Chapter Five

Four months later

Maddox was a man without a team.

Without a country.

Hell, he wasn’t even in his mother’s home state of North Carolina. His father would call him a coward and lecture him up one side and down the other, as his mother was fond of saying. Maddox would be forced to listen, because that was what a good son did.

Only, he wasn’t a good son anymore, and he bloody missed Scotland.

He bloody missed her. The woman who should have been his until the day he drew his last breath.

But hadn’t he screwed that relationship to hell and back?

He couldn’t dwell in the past, or on the things he should have done and said. Instead, he needed to concentrate on the future, and on his new position at Reed Brothers.

The New York City tattoo shop had provided an unexpected sanctuary. For four months, he had hidden out... until a sodding camera crew had taken up residence.

Maddox bent over his latest sketch, pencil in hand, as he feathered out the lines along the perimeter. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d drawn a trio of doves in midflight, or why he had given it a rather feminine slant.

Perhaps it was due to the film crew’s reason for being at Reed’s in the first place. Ten artists would be tattooing ten individuals to help them remember and honor someone or an event in their past.

Only, doves also signified new beginnings.

He shook his head, a grimace pulling his mouth down at the corners. “No use for that.” New beginnings were not for him. He didn’t deserve one.

“Yo, Mad Max,” Honor called, and Maddox slid his gaze her way. She was a fellow artist, a damned good one, at that—but she took great delight in needling the hell out of him. “Warner can’t make it, so guess who the newest star is?”

“I told Matthew that I—”

“Sucks to be you, buddy.”

“I won’t do it.”

Honor cocked a hip, giving him an impervious stare as the camera crew appeared out of thin air. “It’s only your job, Mad Dog.” As she pivoted and began to walk to her private station, the secondary camera crew was hot on her heels.

A couple of minutes later, he heard, “Honor Sloan, meet your client, one of New York City’s finest, Officer Brent Copeland.”

“Oh, no.”

Automatically, Maddox started in her direction, but when those negative exclamations turned into full-on banshee, he decided to let things work themselves out. Honor was pissed—not scared.

A man’s low but distinctly clear, “Fuck, no,” punctuated the end of her screeching. Looked like neither party was happy at the moment.

Maddox couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Your client is here,” the production assistant said.

He groaned. “I’m not taking Warner’s client. He can do the job himself.”

“You did agree to be the backup artist in case of sickness—”

“He’d better be dead.” Maddox meant it. The last thing he wanted was to be on the telly again. His fifteen minutes of former fame had felt like fifteen centuries, especially after the accident.

Not an accident. His bloody fault.

Appearing slightly taken aback, the production assistant gave him a tight smile. “Do it or you’re out, Maddox. It’s the rules. You signed off on it.”

Maddox cursed under his breath. “Fine. Send Warner’s client in.” What’s the worst that could happen?

A woman of average height with long, brown hair threaded with caramel highlights walked into the room. She wore huge sunglasses that obscured half her face, but her lips... her lips were an erotic dream. He’d tasted lips like hers once.

He sucked in a breath. It couldn’t be her.

She removed the sunglasses, shoved them in her purse, and then lifted her gaze. Eyes the color of the forest met his.

“Maddox Stewart, meet your client, Cadence Romanov—she traveled all the way from Holland Springs to be here today.”

“Hello,” Cadence said, her voice all at once a balm to his soul and the sound of nightmares.

Maddox clenched his fists. He wanted to run. He wanted to stay. He was a fucking idiot. “I can’t do this.”

Cadence tipped up her chin, her cute nose slightly flaring. “Can’t or won’t?”

The PA’s gaze bounced between them. “Do you guys know each other?”

“Aye.” Maddox’s jaw became so tight it was nearly impossible to breathe, much less talk in anything other than one-word grunts.

The PA gave them a tell-us-more look.

“He’s my big brother’s best friend. I’ve known him my entire life,” Cadence elaborated in that sweet drawl that used to set his body on fire. Hell, forget used to—he was burning for her right now.

“You’re friends with the Romanovs?”

Maddox nodded once, pain filling his heart. Why did she have to be Warner’s client? “My father is in business with them. Well, with Sebastian, Cadence’s uncle, anyway.”

“My dad never cared for the family business,” Cadence said, taking another step closer. “It’s why he went into acting. I decided to be like Momma and write.” The dark jeans she wore hugged her shapely legs while the loose, one-shoulder top barely concealed her perfect breasts.

“Do you ken what you’d like?” he asked, his voice coming out raspy. He knew what he would like. He’d liked to strip her out of her clothes and—

Stop it. She’s not yours, not after what you said to her.

But she used to be. In every way that mattered.

Cadence shook her head. “I had something in mind from the pictures out front, but now that you’ll be the one inking me... I want an original.”

Cadence knew Maddox was an artist. That his second love, after rugby, had always been art—sketching, designing, and painting. Before he had become a utility player for the Blues, he’d apprenticed and even considered opening his own shop. But the prospect of money and fame, coupled with his love for the sport he’d played since he was a child, had won out.

