Luciano DeRose looked exactly like he did in the magazines. Big, bearded, and hair slightly lighter in color than Antonio’s. Evie was only a little starstruck. After learning that Ricochet had been bought by the same DeRose from Thorn Tattoo, she knew it was probable that one of the superstar artists would make an appearance. But to see Luciano in person was something different altogether. The man was a genius, and the fact that he was interested in looking at her work was both humbling and terrifying.

Evie suddenly felt as if she wasn’t good enough.

“Let’s see.” Luciano hummed as he looked over her shoulder. “You’re into realistic stuff?”

“Portraits,” Evie said with a nod. “I love them so much. I think there’s nothing more important than reproducing a moment in time, a memory… it’s a real honor, you know? I still sometimes can’t believe that someone would come seek me out with a piece of their memories, asking me to put it on their skin forever.”

“You do a lot of black and white,” Luciano remarked. He picked up a photo and looked it over in close detail. Evie watched him, transfixed. It was surreal that one of the top artists in the United States was looking over her work. “It’s good stuff. Solid grasp of shading, not too dark, looks good healed… and you capture small details well. In realism, it’s so easy to botch the little things and completely change someone’s face.”

“I have a lot of pride in what I do,” Evie said. She meant it. She took tattooing seriously. Everything she did in life, she invested herself in. Everything but leading.

There was no way she was getting up to that again.

“You’re a perfectionist,” Luciano assessed.

“I just don’t like to fail.” She pursed her lips and pointed to one of her other pieces. “This one? I wish I had the reference picture to show you. It was dark as all hell and a little blurry—pretty much every artist’s worst nightmare. I knew it wasn’t going to transcribe well, but as an artist, I feel it’s my responsibility to give the client what they want. So going on gut and a few light reference images I found on the internet, I changed this dark, sort of blurry photograph into a tattoo that anyone would be proud of.”

Luciano set the first picture down and picked up the one she’d been pointing at. “It’s a kid,” he said softly.

“Yeah.” Evie nodded. “It was a huge job. A big deal. I’m so proud of myself for that one.”

“Kids are hard to get right.” Luciano’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the picture. “I don’t have the photo for reference, but it looks incredible. It doesn’t look awkward, or strangely proportioned, like so many other tattoos of young kids do.”

“That means a lot. Thank you.” Evie grinned. “I go with my gut, you know? It’s such an important thing as an artist, to have good instincts. Personally, I think I have it in droves.”

“I’d say you do.” Luciano traced his fingers over the image. “If you didn’t tell me you composed the lighting on this yourself, I would have thought it was an exact replica of a photograph you received. The light in the eyes, the skin tone… all is masterfully done.”

It felt so good to hear. Evie sat up a little straighter, beaming. “Thank you.”

“You deserve the praise. I don’t give it where it’s undue.” Luciano shrugged. He set the picture down. “So, what do you think of the renovations?”

“You mean the paint and the new pictures on the wall?” She gave him a hard look. “It’s nice, I guess. It’s brightened the place up. I kind of like the new setup at the front desk. It’s charming. The displays are really nice.”

“But?” Luciano laughed. “I can hear it in here, waiting to come out.”

Luciano was nothing like his brother. It was hard to imagine the two of them were related. Luciano was fun, and light, and sarcastic. He wasn’t afraid to show emotion. Antonio, on the other hand….

Evie wasn’t sure she’d ever get that man. He drove her crazy in both the best and the worst ways possible.

“I don’t know. I guess I was expecting more. It’s not every day that your tattoo studio gets bought out by Thorn Tattoo, you know? And Thorn’s got such a small space because it’s on the strip and rent’s through the roof that I thought more would be going on here.”

“Such as?”

“You really want to hear all my ideas?” Evie arched a brow, grinning. “We’ll probably be here all day.”

“Tell me the best ones,” Luciano replied. He winked. “Not that I don’t want to hear all of them, but if it’s legit going to take all day… not sure I want to stick around for that.”

Evie snorted. When Antonio came out of his shell, would he be as fun? She hoped so. Her gut told her that beneath his frigid exterior, Antonio was a good guy—someone she’d get along with. Okay, more than get along with.

Memories of the way she’d touched his skin while looking at his unfinished tattoo consumed her. Another shiver worked down her spine and she jumped when he suddenly popped his head back into the tattoo bay.

“We’ll need to work on my back piece another time. We didn’t get a complete order and the vendor can’t get another driver out today,” Antonio told her. From the firm set of his lips, Evie could tell he was fuming.

“Okay, boss, but so you know, I’m not going to let you have an unfinished tattoo. So, we will do this.”

“Huh, and here I thought hell would freeze over before you ever finished it,” Luciano chimed in, laughing. Antonio didn’t bother to reply and merely flipped his brother off, which only made him laugh harder.

After Antonio left, Luciano elbowed her. “Gio and I have been bugging him for years to finish that piece. If you can do it, you’ll have pulled off a miracle.”

Evie grinned. Maybe he really was coming out of his shell.

“Hey, still waiting on those ideas,” Luciano chided her.

