Gentleman Sinner

The buzzing kicks in again, and I keep my gaze glued to Theo’s as Stan resumes work, at the same time thinking about helping him. I’m back to therapy. He needs therapy. Would he consider that? For me?

There’s not one more flinch from Theo. Stan works easily while I maintain my connection with Theo, knowing it’s helping him. I lose track of time, my focus stolen by the stallion of a man staring at me like I’m the only thing in this room. Because to him, I am.

‘Done,’ Stan declares, rubbing a tissue over the area and sitting back, his head cocked to the side as he inspects his work. ‘Simple but effective, I guess.’ He places his tools on the table and takes a pot of Vaseline. ‘Happy?’

Theo looks down at his chest, lifting his head from the chair. ‘Perfect,’ he confirms.

Stan smears a dollop of petroleum jelly across the area and grabs a square piece of gauze. I’m rising from my chair mechanically, moving closer, eager to finally get a glimpse of the design Theo chose. But Stan has covered the area already.

I pout like a little girl. ‘When do I get to see?’ I ask, not bothering to hide my disappointment. He brought me along to help him, and I don’t even get to see it?

Stan moves back, pulling off his gloves as Theo rattles the cuffs, a silent order for me to free him. ‘Later,’ he tells me, and I scowl at him. He’s restrained. I could peel away that tape and look, and there would be nothing he could do about it. I eye the large rectangular padding on his chest, nibbling my lip. ‘Don’t even think about it, Izzy,’ Theo warns, jerking his hands again. ‘Come here.’

My nose wrinkles in irritation as I obey, moving around the back of the chair. I show him my hands and wait for him to nod before I flip the lever on each handcuff, freeing him. He sits up, rubbing at his wrists and rolling some life back into his shoulders, while Stan raises the blind at the window, revealing the waiting room full of people again. I wander over and scan the area, seeing other rooms leading off the space, most with the doors open, showing people in chairs being inked. ‘Is this your shop?’ I ask Stan over my shoulder.

‘Certainly is.’ He joins me by the window. ‘The part out there is for your average Joes. I only work on private clients.’

I nod, looking around at the variety of people sitting and waiting. Some look like hard-core ink fans, arms and legs covered, and others look like they don’t know if they really want to be here. A young girl catches my eye, holding her friend’s hand tightly as she points out a small heart in a folder being shown to her by a heavily pierced guy crouched before her. She looks terrified. Stan must see my line of sight, because he starts chuckling. ‘Addiction is the only danger,’ he says, and I look at him, his profile clear and free from ink until he turns towards me, revealing the other side of his face. ‘It’s just for effect.’ He winks, and I laugh.

‘It works.’ I return my attention to the waiting room beyond the glass, hearing the soft pound of Theo’s stride approaching behind me. ‘I might get one,’ I muse, smiling to myself.

His chest meets my back and his mouth meets my ear. ‘I’ll hold your hand,’ he whispers. ‘What would you have?’

I ponder that for a few moments, leaning back into him. ‘I don’t know. Maybe something like Stan’s.’

Theo chuckles softly and Stan belts out a roar of a laugh. ‘I don’t have a death wish, Izzy. You can source another artist if you plan on ruining that pretty face.’

I grin from ear to ear . . . but the grin plummets when a lone man across the shop catches my eye. My blood runs cold, my body locking up against Theo.

No.

No, it can’t be.

I blink, trying to breathe steadily, trying to clear my vision, which is being hampered by relentless flashbacks. When that doesn’t work, I close my eyes. But that doesn’t stop the visions, either. I look out the window again, and the sight of him robs me of breath. His face, sharp and pointy, hasn’t changed one bit.

He’s here.

Oh God.

I spin around without thinking, nearly meeting Theo’s bare chest face-first, panic preventing me from playing it cool.

‘What is it?’ Theo’s bent and in my face quickly, his worried eyes searching mine. I just stare at him, my face undoubtedly a picture of dread. ‘Izzy?’

I grab some reason amid my chaos, pushing back the memories that are ambushing me and bringing my nasty past into my present. ‘Nothing.’ I shake my head, praying the bastard doesn’t look up from his phone and see me through the window, while simultaneously praying that Theo doesn’t force me into explaining. ‘It’s hot in here,’ I mumble, naturally skirting past Theo so I don’t touch him. And not just because I shouldn’t touch him. I don’t want him to feel my trembles. ‘I just need some air.’ My pace is steady but shaky as I leave Theo and Stan behind, breaking out into the garden at the back. I shut the door to Stan’s studio and drink in valuable air, struggling to calm my racing heart. ‘He didn’t see me,’ I tell myself, blowing out air loudly. Damn it, why is he here? I’m hundreds of miles away from my past.