Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Iris

I dip the needle into the pot of dark teal ink, focusing intently on the intricate lotus blossom taking shape on my client’s bare skin.

Just a few more petals and highlights to finish this section.

But I can’t seem to lose myself fully in my work like I usually do.

Not with Lyon’s brooding presence looming over my shoulder, his eyes tracking my every movement.

I grit my teeth and try to block him out, determined not to let him ruin my flow.

This full floral back piece has been both a challenge and a joy to design and execute over the last few sessions with my client.

I refuse to let Lyon’s petty bullshit sabotage that.

Ignoring the prickling sensation of his stare, I refine a few delicate brushstrokes of lime green in the lotus center.

My client sighs contentedly, her shoulders relaxing as she sinks deeper into the chair.

At least she seems at peace, even if I’m a bundle of agitation under the surface.

I risk a glance over my shoulder and sure enough, there’s Lyon—arms crossed over his tattooed chest, leaning against the doorframe like he owns the place.

Which, I suppose he does, being my boss and all.

But that doesn’t give him free rein to crowd my space and distract me while I’m with a client.

My fingers tighten on the tattoo machine as I pivot back to my work, jaw clenched.

I’ve put up with his lurking and loaded comments ever since our breakup a few weeks ago.

His weak attempts to win me back, or punish me for leaving him, I’m not entirely sure.

But I’m over it. Over him.

I manage to zone out and make decent progress over the next half hour, the familiar hum and buzz of the machine drowning out my thoughts.

Soothing me as the design gradually comes to life in vibrant hues against tan skin.

Almost done with this session. If I can just...

The floorboards creak as Lyon shifts his weight, sending a jolt of irritation up my spine.

That’s it. I’ve fucking had it.

Setting down the tattoo machine with exaggerated calm, I spin in my chair to face him head on. “Do you need something, Lyon? Because you’re being incredibly distracting and unprofessional right now.”

His brows lift at my sharp tone, but a smug smile tugs at his pierced lips. “Just admiring your technique, darlin’. No crime in that, is there?”

“There is when you’re hovering nonstop and I’m trying to concentrate,” I retort through my teeth, conscious of my client listening in. “I’m with a client. So either tell me what you want or kindly fuck off until I’m done here.”

Lyon pushes off the doorframe and adjusts his backwards snapback, that annoying smirk still plastered on his face. “Damn, you’re so hostile, Iris. I just wanted to talk to you about something. But I can see you’re...busy, and you don’t want me admirin’ your work.”

His gaze rakes down my tank top and ripped jeans in a way that makes my skin crawl before he meets my glare again. “Find me when you’re done here, yeah? We’ll have that talk.”

With that, he pivots and saunters off, leaving me stewing.

The audacity.

As if I’m at his fucking beck and call.

I suck in a deep breath and force myself to unclench my jaw.

Get it together, Iris.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter to my bemused client, Rosa. “Man doesn’t have any boundaries. Let me touch up a few spots and then I think we’ll be good for today.”

Rosa hums sympathetically as I pick up the machine again with hands that tremble slightly. “Sounded like your ex? What an ass. I don’t know how you put up with that bullshit. Hot as he is.”

A harsh laugh punches out of me.

If she only knew.

The swagger and bad boy ink hid a mean, manipulative streak that could turn on a dime.

“He’s my boss too. Makes it extra fun,” I say tightly, biting my tongue against the full shit-talking session I’d love to indulge in. “But I don’t intend to put up with it much longer. Just gotta line up another job first.”

“Mmm, I hear that. You’re talented as hell though. You won’t have any trouble finding a new shop.” Rosa lifts her head to catch my eye, her expression suddenly sly. “You know, a bunch of us dancers could use a good tattoo artist. One who gets our style, does cover-ups and touch-ups, that kinda thing. If you ever want an intro at the club...”

I raise my brows, intrigued in spite of myself.

I've done plenty of ink on strippers and sex workers.

They tend to be great clients—easygoing, fun, with a bold aesthetic and high pain tolerance.

And discreet as hell, which I can certainly appreciate.

“That’s...tempting, actually.” I flash her a considering smile as I finish the final highlight with a flourish. “Might just take you up on it if shit goes sideways here. Which, given that little scene, is a definite possibility.”

We share a knowing look as I wipe down the fresh ink and sit back to survey the piece with a critical eye.

The lotus and lush greenery wrap seamlessly around her ribs and shoulder blade, the jewel tones popping against her bronzed skin.

Not bad at all.

After snapping a few pics for my portfolio, I cover the piece and give Rosa the usual spiel about aftercare.

We head up front to settle the bill, and she leans on the counter with a wink as she hands me her card. “I’m serious, Iris. Satin Dreams could use a girl like you. For ink and...other things. Think about it.”

Her tone is light but the implication unmistakable.

I swallow and nod, slipping the card in my back pocket as we say our goodbyes.

Heading back to clean my station, I feel the first real spark of excitement I’ve had in weeks.

A new opportunity.

