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“You like your gift, baby? I thought it was a good way to carry hope with you everywhere you go.”
He smiles my way, approaching the table. “I love it.”
He sees it as a sweet sentiment but to me it's so much more. It's proof of ownership. Him having his skin marked with something that makes him think of me sends me on a new high, giving me more claim to his body.
The man gets him disinfected and gets everything else ready before placing the stencil on his skin. I take a seat on a gray stool, waiting to watch him become more mine.
Epilogue
Iggy
Fourweekslater
“Happy birthday, Daddy,” I say, throwing my arms around his neck.
“Thank you, Little Dove.” He presses a gentle kiss into my neck. “You taking me out on a romantic dinner tonight?”
I smirk, rubbing my nose to his. “I thought we could order in instead and take dinner to bed.”
“Sounds perfect to me. When were you planning to order?”
I shrug, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “I was thinking in a few hours. I want to give you your gift first.”
He inhales deeply, his breath releasing slowly as he takes a step back. “Okay. I have to take care of something first. I might have a lead on my brother and have to check in with a possible source.”
“I can always—”
“No,” he says too abruptly. “I don't want any of your friends getting involved.”
“They aren't my friends. They work for me.”
“I don't care. They are linked to your father, and if he doesn't already know, I’d rather him not be aware that my brother’s missing.”
“No one has seen my dad in weeks. He's probably hanging low in Mexico somewhere. He's a wanted man and isn't stupid enough to stick around here.”
“Yeah, maybe you're right.” His eyes roam everywhere but me. “Or maybe he's two places at once. Then there's Lennon—”
“He's not going to cause us trouble anymore,” I say.
His head tilts. “Do you know something I don't?”
“Come with me real quick and then you can do whatever you need to do in the office.” I take his hand and tug on it.
He scratches the side of his head and allows me to drag him toward the garage.
“Where are we going?” His steps come to a halt when we walk past the washer and dryer.
“Your present is in here,” I say, pulling him into the frigid room.
“Why not in the house?”
I lead him to a large box covered in red wrapping paper. “I didn't want it to leak inside and potentially ruin the flooring.”
He lifts a brow, kneeling on the ground. “What is it? Something with liquid inside?”
“You could say that.” I grin. “Go ahead, open it.”
Eyeing me wearily, he peels back the wrapping paper slowly until a cardboard box is revealed underneath. Opening the top, he leans back, his nose wrinkling. “What's that smell?”