He gestured to his desk. “I was working on a piece this morning, but I think it would be better to start again—to start with something new.”

Her mouth flattened, but then she breezed past him and picked up the sketch. Her beautiful eyes scanned over the doves. “This is perfect. Why throw away something when there’s nothing wrong with it?”

“Because I wasn’t serious. I was only messing around,” he said. As soon as he did, he wished the words back into his mouth.

Hurt bloomed in her eyes. “I see.” Tilting her head to one side, she took a breath. “I think the design is worth a second chance.” She held it out to him. “It’s worth being permanently inked on me—my shoulder, that is.”

The cameras faded away. There was no one in the room but Cadence and him. And months of hurt. Of confusion. Of rejection.

Yet, she wasn’t here to exact revenge.

“As you wish. Take off your shirt and lie down on the table,” he instructed, slipping into business mode.

He hoped to God he had the strength to do this, and then to leave Cadence once it was over.

***

Cadence hesitated, but it wasn’t over his casual order to take off her shirt. It was over his utter indifference to her presence. She was just a client, just another skin to draw on, while her entire body vibrated. Cadence wanted to scream at him, kiss him... ask him a million questions. Why had he left her? Why hadn’t he called? Did he think she was so weak, that their love was so insubstantial, that it couldn’t handle the worse part of for better or worse? Had their vows in that small chapel at Wintersea meant nothing to him? Or had she dreamed it all?

“All right, my love?” he asked, and she startled at the term.

She frowned. Why would he call her that? Maddox had never been careless with endearments. He was never careless with words, period. The man who was treating her no different from any other customer had always been careful. Intentional. Deliberate. Especially when they made love.

“I can’t strip in front of the cameras,” she finally said.

“If you want to be inked, you will,” came Maddox’s reply, but she didn’t miss the flash of irritation. It wasn’t directed at her, but at himself. He shot the cameraman a look. “You can bloody well turn around until I say otherwise.”

Cadence wanted to celebrate that show of possessiveness, but she couldn’t. Maddox had been raised as a gentleman, and not just in the southern sense of the word. His father was a Scottish duke who believed in comportment and boarding schools, while Maddox’s mother had tempered that by not allowing their children to be sent away until they were teenagers. Since the duke loved his duchess—and his children—he’d agreed. And since Cadence’s parents had been rather unconventional with their childrearing as well, the Stewart and Romanov children were almost always together for holidays and trips around the world.

The production assistant smiled. “We’ll edit out anything you don’t approve.”

Yeah, sure they would. She pursed her lips. “Can I at least leave my tank top on?”

“As long as it’s out of my way.” He bent over the desk, adding ink to the sketch.

With a sigh, she took off her shirt, tossed it on an empty chair in the corner, and climbed on his table. Lying on her stomach, she turned her head to one side to watch him.

Maddox pivoted, his face achingly familiar even after so many months of not seeing it, and approached the table.

“Why did you leave me?” she whispered, but he didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she closed her eyes, jumping a little when he began to clean the area where he would mark her.

“There is obviously water under the bridge for you two,” the production assistant prodded. “Care to share?”

Maddox stopped rubbing the cleaning solution on her, his palm flattening on her shoulder in an almost protective way. “She’s here to remember something, not give you dirty details about the Romanov and Stewart families.”

Cadence’s eyes popped open. Turning her head, she gave the harried PA an apologetic smile. “I’m happy to share why I want to get this tattoo. It’s in honor of... that story where boy meets girl. They fall in love, and everything is perfect... until the worst comes to pass. The boy forgets his vows and leaves the girl wondering what she did to deserve his indifference.”

“Perhaps the girl mistakes indifference for embarrassment,” Maddox said, smoothing the template onto her skin before skillfully removing the transfer paper.

Cadence turned her attention to him. “Perhaps the boy should have told her that in the first place.”

“Aye, he should have,” he softly agreed.

Her heart flipped in her chest. “The boy should have never forgotten his vows either.”

A grimace turned Maddox’s full lips into a thin line. “He did not. The boy was... is faithful.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Except when it comes to staying put.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he turned away to grab his tools.

“So, you’re here to remember that relationship?” the PA asked.

Cadence nodded. “Yes, and to prove that the boy and girl can start over.”

A faint, mechanical whirring sound filled the room, and then the needles began to dig into her. The room fell silent. Over and over, the points scraped her, until a fine sweat broke out on her skin. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, trying in vain to keep silent. To not break down in tears.

It was stupid, but the tattoo hurt, almost as much as her heart. Actually, everything hurt.

Unable to help herself, she whimpered. The pain immediately stopped. It was replaced by a dull ache.

She glanced up at Maddox, finding agony in his gaze. “Why did you stop?”

“I can’t willingly hurt you, Cadence,” he said.

Tears filled her eyes. “You already did.” She blew out a breath. “Finish it, please.”

His blue eyes clouded, became dark and hooded. It was as if a stranger had taken his place. “Fine.”

The whirring started up again. Once more, her world filled with pain, but it was manageable. Her heart, however, was an entirely different story.