A chance to get the fuck out of this toxic hellhole and away from Lyon’s clutches.

It’s almost too good to be true.

But first, I need to deal with the steaming pile of bullshit waiting for me in his office.

Squaring my shoulders, I stalk down the hall and push through the door without knocking.

Time to lance this fucking boil once and for all.

“All right, asshole,” I bite out, not bothering to hide my seething resentment. “You wanted to talk. So talk. But make it quick, because I have zero patience left for your fucking games today.”

Lyon looks up from his desk, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers like some bargain-bin Bond villain.

“Is that any way to talk to your boss, Iris? I’d think you’d show a little more...appreciation for all I’ve done for you.”

I bark out a laugh, crossing my arms. “Appreciation? For what, exactly? Constantly undermining me in front of clients? Treating me like your personal plaything? Yeah, I’m just overflowing with fucking gratitude over here.”

He stands abruptly, chair screeching against the floor.

In two strides he’s right in front of me, invading my space.

I force myself to stand my ground, tilting my chin up defiantly.

“You ungrateful bitch,” he sneers, breath hot on my face. “I gave you a fucking job when no one else would take a chance on you. I put a roof over your head. And this is how you repay me?”

“Oh, cry me a river,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “You gave me a job so you could keep me under your thumb. The apartment was just another way to control me. Well, guess what? I’m done being your little puppet.”

His face contorts with rage and his hand shoots out, wrapping around my throat.

I gasp as he slams me back against the wall, spots dancing in my vision.

“You’re nothing without me, you hear me?” he growls, fingers tightening. “Nothing but a trashy little gutter rat. No one else will ever want you.”

Rage and adrenaline surge through my veins.

I bring my knee up sharply, slamming it into his groin.

He doubles over with a grunt and I shove him away, sending him stumbling back.

“Fuck you, Lyon,” I rasp out, massaging my bruised throat. “I’m so fucking done with your abuse and your bullshit. I quit. Good luck finding another idiot willing to put up with you.”

I’m furious and I can’t resist muttering under my breath as I go by. “I hope you get shot on one of your runs for the club, you abusive piece of shit.”

It’s petty and meaningless, I know.

But it’s the only bit of retaliation I have left.

My life is in shambles, my future uncertain.

All I can do now is pick up the pieces and try to start over.

Somehow, some way, I’ll claw my way back to the top.

And when I do, I’ll make damn sure Lyon regrets the day he ever crossed me.

This isn't the end of my story. It's just the beginning of a new chapter.

Turning on my heel, I stalk out of the office, slamming the door behind me.

I'm shaking as I gather up my supplies, shoving them haphazardly into my bag.

Rosa’s business card feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket.

Satin Dreams.

My ticket out of this nightmare.

I just pray I’m not jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire.

But hell, it can’t possibly be worse than this.

With one last look around the shop, I shoulder my bag and head for the door.

Mysterious Ink and Lyon are officially in my rearview.

It’s time to see what the future holds.

I push the door open, blinking against the harsh Montana weather.

As I head for my car, I can't help but wonder if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

As I climb into my car, my tires squeal as I peel out of the parking lot, my heart pounding in my chest.

I never look back at Mysterious Ink, the place where my naive dreams of true love and an easy life shattered like so much broken glass.

The sun’s starting to set as I drive away, casting long shadows over the city.

It’s a new beginning, a chance to start fresh.

And I take comfort in the fact that, no matter what the future holds, it can’t possibly be as crazy as the past few weeks have been.

As I merge onto the freeway, I turn up the radio and sing along to the defiant anthem blaring through the speakers.

Tears of rage and frustration prick at the corners of my eyes but I blink them back fiercely.

I can’t believe I’m fucking crying right now.

I know Lyon…if I didn’t quit he was going to fire me.

God, I can’t believe how this day has gone.

I pull up to Allegra's house, gravel crunching under the tires as I park my beat-up Honda out front.

Grabbing my duffel bag of tattooing supplies and a garbage bag with my clothes, I head for the front door, anxiety and anger still coursing through my veins.

As I reach for the doorknob, it swings open.

I’m greeted by a sight that makes my heart skip a beat—Viper. All 6'4" of dark, dangerous, sinfully sexy billionaire, filling the doorway with his broad shoulders and piercing gaze.

“Iris.” His deep voice rolls over me like honey. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

I brush past him, not trusting myself to speak without either screaming or bursting into tears.

I drop my bags on the floor with a thud.

“Yeah, well, plans change,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I quit the tattoo shop.”

Viper's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. “You did what?!”

I collapse onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. “You heard me. That asshole was going to fire me if I didn’t quit. Hell, he already took my apartment, everything I had in there.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Guess he figured if he couldn't have me, he’d make damn sure I had nothing.”

Viper crosses the room in two long strides, crouching down in front of me.

He takes my hands in his, his touch gentle but firm. “Iris, look at me.”

I drag my gaze up to meet his, seeing my own pain reflected back at me.

Along with something else...something fierce and protective and almost primal.