Riley was avoiding him. Every time Giovanni headed her way, she perked her head and hurried to be somewhere else. At the end of the day, she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door before even Mal and Jaime had left. Every day until that point, Riley had stayed behind to help with cleanup and to supervise balancing the till.

It was the lead-up to rejection, Giovanni realized with mild dread. Riley was too afraid to continue tattooing on a regular basis, and if she didn’t fill in that spot they so desperately needed, then Giovanni had no idea how the hell they were going to keep Thorn Tattoo open. The workshops were going well, but it meant he needed extra help around the shop. If Riley wasn’t willing to pitch in and tattoo, even when she was able to, they’d reached an impasse.

He didn’t want to fire her, but the business was bleeding. If she wasn’t going to help patch up its wounds, then she was part of the problem.

All of it felt underhanded, and it tore Giovanni’s heart in two. He’d seen the joy on her face in the middle of an inking, and he knew she loved it. The warm smile, the softness in her eyes, and the confidence in her hand were physical manifestations of the elation he felt whenever he put needle to skin. But Giovanni couldn’t ask her simply to get over the trauma from her past. It was clear her relationship with her parents was strained, if not non-existent, and she’d lost her best friend well before her time.

Amanda Fucking Tate. Of all the people she could have trained under. He remembered her from a couple tattoo cons, she’d been completely detached preferring to concentrate on her canvases than socialize with anyone. The fact that she’d apprenticed Riley was huge. It meant that she’d seen something in her and encouraged her. Too bad her fucking father had to ruin it. Giovanni couldn’t even consider how big Riley would have been now if she’d continued rather than quitting.

Granted, then, he never would have met her. Touched her. Tasted her. The woman was perfect and she didn’t even know it.

Giovanni couldn’t blame her for being afraid to tattoo, but he couldn’t keep overlooking the facts. Since she’d arrived, Riley had told him he needed to stop being so impulsive and emotional, that keeping his mind on business and profits would serve him better. Now that insistence was her downfall. Giovanni needed all hands on deck, and Riley was shying away from doing her part.

It was a tough choice, a damn tough choice, and it wasn’t one he was going to make easily.

Giovanni left his office to help Mal and Jaime close up shop. They’d been tattooing until the end, and there was still cleanup to do. An extra hand would go a long way.

As they scrubbed and disinfected and capped ink in silence, Mal looked Giovanni’s way and frowned a little, something obviously on his mind. Giovanni looked at him, busy wiping down the client chair. “What is it?”

“Is Riley going to tattoo?” Mal asked. “The girl’s a fucking genius with a needle. Hell, I’m jealous.”

“I want her to,” Giovanni said. “But in the end, it’s up to her. I can’t force her hand either way, but I’m hoping she comes around. The shop needs her. If she doesn’t….”

“No.” Mal stopped what he was doing to glower at Giovanni. “I know that tone. You’re not thinking about letting her go over this, are you?”

“The final decision is Antonio’s.” Giovanni grit his jaw. It sounded like Mal was accusing him of this, as if Giovanni wanted it to happen. If Thorn Tattoo were doing better, he would have kept Riley on in a heartbeat. Anyone with eyes could tell she loved what she did and she was passionate about the shop and its success.

The problem was money. The problem was always money.

“Fuck, Gio!” Mal narrowed his eyes. “She’s a good employee and she’s done a lot for the shop. Without her, we wouldn’t have the workshops. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s talented, and—”

“You don’t need to argue her case. I know all the details already,” Giovanni growled. Mal backed down immediately. “It’s not a decision I want to make, but it’s what’s best for the shop. Since Riley got here, she’s been on my back about doing what’s best for the business. If we want to keep our doors open, I have to get my head around the financial side. This is the only wise financial move I can make.”

“It sucks, man,” Mal murmured. “I didn’t really like her when she first came in, but she’s grown on me. I think she has a lot of potential, and I wish you’d keep her on. I know it’s out of your hands, but….”

