I rushed around the apartment, shoving another macaron into my mouth, and gathered my things to take to the gallery. Making last-minute arrangements to get my pictures together had been a hell of a lot of work. Once the gallery owner helped me choose the pieces, I’d had to get them printed and mounted.

I was sweating buckets and running around town trying to make sure everything went off without a hitch. Rachel kept disappearing, so I couldn’t even get her to help. Every step of the way, I struggled to wrap my head around the fact that Ivan had done this for me.

Just when I thought I had him figured out, he’d change gears and completely floor me. My head shot up at the thumping knock on the door. I peeked out the peephole and swung the door open. Craning my neck, I checked out the striking blond with bright blue eyes. He was big. Not as big as Ivan, but still a big guy.

“Hi. You must be Dahlia. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He extended his hand, trying his best to play the dutiful boyfriend. It had taken me almost two weeks just to pry his name out of Rachel, but other than that she’d been incredibly tight-lipped.

He was drop-dead gorgeous and nothing like I’d have expected for Rachel. She was so nice and sweet. This guy looked like a fucking asshole. Killian.

I glanced down at his hand and opened the door wider so he could step inside. I closed the door behind him and crossed my arms over my chest, checking him out. His tailored suit fit well for a guy his size. It still looked like he might burst out of it at any minute, but he certainly had a better tailor than Ivan.

He fidgeted a little under my steady stare. Good. Fidget. I’m sure there weren’t many people who could make him uncomfortable.

“So, you’re the elusive Killian.” I pushed off the door and stalked toward him, giving my heels just the right bit of attitude. Our neighbors downstairs had to hate me right then. I had no trouble falling right into best-friend, don’t-you-mess-with-her mode.

“That would be me.” He tried to pull off a nice-guy smile, but I saw right through him. Trouble with a big red flashing sign was what I saw when I looked at him, and I should know, I had one of my own. Falling for that kind of guy had never been an issue for me. Sadly it looked like Rachel had taken me up on my shitty advice.

“You’re coming to the exhibition tonight?”

“Yes, Rachel invited me.”

“She invited you, or you invited yourself along?”

His jaw ticked, and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. He was trying to take over her life. Had her up at all hours. Staying out and sometimes not coming home.

“The jury is still out on you. Rachel seems happy. Relaxed, so you get a pass for now, but don’t think I’m not looking out for her. And this isn’t the usual protective-roommate bullshit. I will castrate you in your sleep if you fuck her over.” I advanced on him, ready to get to the bottom of what the hell was going on. His eyes got wide, and he stepped back up until his back bumped against the counter.

The door flew open behind me, and Rachel came tumbling into the room. She always knew how to make an entrance. I kept my laugh inside, only to make sure Killian didn’t get any ideas about me being soft. Rachel’s arms were full of a huge box and a bouquet of flowers. Killian stepped around me.

“Thanks,” Rachel said, panting. Sweat beaded her forehead as usual when she came up those stairs. Killian grabbed the box and planted a kiss on Rachel. She got that dreamy look in her eyes that told me I needed to back off him a little bit, if only to let Rachel live a little.

“Those for me?” I asked, plucking the peony bouquet out of Rachel’s hands. She had something about peonies that was beyond me. They were definitely pretty.

“Yeah, shit, you weren’t supposed to be here. They were supposed to be a surprise.” Rachel huffed, blowing some of her hair out of her face. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and squeeze her. I figured she was the closest thing I’d have to a kid sister. I resisted the urge to ruffle her hair in front of her new boy toy.

“I’ll just have to pretend to be surprised. I’m heading down to the gallery. I’ll see you there, and make sure you wear the shoes.” I opened the door as an unseasonably warm gust of wind wound its way up the stairwell, my brave front threatening to falter as the cold, hard fact that I was going to be standing in a roomful of people criticizing my work in less than an hour came back to me.

“I’m not wearing those things out. I’ll kill myself.” Rachel’s eyes were wide, and her voice went up an octave. I knew if I didn’t force her to wear them out, she never would. Now was her chance, and I was forcing her to take it. Killian looked like he could keep her from breaking her ankles.

