a pickled radish.”
“Oh, right.” Tillie looked mortified, her face turning even more red. “I’m sorry. Thank you again.” She ducked her head, but I noticed she continued to pick the radishes off her smoked turkey sandwich and surreptitiously hide them under her fries as though she’d get in trouble if she were caught doing it.
Easton and I shared a look, but before we could comment on it further, the door opened again, and in strode Enzo Argenti, looking just as unhappy as he had the night I’d met him. He scowled around the shop, taking in the four of us present, his eyes holding on Easton for a moment before he finally nodded to himself and stepped inside to allow his wife to pass.
“Ricki! This place is incredible,” Frankie stated, her eyes wide as she took in Ricki’s shop. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” was all Ricki said, but the blush that stained her cheeks told me that her friend’s approval meant a lot to her. “You two ready? I’ve got everything set up over here.” She gestured to the station that I had watched her meticulously assemble earlier, then check and recheck over and over until I’d had enough and dragged her away.
“Totally ready,” Frankie said enthusiastically. “I’m going first because I’m too excited.”
The women moved over to the chair where Ricki proceeded to prep Frankie for the tattoo that would be going on her shoulder blade. Enzo hovered nearby, his eyes narrowed at Easton and I as his wife removed her jacket to reveal the strapless top she wore beneath.
“Well, I’m gonna head back,” Easton said, taking the hint and slugging me lightly in the shoulder as he passed. “Catch you later, Ricki. Tillie.”
“Seriously, Enzo,” Frankie said with an eye roll, but Enzo just grunted. I couldn’t blame him; I was a possessive bastard when it came to my woman, too.
“I just love your hand tattoos,” Frankie went on, pointedly ignoring her broody husband as she admired Ricki’s hands. “The lace patterns are so delicate and feminine. Maybe I should tattoo my fingers, too.”
“No fuckin’ way,” Enzo snarled.
“And why the hell not?” Frankie bristled, her eyebrows going down. “You may be my husband, Enzo Argenti, but you don’t get a say in what I do or don’t do to my body.” Enzo stomped toward her and captured her chin in his hand, pressing a hard, claiming kiss to her mouth.
“Ain’t talking about your body, babe,” he said, holding her eyes as he reached for her hand. “But the only thing I want on your finger is my ring, so every other motherfucker around knows you’re mine.” With those words, he placed another kiss to the back of her left hand, which sported a ring with a massive black diamond.
Frankie smiled, but it was Tillie who let out a sigh like a swooning princess. When we all turned to look at her, she froze, the color draining from her face as she realized what she’d just done.
“Um,” she said, frantically reaching for the shop phone that was definitelynotringing. “Belladonna Tattoo, this is Tillie. How can I help you?”
“She’s cute,” Frankie whispered. “Where’d you find her?
As Ricki launched into the story of how Tillie came to be in her employ, Enzo and I retreated to the low black couch in the front window, each of us choosing a different corner and sitting as far from one another as possible as we watched over our women.
After a while, I straightened, clearing my throat before asking the question that had been lingering in my brain for the past two days.
“Enzo,” I said as casually as I could manage. “You didn’t ever take Javier to the hospital, did you?”
Enzo raised his head from where he had been typing away on his phone and speared me with a look, those cold gray eyes more than a little unnerving.
