“Nope. I’m not interested in speaking French. I think we’d be better suited to staying here for a while, don’t you think? It’s only been two weeks.” Melanie set her lips in the way she did when she was pissed, but didn’t want to say as much. Luciano raised a single brow, his gaze locking on her dark eyes. They were vibrant and hopeful, but he saw that her positivity was a front. Behind her enthusiasm lurked fear.

Luciano knew enough about fear to recognize it even while masked.

“Four months total once Gio and Riley get back and they can supervise this place again. I’m head artist, not manager. I don’t have the head for bossing people around. All I want to do is create.”

If things had been different, Luciano would have acted on his attraction to Melanie. She was slender and tall, and what she lacked in curves, she made up for in personality. A little dry sometimes, and a little sarcastic at others, she complemented his free spirit perfectly.

He liked the thick framed, oversized glasses she wore, and he appreciated her simple aesthetic. She had a thing for nautical stripes and skinny jeans, and her lips always popped with vibrant colors, usually kiss-me red, but sometimes bright pink. Beyond that, she was the best damn assistant money could buy. Luciano didn’t think he’d ever find another girl willing to put up with his bullshit. Not only did he consider himself an asshole, but he refused to let himself be pinned down.

The one time he’d let someone keep him in one place, his world had crumbled into pain and ruin. Which was why he could never hurt Melanie that way. He had a lock on his heart that he was sure would never come off.

“You can create fine here,” Melanie said, interrupting his thoughts. She kept her voice positive, but years spent working together made Luciano acutely aware of the undercurrent of rigidity in her words. “Thorn Tattoo is your home, Luc. There’s not much you can’t do here.”

“Except feel free.” Luciano shrugged. “I like the feel of the sun on my leather-clad shoulders. Hell, I even like the sunburns.”

“You are not driving your motorcycle to Canada.” Melanie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward. The tip of her button nose was little more than an inch away from his. “Did three months in a New York winter teach you nothing?”

Luciano waved a hand. “It’ll be July, maybe August. Trust me, Canada will feel way more comfortable than Vegas.”

“And how long are you planning on staying?”

“I don’t know. Three months? We could always go to Toronto.”

“Toronto is just as snowy.” Melanie’s bold lips painted her dismay. “We’re finally back home. You have a chance to reconnect with your brothers. You own a house here. Isn’t it time we stopped touring? People are flying in from all over to visit Thorn Tattoo now. There’s no reason for you to go see them.”

Luciano considered it, but not for long. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what his soul needed. Being pinned to Las Vegas wasn’t in the cards.

Being back home in time for the anniversary of Cassandra’s passing was hard enough.

“I thought we were going to go over re-listing the house today,” Luciano said. The best way to dodge a topic of conversation with Melanie was to deflect it with work. She was geared toward responsibility in ways he’d never seen before. Luciano felt like she had a plan for everything.

“Right. I have some notes from the real estate agent on my tablet. I wanted to get the coffee run done first.” She gestured at the cup he’d been sipping from. “I found a new coffee bar this morning on the way to work. What do you think?”

He took another sip giving himself a mustache before wiping it away with his thumb. “Smooth. Creamy. Strong. I like the flavor. It’s top notch stuff.” If he distracted her enough, there was a chance she’d forget. When the time came and the visas were issued, he knew Melanie would follow him. They were a team. He took to the road on his bike, and she followed behind in her mid-sized, ancient sedan stuffed full of his tattoo equipment and their worldly possessions.

“If we leave Vegas, you won’t be able to get it anymore.” She winked. The gesture was playful, and he didn’t read anything more into it. “I heard they don’t do nitro brew in Canada. You’re going to be out of luck.”

Damn it.

“I’ll adjust.” Luciano pushed his chair away from his drawing desk. The surface was riddled with sketches and carvings. Some of his favorite work had been whittled into the wood. “Just… don’t get too comfortable here, Melanie. You said your family was always moving, right? So it should be second nature for you to be on the move.”

It was very rare that Melanie lost her countenance, but in that moment, her eyes lost their luster. Luciano knew he’d said something wrong, and when she dodged his eyes and headed for the swinging doors back into Thorn Tattoo, he knew he’d really messed up.

“Hey, Mel,” Luciano said. “Don’t worry about it too much, okay? Four months is a long time. Who knows what’ll happen by then.”

Melanie didn’t say anything. She slipped through the doors and made her way back into the lobby.

In her absence, Luciano’s gut twisted.

He knew he’d done wrong, he just didn’t know how to fix it.