“I thought I saw a lens.”
I looked in the direction he had, but I knew I wouldn’t see anything. I rarely did. I’d know tomorrow if paparazzi had followed us.
“Do you want me to come inside with you?” Maddox asked, returning my attention to the parlor.
“Yes, please,” I said softly. Whatever he saw on my face made protectiveness flare up in his eyes. One of my bodyguards checked the tattoo studio while Maddox and the other waited with me. Once inside, only Maddox stayed close by as the tattoo artist greeted us. He was covered from head to toe with tattoos, even his bald head and throat. Only his face was still untouched. The tattoos adorning his body were colorful and intricate, nothing like the horrid scribbling on my back.
It was obvious that he felt uncomfortable in our presence. I didn’t really feel comfortable in this place either. I’d never wanted a tattoo, and I still wouldn’t have chosen to get inked if it hadn’t been forced upon me. He led us over to a lounge chair and I sat down on it, feeling reminded of a doctor’s office. It didn’t really settle my nerves.
The man, Constantine, cleared his throat. “Can I take a look at the tattoo you want to cover?”
“Oh, of course.” Few people had seen it yet and I felt hesitant about having the bodyguards see it. Dad would make sure they didn’t say anything, but on occasion tidbits of information reached a wife’s ears and then all bets were off.
“Why don’t you guard the doors with your backs to us?” Maddox said sharply. They ignored him. Maddox stalked toward one of them and got in his face. “Do I have to smash your ugly face in for you to turn around and give your boss’s daughter some privacy?”
“Your word means nothing,” my bodyguard spat out.
I sent him a scathing look. “Turn around.”
Both men finally did, and Maddox stalked back to me, looking pissed. “I can’t even ram my knife into their throats without risking to piss off your father.”
“That wouldn’t be a good start to your cooperation, no,” I said. “They’ll learn to respect you when they realize how brave you are.”
Maddox leaned closer, meeting my gaze. “Fuck, I’d die for a kiss from you right now.”
Heat washed through me. “Later,” I promised.
I unbuttoned my blouse but kept my bra on, then turned my back to the tattoo artist. When he sat down on a stool behind me to inspect the tattoo, I cringed. Maddox watched with crossed arms. His expression reflected a myriad of emotions, anger and guilt at the forefront. He obviously blamed himself, and a tiny part of me did too.
I was glad I didn’t see the tattoo artist’s face when he read the words on my back. I hadn’t looked at them again after that first night. “Can you cover it up?” I whispered, terrified he might say no.
“It’ll take a few sessions, depending on what you want.”
“You need a crown, that’s for sure,” Maddox said.
I peered up at him, catching the tattoo artist nodding from the corner of my eye. “That could work. A crown could cover up both words if we choose one with a wide rim and deep coloring.”
“A crown,” I said with a smile. “That’ll annoy many people.”
“We wouldn’t want that, right?” Maddox grinned daringly.
“A crown it is,” I confirmed. “Maybe… maybe we can keep the word Vitiello? Weave it into the crown somehow?”
“That could work. But the original words would be covered up completely. This is horrid work. Even first year trainees do a better job on pig’s skin.”
I tensed. I knew he was angry because of the ugly tattoo and didn’t want to make me feel bad, but I was definitely not as thick-skinned about this as I wanted to be.
“Hey, how about you think before you talk?” Maddox growled.
Constantine’s eyes grew wide and he leaned back slightly, regarding Maddox warily. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
“It’s okay,” I said firmly, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of it than it was. “Can we start right away?”
“Sure, once you’ve chosen a design I can start contouring.”
I picked a crown with an intricate design around the rim so the words could disappear beneath it, a beautiful crown an empress would have worn for her coronation.
Fear washed through me when the tattoo artist grabbed the needle, remembering the helplessness and panic from last time. My hands became sweaty and I sought Maddox’s gaze. He motioned at the tattooist to wait and squatted before me where I lay on my belly on the couch. He took my hand and kissed my palm, his smile reassuring.
I gave a nod and Maddox gave the tattooist the sign. I winced when the needle pierced my skin but quickly realized that it didn’t hurt nearly as much as Cody tattooing me. Maddox held my gaze the next two hours until the contouring was done. His gaze anchored and calmed me. With him by my side, I’d get through this and emerge stronger.