“The deal was you wore them out within two months of getting them, and your time is almost up. If you don’t wear them tonight, they’re mine. Plus I think Killian here will have no trouble making sure you don’t topple over. Just hold on tight to him.” And his asshole facade seemed to slip a bit as soon as Rachel appeared. Maybe I’d misjudged him. Maybe…

I slammed the door and made my way to the gallery. The last-minute preparations were happening as the bar and DJ set up. This wasn’t a stuffy normal gallery opening, which made sense. Why the hell would I have been there if this was for normal art?

The new gallery space was a transformed industrial loft with brushed concrete floors and stellar lighting. My fingers switched back and forth between numb and tingling, then tingling numbness as I stood in front of the huge prints mounted on the walls. My prints. Of my tattoos. I wandered through the space as the gallery owner put the last touches on each display. The lighting from above seemed to make each of the prints come alive. There were five people showcasing their work, and I was the only one having their first show.

I had no idea how Ivan had wrangled a spot at this show at the last minute and in the brand-new gallery and exhibition space, but I’d have been insane to pass up the chance. That didn’t mean my stomach wasn’t trying to revolt the entire time I stood there, pretending I didn’t want to run screaming from the room.

People filtered in, grabbing glasses of wine and wandering through the space. I chewed on my nail as I watched them move from print to print. Every time someone stepped in front of one of mine, I held my breath. I needed a drink. This exhibiting-artist stuff was totally different than sitting in my studio with my tattoo gun and my sketches.

Among the visitors, I saw Rachel tucked under the arm of her new boyfriend or whatever the hell he was. I glanced down at her feet.

“Damn it. I was hoping you’d chicken out and I’d get those shoes.” I gave Rachel a big hug even though I’d only seen her a little while ago. It was nice to see a friendly face. With her arms wrapped around me, I relaxed a little bit.

“I’d have fought you to the death for these things.” She kicked up her heel, practically beaming with pride and showing off the bright red sole underneath.

“You’re scrappy. It would have been quite a fight.” I couldn’t hold back my grin. “So, what do you think?” I opened my arms wide and showcased the photos behind me. My photos. Gulp.

“It’s all amazing, as usual. I still can’t believe how big some of these pieces are. And that you did the photography for them too.” Rachel gushed over the pictures. I couldn’t hold back a smile. It was so wide it hurt my cheeks. I loved my roommate, and I didn’t care if she was lying through her teeth.

“What about you?” I crossed my arms over my chest, turning to Killian

“I think you’re an amazing artist. Tattoos or not, these are remarkable. If I ever got one, you’d be my first choice.” Killian glanced at the rest of the pictures of my work dotted around the space.

I couldn’t help it. I smiled at him. Maybe I’d give him a head start if he screwed anything up with Rachel before I kicked his ass.

“Thanks,” I said, my cheeks heating.

One minute I was standing there, breathing a sigh of relief that I might not be making a fool of myself, and the next I was lifted off my feet and wrapped up in a melee of limbs. What the fuck?

The guys from the shop and some of my other tattoo buddies barreled through the group of people next to us, being as rowdy as ever. I knew art shows weren’t their thing, but that they’d come down here—whether it was for free booze or not—meant a lot to me.

I swatted and punched them, knocking them out of the way. Such assholes, but lovable ones. My smile got even wider as they each gave me a hug, practically passing me around the circle.

“Look at the boss lady, showing off her fancy shit!” Max said, his gauges an excellent backdrop to the tattoos behind him.

“Will you paint me like one of your French girls, Dahl?” Ty batted his eyelashes at me. I was a second from punching him and pushed against his chest, trying to get him to drop me.

My feet touched the ground, and a shadow loomed over us, and a hand shot out and grabbed Ty by the throat and held him up in the air. My heart thundered as my gaze snapped up to Ivan standing over us like a harbinger of death with him squeezing the life out of Ty second by second.

Roars of “what the fuck?” and “stop it” rolled through the group, but Ivan wasn’t letting go.

I grabbed on to his arm, trying to get him to drop Ty. This was the type of thing that kept me up at night. The kind of thing that seemed like it was destined to happen. He was a lit fuse. It was like a switch had been flipped, and that guy I thought I knew, the one who brought me dumplings and massaged my hands and could give me goose bumps with a stare, was gone and replaced with a psycho ready to snap someone’s neck at the drop of a hat.