Evie nodded, sitting up a little straighter again. “Well, an art gallery for starters. Maybe just a little room, maybe some kind of fusion sitting room, for when clients are waiting, but I think it’d be really cool to have the place set up with all of our artists’ pieces. Hanging from the wall, sitting on easels, I don’t know, maybe on some kind of partition or something? With nice, red leather couches, and black tables. Make it something really visually stunning.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Luciano grinned. “Go on.”

“The tattoo bays need to be bigger,” she said. “It was a problem when we were Ricochet, and it’s still a problem now. If we could get rid of the stupid storage closets at the end that we don’t really use, we could move all the walls back some, and give the artists that much more space. I really think it would be to our advantage. I’m sure you know what it’s like to feel as though you have space to make a place your own. I want to put a potted plant in the corner and just Zen this place out, but I use every inch of floor space as it is, and I don’t need a plant in the way.”

Luciano nodded.

“And obviously finding someone for the front desk is important. I don’t know why it’s taking so long. But if we’re going to be hiring people, and if we have the budget to expand, I’d like to see at least twice as many artists come on. Maybe just part time, or whatever, but the more hands the better, in my opinion. We’re always busy here, and I know you guys are always busy at Thorn Tattoo, and I really think we’d benefit from more talent. And while I’m at it, all of us here should have our own assistants. I think part of the problem with finding someone to run the front desk is that it’s so much work for comparatively little money. Having a good assistant who knows their shit is vital; we wouldn’t have scheduling conflicts anymore, delays in bookings, or trouble getting in touch with someone about their appointment or anything, because our assistants would be on it. And really, if someone could run out and grab me a coffee while I’m ankle deep in a tattoo would probably make my week.”

Luciano laughed. “Yeah. Assistants kind of rock. Mine’s going to be having my baby in six months.”

“No way!” Evie’s eyes brightened, and she smiled. “Congrats. I guess it’s too early to tell what sex it is?”

“Yeah, a little. We’re going to find out soon. Got a feeling it’s a girl, though.”

The way he puffed up with love and pride was inspiring. Evie hadn’t even considered having a family, but her mind started to drift as she considered the possibility. Having a really cool little kid to take care of sounded like a sweet deal. She liked to think she’d be a cool mom, chill enough to have a good time, but not so lax with the rules that the house was chaos.

And with someone like Antonio co-parenting, there would be absolutely no skirting by without consequences.

Evie’s thoughts derailed. Was she seriously having that internal conversation with herself? It was insane to think of Antonio like that.

But when she saw his brother so proud and excited to be a father, it made her reconsider what she thought of the oldest DeRose brother.

“So assistants? Totally cool?”

“I’d say.” Luciano grinned. “Anything else to add to your grand scheme?”

“Yeah. One more thing.” She nodded. “I’ve only seen this once at this really sick shop in the Florida Keys. I don’t even remember the name of it anymore, but I’m sure if you google it, it’d pop right up. There was the regular tattoo studio, right? With the front desk, and the tattoo bays, and everything normal, but then there was this doorway leading to this area in the back that felt like it should have been employees only, and if you took the stairs up, you found yourself in this…” She paused, trying to find the right word. “This lounge, except not really. It was kind of like in a movie theater, where you’ve got all the rows and they’re rising one behind the other, maybe three rows to a section. But anyway, it’s just this walkway with glass walls overlooking this room below, like a…”

“A show box,” Luciano said. “Like an old-fashioned surgical auditorium.”

“Yeah!” Evie nodded. “That was exactly what it looked like. The tattoo artist did live demonstrations down there, and it was set up with cameras and big screens in the seated part of the room so you could see in detail what was going on. People used to go there to watch, even just normal people off the streets. It was super informative. I think they made their money off selling concessions, like snacks and drinks. I mean, you’re not bringing in the big dollars on those, but the sell through and the exposure for the artists? I think that’s so important. You know people would be lining up to book appointments on that table. You’d make your money back in booked appointments. Plus it generates hype and interest in the shop. I just thought it was so cool.”

“No, I agree.” Luciano nodded. “I worked at a place like that in New York, and it was awesome. You’ve got some pretty great ideas.”

“You’re trying to flatter me now,” Evie said flatly. Still, she felt incredible. “I’m on to you.”

Luciano shrugged. “Believe what you want. I tell it like it is. So I’m going to be forward and say I have no idea why you’re turning down the position of head artist here. Antonio told me he’s been offering it to you. I think you’d be a great fit.”

The other shoe dropped. Evie shook her head, no longer feeling all that great. “I don’t want to take it. I’m not a good leader.”

“Why not?” Luciano asked. “Listening to your ideas just now? It’s clear to me that you’ve got the interests of all the artists in the shop in mind, not just your own. I talk to so many artists who are so self-absorbed they can’t even think of the bigger picture, but here you are advocating for their best interests without so much as thinking about yourself. That’s what a head artist does, you know.”

“It’s a part of what a head artist does,” she argued. “Listen, I already went through all this with Antonio, and I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not interested in taking the position. I’m not fit for it.”

“You keep saying that, but from what I’m seeing here.” Luciano gestured to her designs. “Sounds like you’re just making excuses. I did the same for years, trying to run away from something from my past. What’re you running from?”

