The Devil I Desire (Devil's Knights 4)

Aiden sipped from the glass in his hand. “You work at The Ink Yard, right?”

“Yep.” I pointed at the sleeve of ink on my right arm. “Mickey just promoted me to a full-fledged artist. I got a chair last month.”

“What were you doing before?”

“I was his assistant.”

Aiden clutched my bicep, studying my ink. Then his eyes met mine. “Did you do this work yourself?”

I shook my head. “I drew the designs, but Mick put them on my skin. My hand isn’t as steady when I’m working on myself.” I turned my arm over so he could see my wrist. “This was my botched attempt at inking myself.”

He laughed. “Does that say… It’s all a lie?”

“I was drunk and in a weird mood. It’s a play on Picasso’s quote ‘Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.’ But, unfortunately, no one ever gets the meaning.”

“Might help if you spelled lie correctly.” He laughed. “You must have been pretty drunk.”

“Never drink Jack Daniels on an empty stomach… or after you get into an epic fight with your dad, and he throws you out of the house.”

Aiden raised his glass. “To shitty parents and bad decisions.”

I drank with Aiden.

After he finished his whiskey, he set the empty glass on the bar and rolled up the sleeve of his dress shirt. “I was thinking about getting something right here.” He pointed at his forearm. “Think you can hook me up if I come by your studio?”

“Depends. What do you have in mind?”

He scrolled through his cell phone. Then he hunched down to my height, since he was so damn tall, and showed me the screen.

“Wow, you’re good. Did you draw this?”

Aiden nodded. “I like Greek mythology.”

So does Marcello.

“I can see that. Brilliant Poseidon sketch.”

He grinned with satisfaction. “What do you think? Can you pull this one off?”

“Yeah, I can do it,” I said, though I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I was ready for a sleeve this detailed. “This is a lot of color. You’ll need to come back a few times.”

He winked. “I’m good with that.”

“Are you hitting on me, Wellington?”

“Nah,” he said with a smirk. “Marcello would kill me.”

My mouth flew open in surprise. “You know about us?”

“I know a lot of things I’m not supposed to know about the Salvatores.”

“This stays between us.”

He tapped his long fingers on the bar, his eyes on me. “Of course. It’s our little secret.”

“Come by the studio on Wednesday. I can fit you in for your first session.”

“Sweet.” He flagged down the bartender. “Another Jack for me… and the lady?” Aiden turned to look at me.

“Something strong and make it a double.”

His face illuminated with excitement. “And a Jack on the rocks.”

I shook my head.

“No rocks,” Aiden corrected before the bartender got to work. “Damn girl, you’re hardcore. Not like the rest of the women in this town.”

“Probably because I’m not from here.”

“Me neither. Thank God for that. Keeping Alex and me from Devil’s Creek until we were eighteen was the only thing our parents did right.”

“Do you live at Wellington Manor with your grandparents?”

“We’re only here for the summer. Then we go back to RISD.”

I would have killed to attend the Rhode Island School of Design. It was the best art school in the United States, and I knew getting in was a total longshot.

“I applied to RISD and didn’t get in. So what’s the secret?”

“Let’s just say it didn’t hurt that Luca’s mother was an alumnus. Salvatore sent a letter of recommendation to the school on Alex’s behalf.”

“How about you?”

“Pity admission,” he joked. “Two for one. I only got in because of Alex. To her credit, she would have gotten into the school without Luca’s help.”

“How about you?”

He rolled his shoulders. “Don’t tell my sister, but she’s better than me. Her acceptance was an easy decision. Mine? Not so much. I prefer street art to contemporary, and my art usually gets me into trouble.”

My eyes roamed around the room. And when Sonny spotted me, he raised his hand and left Marcello’s side.

“Excuse me,” I said to Aiden. “I’ll be right back.”

I moved through the crowd with a purpose. Women gave me weird stares as I pushed past them. One woman muttered that I was rude and even commented that I must have snuck into the party because there was no way Arlo would have invited someone like me. Someone with so many tattoos who didn’t conform to their standards.

I hated these stuffy parties with a passion. If my father didn’t need Arlo’s connections to the Italian Mafia, we wouldn’t even have come to the Salvatore Estate. I would have gladly stayed home.

“Cousin,” Sonny said as he appeared at my side, dressed in a black tuxedo and a gold mask. “You finally got an invitation to the big show. How does it feel to be one of us?”