“Ivan, stop.” I pulled on his arm with all my might. My fingers dug into his thick muscled forearms as I screamed up at him. The other guys were all looking at me like I was crazy right along with him, Axel’s hand dragging down Ivan’s shirt. They recognized my ink on his skin. Knew I must have known him somehow. A wheeze came from Ty’s lips. He wouldn’t even look at me. Other people were taking in the scene. And then I got in his face.

“Ivan, put him down now,” I yelled so loud that everyone who wasn’t already gawking at the scene turned to stare. The throbbing music was still pounding in the background. Ivan’s eyes left Ty’s face and finally met mine. The rage burning there ebbed away, and he was staring at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. Like he just remembered where he was.

“Put him down.” I tugged on his arm again with all my strength. Ivan released his grip on Ty’s neck, and he dropped to the floor in a heap, coughing and sputtering. My brain was mush and my body shook. I didn’t know what the hell to do first.

Ty lay on the floor, gasping for air. Ivan stood in front of me slowly coming out of killer-machine mode, and everyone in the place stared at all of us. So much for my big art debut. One that Ivan had arranged for me. All those warm, fuzzy feelings turned into shaking that made me want to throw up. I should have known it would all blow up in my face.

“I’m sorry.” Ivan glanced down at his hands like he didn’t even know what happened.

“You need to leave.” I clenched my teeth so tightly my jaw ached. The fight-or-flight response made my limbs buzz as every eye in the place stayed glued to us.

Ivan nodded and stepped back. People jumped out of his path as he left the building like there was a dangerous animal, but it wasn’t this place. It was him. The crowd parted to let him pass as he turned and rushed out.

I stared after him. How had this night gone so wrong so quickly? Ivan, that’s how. I shook my head and turned to check on Ty.

“Are you okay?” I crouched beside him as he pushed himself up off the floor.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice raspy as he rubbed his neck. There were already dark marks there. I glanced toward the doorway, but Ivan was long gone. Warring emotions raced through me. Fear. Rage. And one I didn’t even want to feel after what he’d done. Worry. What the hell made him freak out like that? Maybe I’d been lulled into a false sense of security about what it meant to be around him. About who he was now.

“I honestly don’t know, Ty. Are you okay?” I put my hand on his shoulder and checked him over.

“I’m fine, other than the near decapitation from a maniac. Who the hell was that? Don’t think we didn’t recognize his tats.” He shot me a look, and guilt twisted in my stomach. I’d put more than myself at risk with my late-night client.

“No one. No one you need to worry about.”

I glanced up and saw the worried looks on Rachel and Killian’s faces. Keep it together. I plastered on a fake smile, trying my best to keep her from freaking out. Her and me. Everyone else who stood there staring at us.

“Who’s ready for a drink? Because I sure as fuck am.” One surefire way to get their mind off what just went down was to get everyone drunk. I gathered the guys and headed to the bar.

Rachel caught my arm. Killian trailed behind her, trying to keep an I’m-not-listening-though-I’m-close-enough-to-be-listening distance.

“Dahlia, what the hell was that?” Rachel asked with my elbow still in her grip. I took a deep breath and turned to face her.

“It’s nothing. Everything is fine; let’s enjoy the night.” My smile was even wider, so wide my cheeks hurt. It was this or run out of the gallery crying. I shook off Rachel’s arm. “I’m going to get some shots. We need to celebrate. It’s not every day we get you out of the apartment in shoes that look that fucking hot. Right, Killian?” I said, hoping he’d take his cue. And I rushed off with the guys, climbing behind the bar, pushing the bartenders out of the way to dole out the drinks before she could get in another word.

I took a couple of my own, trying to gin up the courage to figure out what happened next. Could there be any excuse for what happened tonight? For him freaking the hell out and attacking my friends? No, it seemed he wasn’t so hell-bent on leaving his old life behind. He hadn’t changed. Those pictures his uncle had shown me were meant to lay it out clear as day who he really was and what his uncle was capable of. It had done both, and I’d been deceiving myself to think any differently. We were doomed before we even started.