“I’ll see what Antonio says.” Giovanni didn’t want to discuss Riley’s job security any more. “I’m meeting up with him later. When it boils down to it, it’s his decision to make. All I can do is ask him for guidance and see what he says.”

Managing Thorn Tattoo gave Giovanni freedom, but not as much as he would have liked. Independence was an illusion. The ball was in Antonio’s court, and Giovanni had to wait to see what his next move would be.

It wrecked him on the inside.

There was so much he wanted to change, and so much he wished was different. Riley didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. She had a bright future, if only she’d let herself reach for it. Giovanni would rather leave and give her his spot than force her out.

All of it was a mess.

“Low,” Mal muttered. “She deserves better.”

“I know she does,” Giovanni snarled, anger peaking again. He didn’t need Mal reminding him of his shortcomings. More than anything, he wanted Riley to be happy. The woman had swept into his life like a hurricane, bested him in ways he’d never imagined she was capable of, and then burned out like a candle that shone too bright. “Drop it, Mal. I’m done talking about it. It is what it is.”

Angry, Giovanni stalked across the room to grab a tray of tools that needed a run in the autoclave. On his way, he failed to notice a slick of slipped ink on the floor. One second he stormed toward the tools that needed to be sterilized, and the next he was toppling backward as he lost all traction.

With a startled grunt, he tried his best to turn himself around and land on his front instead of his back. In the process, Giovanni reached out a hand to brace himself. The second he hit the ground, he knew it was a mistake. The full weight of his body smashed down on his wrist, and his whole hand snapped back at an unnatural angle as the rest of his body pinned it.

He roared as blinding pain shot up his arm and heated his blood. The feeling was unbearable, like millions of shards of jagged glass were digging into his wrist and arm at once. Nerve endings on fire, his whole body started to tense as pain washed through him. Giovanni barely found the strength to roll over and clutch his injured wrist to his chest. It was still bent at an unnatural angle, and he couldn’t move it.

“Holy shit,” Mal gasped. He dropped to Giovanni’s side and looked him over. “Holy shit, your wrist! Gio!”

“I can fucking see my wrist!” Giovanni hissed between clenched teeth. “I need a fucking doctor, Mal, not your casual observations.”

“It has to be broken.” Mal staggered to his feet. “Shit. Do you think you can stand? I’ll drive you to the hospital, but you’ve gotta be able to get to your feet first. There’s no way I can lift you.”

All Giovanni wanted to do was lie on the floor and scream through the pain, but he knew he had to suck it up. Without directly replying to Mal, he rose to his feet, wobbling. Mal reached out and supported him from beneath his arms. Even the slightest movement sent white-hot waves of pain through Giovanni’s arm, and every step was agony.

Teeth clenched, eyes shut tight, he took in a rattling breath and tried to speak normally. “I’m gonna need your help to get to the door. It fucking hurts.”

“It has to be broken,” Mal repeated himself, panic in his voice. “Hell, Gio, it’s your right hand. What the hell are you going to do? We need you around the shop to tattoo. You can’t do that with a broken wrist.”

Life couldn’t get any more complicated. Giovanni’s panic immediately turned into rage, but he channeled it out through choppy exhalations. He was one more idiotic remark from blowing his lid.

“No more shop talk. No more Riley talk. The only talk I want to hear is how you’re going to help me get up those stairs and into your car so you can drive me to the hospital.”

“You got it, boss,” Mal said. The rebuke snapped him back to his senses, and he guided Giovanni across the floor and up the stairs.

If his wrist was broken, he wasn’t going to be able to tattoo. They’d lose significant income from canceled appointments, ruining their financial quarter. It was going to take a miracle to save Thorn Tattoo now. Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to keep from exploding with anger.

Anger with himself, anger with Antonio, and anger with the circumstances that made Riley believe she wasn’t good enough.

Fate had spoken, and there was no getting out of it. The end was coming. Thorn Tattoo was finished.