CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mr. Incensed
We gorged ourselves on cheese enchiladas and chiles rellenos. I was over-stuffed when I finished, but I’d found my new favorite restaurant for comfort food.
The meal went smoothly after their little confrontation, and the women laughed and joked like old friends. We were finishing our meal when Frankie looked at me with a wicked smile, rubbing her hands together.
“How do you feel about branding James onto your body? Just something little. He did it for you. Don’t you want to return the favor?”
I should’ve known that was what she’d been plotting. She was a tattoo artist, after all. I considered her idea, not dismissing it out of hand. I was finding new ways to surprise myself daily. “What did you have in mind?” I asked her warily.
She waved Danika out of her seat. “May I borrow your back for a moment, Danika?” she asked cheerfully.
Danika just stood up and turned around as though they did this every day.
Frankie circled a small spot on the other woman’s shoulder blade. “James. Right here. Identical size, color and style as the Bianca on his chest. What do you think?”
I was shocked to find myself warming to the idea. I knew that James had done something so extreme to prove something to me, the same thing that he seemed to need me to prove to him. I took a deep breath. “The same size as his?” I asked.
Frankie whooped, sensing victory. “Yes, but on your back. I know James well enough to know that he wouldn’t like a boob tat. Let’s do this!”
Frankie had to have a brief but firm conversation with the camera crew and producer that taped her reality show. They were not going to tape this tattoo.
Blake insisted on searching the place, but I was surprised when she didn’t try to butt in when she saw what we were obviously doing. She just stood outside of the curtained area and waited for me.
In a shockingly short time I found myself lying on my stomach on Frankie’s table, my silk blouse pulled up over my shoulder, my bra unclasped. The position pushed hard on my newly pierced nipples, but I didn’t complain. I imagined that I wouldn’t even feel that pain when she started in with the needle.
“James is going to kill me,” Frankie muttered as she traced the pattern onto my back. “He’ll be mad at me for a while just for seeing and touching this much of your skin.”
Danika was giggling as she watched, a clear accessory to the crime.
“Really?” I asked Frankie, not sure if she was serious.
“Oh yeah.”
“Why?”
“He’s got you collared, Bianca. That’s some real serious shit for him. He’s possessive as all hell about every inch of you.”
“But it’s for a tattoo. I know he’ll get testy about that at first, but to get possessive about you touching my shoulder blade just seems so unreasonable.”
She laughed. “If you think that there’s anything reasonable about a Dom, you’ve been misinformed, my friend. He’s going to be incensed about this, but he’ll get over it, and I know that eventually he’ll love having his name on you.”
I sighed, thinking that she was probably right.
The tattoo was a shorter process than I thought it would be, though it was a small tattoo.
It stung, but the pain wasn’t at all as bad as I’d heard. After she’d worked on the area for just a few minutes, it all became one sort of throbbing sting, and by the end, I even liked the feeling. I understood a bit why some of my friends thought that tattoos were addictive.
Frankie showed me when she’d finished, and I felt a little thrill when I saw his name on my skin. I could get used to this, I thought. Which was good, because it was permanent.
She spread gel on the area and covered it with a small plastic film.
“Go shirtless as much as you can, at home. Let it air out. A consolation prize for James, I guess. You do have a fabulous rack.”
I sent her a look. She’d never seen my rack, but oh well, I’d take it as a compliment.
She grabbed her tiny purse, grinning at us. “I’m getting the hell outta Dodge. He won’t want to see me for a few days, so I’m going to make myself scarce. I’ll see you at the red carpet event for my show.”
“Coward!” Danika yelled at her as she took off in a hurry.
Danika walked me through the casino and to the executive offices, Blake and Henry trailing us silently. I had to stop and stare when we passed by one of the hotel’s auditoriums. It had a giant poster displayed of what the theatre featured, which was a long line of showgirls, kicking their legs high in the air, showing off all of their assets, and right smack in the middle of the picture, his arm around two of the showgirls, was a grinning James.
Danika shook her head when she saw it. “If it makes you feel any better, that was taken years ago.”
I shrugged, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many of the women in that chorus line he’d slept with.
“There seem to be a lot of things that he did years ago that just keep popping up,” I said, my tone neutral. I didn’t feel neutral, though.
She grimaced. “That sex tape… I heard about that. And just when he’s cleaned up his act. Life is funny like that, making us pay for the same stupid mistakes even after we’ve learned from them thoroughly.”
Now that sounded like a heartfelt statement. I studied her, still dying to know what had happened between her and the sexy as hell Tristan. I wouldn’t pry, though. Perhaps we’d get more chances to hang out, and someday she’d just tell me about it.
Danika walked me to the office reception before saying her goodbyes. We set up another meeting for the following week. She was coming all the way back to Vegas just to meet me again, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Reception led me immediately into James’s office, but I saw that he was busy on the phone as I walked in. Blake only followed me to the door. She didn’t seem to need to search the office, with James already there.