With Antonio, Evie was steadfast, like she had a point to prove in her silence. With Luciano, she felt like she could open up a little. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She wasn’t self-conscious when he was around. She knew he liked her art, and she didn’t think it was a ploy to butter her up so she’d accept Antonio’s offer.

She caved.

“When I was younger, in my teens, I was a gymnast instead of an artist.”

“Oh?” Luciano looked surprised. “Go on.”

“I’d been training almost all my life. I don’t even remember how I got started. My mom said that when I was six, I begged her nonstop to take me to ribbon twirling class after seeing it during the summer Olympics, and really, that sounds kind of stupid, right? But it’s not just about the ribbon.”

To a six-year-old, the ribbon was a big determining factor, though.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Luciano said with a laugh.

“It’s really not. Most of it is about the dance aspect, and even the dance aspect is heavily tied to gymnastics. You’re looking at things like flips, cartwheels, rolls… it’s all very beautiful, but it’s all very skillful, too. The gymnast’s ability is what makes it so effortless looking.”

Thinking about those days was difficult. Gymnastics had been her life, and in a small way, it still was. During her down time, Evie still went to the gym. She even taught a gymnastics class on Monday nights.

“So at six, I joined because of the ribbon, but by the time I was seven, I was addicted to the feeling of springing through the air. There’s nothing in the world like launching yourself across a mat, flipping and twisting and knowing that everything you do is something normal people couldn’t ever hope to achieve. By the time I was a teenager, I was on a competitive team—the kind that goes to competitions around the world. I was on the fast track to being in the Olympics.”

“No shit,” Luciano breathed. “That’s awesome. So you went?”

“No.” Evie laughed ruefully. “No, I didn’t. We were at state championships and there were college scouts there along with coaches looking to add Olympic qualifiers to their roster. I was the leader of my team, and I was the last one up. Our collective score was competitive with the other teams, but we needed something to put us over the edge. I knew that there was some wiggle room in my routine, and that I could attempt some incredibly difficult moves in order to score higher, but if I messed it up, I’d be the reason we lost. My gut told me that I needed to risk it all, but my coach told me not to. He was adamant that I not risk making a mistake but I knew I could do it.”

“Did you?” As she talked, Luciano scooted closer to her as she was brought back to that fateful day.

“Almost.”

“Almost? How?”

Evie chuckled. “My coach figured out that I wasn’t going to listen and he made a point of standing close to the mat, so every time I was about to do something different, it was as if he was right there with me. I started getting really angry and it was all down to my final sequence.”

“And?”

“I went for it and completely blew the landing, spraining my ankle in the process. The points deducted were enough to drop us from third to fifth. My coach was so pissed, he yelled at me in front of everyone including some college recruiters.”

Luciano looked winded as he rubbed at his head. “Wow. And your ankle?”

“Oh, it was fine after a few weeks of rest and some rehab, but word got around that I didn’t listen to my coach and that was why we lost. I ended up getting passed over for scholarships, which meant I wouldn’t be able to afford college.”

As she talked, Evie didn’t realize that she’d wrapped her arms around her body. Even more than a decade later, she still felt horrible about what happened.

“So I don’t want to lead any kind of team,” she said, redirecting the conversation. “I don’t want to be held responsible for failing so many people. I don’t want anyone to be disappointed in me, or regret their decision in choosing me as a representative. I’m not the right girl for the job.”

“You know,” Luciano said softly, “you’re totally entitled to feel that way, but I’d encourage you to look at the situation from another angle. First, you said yourself how important going with your gut is and you have taken risks. You do every time you pick up a tattoo gun and put something permanent on someone’s body. I don’t know about you, but when I execute a tricky design or see how happy I’ve made someone, there’s nothing better than that contact high when I see that smile on their face.”

Evie pursed her lips. She didn’t want to admit that he was right.

“And second? Seriously, for as much as I give him a hard time, Antonio is really great at a lot of things. He’s superb at balancing risk and reward. He makes good decisions. The great thing about being head artist is that you’re responsible for what happens with your crew, but you also don’t have to make any of those hard choices. You, the manager, and Antonio are going to be the ones deciding on them together. At least the big choices. So why not take it? You’re not going to be out there on your own.”

“He’s right, you know,” Antonio said softly from the doorway. Evie jumped. She hadn’t seen him there, and she had no idea how much of the conversation he’d heard. She found herself suddenly mortified. “You’d have support from the whole team. You’d never have to make a hard decision alone.”

It was too much. Evie bowed her head and stood on shaking legs. With all the memories dredged up from the past, she wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

Not with a man she wanted so badly to impress.

“I just realized I’ve gotta go pick up some ink before my next client arrives. Super great meeting you, Luciano. Hope to see you around soon.”

“Uh, yeah, you too,” Luciano said.

Evie bolted.

On her way out the door, she brushed by Antonio. Another shiver ran down her spine, and as soon as she was safe in the back room, she pushed her back against the wall and let herself exhale a long, quivering breath.

She was in over her head—way over her head—and she had no idea what to do about it.