I sat in the chair directly in front of his desk, crossing my legs and watching him. I was torn on when to tell him about the tattoo. Should I just let him find it on his own? Chances were, if I did it that way, we’d be on the verge of having sex, and he was bound to be in a better mood about it…
James looked up, a phone to his ear. His eyes changed when he saw me, going from business-like and serious to smoldering between one blink and the next. I adored that I could put that look in his eye just by being there.
He held up a finger to me to show that he would only be another minute. I just nodded, watching him. The view never got old.
He hung up the phone and smiled at me. “We’ll go to my house from here. Stephan is out but he says he’ll crash there with us tonight. He doesn’t mind staying with us until the danger’s past.”
I was relieved, though I hadn’t really thought that Stephan would give him a hard time.
The tattoo just didn’t come up, or rather, I didn’t work up the nerve to bring it up, until he found it himself that night.
Frankie had predicted his reaction well. He was completely incensed.
He was at my back, peeling off my shirt when he spotted it.
I knew what was coming, and so I stiffened just before he did.
His eyes bored into my back for long moments before he began to curse, succinctly and fluently. He finished his tirade with an impassioned, “I’ll kill her.”
“She said you’d say that,” I told him.
That just made him curse even more. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming, when she called me up saying that you were all doing a girls’ day, and that I should keep on working. I knew she wanted to get her hands on you.”
I shot him an exasperated look. “You really think that she did all of this just so that she could very briefly touch me? She was completely professional, James.”
“I should have known she would try this, but I can’t believe that you agreed to it. What were you thinking?”
“You did the same thing for me—to prove something to me. You wanted me to see that you really were devoted to me, and that you wanted a long-term commitment. I was trying to do the same thing for you. I wanted you to see that I’m just as committed. It’s not something that should make you jealous. I branded your name on my shoulder, and all you can do is get jealous that someone else was holding the needle. I didn’t do this because Frankie wanted me to. I did it for you. We belong to each other, James, and now we both have the ink to prove it. I thought that you would love seeing your name on me.”
In terms of defusing his anger, it worked like a charm. He pressed hard against my back, murmuring into my ear. “I do love seeing that on you. How could I ever stay mad, when you say such wonderful things to me? So tell me, Bianca, just how committed are you? Committed enough to take my name and wear my ring? Devoted enough to like the sound of Bianca Cavendish?”
My heart tried to pound right out of my chest. Because I knew he wasn’t really joking, even though his tone was light. And because it didn’t only make me want to panic anymore to hear him say a thing like that. Now a picture was beginning to form in my mind of something real and sustaining for us. Perhaps what had happened to my mother hadn’t forever ruined any possibility of my own happily ever after. The thought was both encouraging and terrifying.
James didn’t wait for me to answer. He knew me too well.
He kissed my neck. “Start growing accustomed to the idea, Love, and try not to tie yourself in knots second-guessing yourself. And try to remember that I’m head over heels in love with you, and that I’ve never even come close to saying those words to another person.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered back, loving him more at that moment than I’d even thought possible. How could I ever have imagined that Mr. Beautiful could be so incredibly sensitive to my needs? It was as though he’d known me forever.
If I was surprised at how quickly he dropped the subject of the tattoo with me, I was equally unsurprised at how he didn’t drop the subject with Frankie. Even a full week later, at her show’s Vegas Strip red carpet event, James was giving her the cold shoulder.
James wore a black tux with a black shirt and white bow tie. It was very fitted, very fashion forward, very supermodel James.
I wore a little white dress with silver accents. It was short enough to be Vegas appropriate, with a halter neck that I thought was flattering, though the back came up high enough to cover my new tattoo. Unlike James, I wasn’t trying to show it off to the world right off the bat.
Shiny red heels took all of the innocence out of the color of the dress, and James seemed a little dumbstruck when I walked out of the closet in the sexy getup. The look on his face told me I’d chosen just right.
The mood of this red carpet was actually a fun vibe, as opposed to the tenser one I’d attended before. People dressed up, but it was more sexy Las Vegas dress-up than stuffy ballroom. Even Frankie decided to forgo her usual half-shirt, cutoff shorts look and wore a tiny red dress that looked sinful.
It was Frankie’s night, and she’d been thoughtful enough to extend an invitation to Stephan and Javier. James had bought them their own custom tailored tuxes, and the two men were grinning from ear to ear as we all walked the red carpet together.
Frankie rushed to hug a stiff James as soon as she spotted us at the event.
“Will you at least talk to me about it? You can’t freeze me out forever, James,” she said into his cheek.
“Oh, we’ll talk,” he told her ominously.
She just smiled, seeming to take that as a good sign.
She greeted Stephan and Javier like they were all old friends, before moving to me. She pointedly didn’t try to hug me, just bending at the waist to give me a jaunty little bow. “Bianca, the lion tamer,” she said, grinning at James.
I put a hand on his arm, wishing he would just let it go. But James was James, and he would get there in his own time.
Frankie seemed to know him well enough to see that, and gave him space.
We ran into Tristan next. He was looking debonair in a black tux as he posed for one of the photo ops. The photographers seemed to be in a frenzy to get shots of him. I shot James a puzzled look.
“Is he famous or something?” I asked.
James grinned and then laughed. “Or something. He stars in the magic show at the Cavendish property, and he’s the lead singer in a band that had two hit singles last year. It doesn’t make me even a little bit sad that you aren’t a fan of his.”
Tristan turned to us the instant he finished with the shots. He grinned that wicked grin of his from ear to ear when he saw me.
He moved as though to hug me the second he got within our reach, but James was expecting that. James moved in between us, catching the other man in a bear hug and saying something that I couldn’t make out into his ear.
Tristan just threw his head back and laughed.
The two men were of the same height, but Tristan had James beat in bulk. Where James was ripped but elegant, Tristan looked like a linebacker in a suit.
James pulled away from the other man, and moved me very obviously into his body, shielding me. I thought it was ridiculous, but it still made me smile.
I gave Tristan a little wave.
He bent forward in a solicitous bow, but his wicked eyes never left my face, and his smile didn’t falter. He flashed one of his dangerous dimples my way.
“So no touching,” he said in his deep, rich voice. “Can I at least see her tattoo? I heard all about it. I heard her back was lovely, just like the rest of her.”
He was clearly baiting James, but he still got an unexpected giggle out of me. The man was outrageous.
James agreed with me, and he was not nearly as upset with the other man’s comments as I’d thought he’d be. “Outrageous bastard,” he muttered, but with little heat. Perhaps being deliberately baited had made him see how over the top possessive he was being. Or perhaps the two men were better friends than I’d realized. Who knew with Mr. Beautiful?
We introduced Tristan to Stephan and Javier. Of course, Stephan knew who he was. He was the media savvy of the two of us. I didn’t know how I’d been so clueless as to his identity. If he had a headlining show in Vegas, there must have been billboards for him everywhere. I made a note to keep an eye out for his ads.
My suspicion that James and Tristan were actually close friends was reaffirmed at the way the two men joked and generally gave each other shit for a solid twenty minutes amidst the red carpet chaos. Only good friends could give each other that much grief without any real low blows. Tristan had to know about the sex tape, everyone seemed to, but he never mentioned it. Most of his jabs involved talking about how pretty James was, which didn’t bother James at all.
And James never mentioned Danika, who I had discerned right away was Tristan’s own sore spot. Most of the jabs aimed Tristan’s way were comments about ‘singing magicians’, which only seemed to make Tristan smile.
At one point Tristan ran his hand through his hair, then pointedly checked his watch, which looked familiar. “Are you about done harassing me, pretty boy?” he asked.
James cursed, then held out his hand. “Give me my watch back,” he said.
Tristan waved the watch at him. “It’s almost my birthday. Can’t we just call it even?”
James shook his head, grinning. “I don’t like you that much.”
Tristan was handing it back to him when his expression became arrested, his eyes moving to look at something behind us. Something raw moved behind those golden depths that seemed impossibly sad for the charismatic man.
I glanced behind us.
Danika approached. She was looking at us, not at Tristan, but she seemed different than I’d ever seen her, more stiff, her limp more pronounced. If I hadn’t known these two had a history, I would have quickly caught on by the way they changed when in each other’s vicinity.
She wore a long silver gown that hugged her perfect figure like a glove. Her straight, blue-black hair was parted down the middle and hanging down her back. The severe and simple style brought out the elegance of her face, the rosebud lips, the high-cheekbones, and those stunning, pale-gray eyes.
Danika strode directly to me, bestowing a kiss on my cheek. She was unsmiling but polite down to her toes. “So lovely to see you again, Bianca.”
She nodded to James, who introduced her to Stephan and Javier.
“Hello, Danika,” Tristan said softly, after all of the introductions had been made.
She nodded in his general direction, but didn’t look at him. “Hello, Tristan.”
“It’s great to see you,” he told her. “You look exquisite, as always.”
She smiled tightly. “Sure,” she said.
A man approached her from behind, wrapping a hand around her waist and smiling warmly. He was about my height, with medium brown hair and a light build. He was handsome, in a nondescript kind of way, but I thought that he complimented Danika well. They made an elegant couple.
She touched his shoulder lightly. “Everyone, this is Andrew.”
“Her boyfriend,” Andrew added.
She gave us another tight smile, then introduced the group to him.
I snuck one glance at Tristan, but the way he was looking at Danika was so blatant and raw that I quickly looked away. Being around the two of them felt like overhearing a couple’s worst fight. It felt like we should all excuse ourselves and leave them alone to sort things out, Andrew included.
Danika and Andrew quickly made their excuses and moved on.
Tristan quickly followed suit. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go punch something now, so that I don’t give in to the urge to punch someone.” With that telling remark, he strode away.
“I take it there’s beef between Tristan and Andrew?” I made it a question.
James shrugged. “I don’t know that they’ve ever met before. I think it’s just the beef that Tristan would have with any man that Danika might date. He’s been in love with her since I met him. For five years, at least. Poor bastard.”