Capture Me (Unlocked Desire)

“What the fuck is taking so long?” Vance asks for the hundredth time as he twirls a blade on the waiting room table. A few of the grandmas in the room keep eyeing him. One even has her cell phone clutched in her hand just in case she has to call 9-1-1.

“Should you tell Vance to put the knife away? He’s scaring the old ladies,” I whisper in Enzo’s ear.

“If he puts the knife away, those little old ladies will definitely have something to call the cops about. That right there might look scary, but it’s calming the fucker down. You’d think Clarissa was having major surgery with how cagey he’s being.”

“Why isn’t he the one in there instead of her friend Emily?”

Enzo grins. “’Cause when Clarissa gave birth the first time, he told the doctor that if she screamed one more time, he was going to put a knife through his head. She didn’t want to go through that again, so she asked her friend Emily to go in with her.”

A nurse walks in, and Vance jumps so fast that it appears humanly impossible. “She okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Matthew, she’s fine. You have a beautiful baby boy. She says you can go in and see her now.”

Vance mumbles something under his breath and runs out of the waiting room. I put my head on Enzo’s shoulder and sigh.

“You sure you don’t want kids?” he asks. “I know I’ve got some damage, but if you want them, I’ll give them to you.”

I lace my fingers in his, bring his knuckles to my mouth, and kiss them. I feel lucky that I’ve got him in my life. “Yes, I’m sure. I never wanted kids. I’m thrilled with just the two of us.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“But what about the baby?”

“We can come back tomorrow. I’m sure Clarissa is tired, and Vance will hover so badly that it won’t matter. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? You finally gonna show me the tattoo on your wrist that you’ve been hiding for days?”

“Yes, a surprise, and don’t ask any more questions. You’ll see it when we get home.”

“Okay, we’re home. What’s the surprise?”

Enzo takes my hand and walks me to the bedroom. There is a massage table set up with another table beside it full of what looks like tattooing items, including a tattoo gun and ink. I feel the dread in my stomach. I only have one tattoo—a snake, my father’s brand. The experience turned me off so much that I never want to step into a shop and experience the gun buzzing in my ear or gliding down my skin ever again.

Enzo steps in front of me, his strong hands cupping my face as he brings his forehead to mine. “I want to replace it. I want to take all your nightmares and turn them into something beautiful, the way you’ve done for me. I just need you to trust me. You think you can do that?”

My beautiful man, the pleading look in his eyes, the longing for me to put all my faith into him just like he’d put in me. I’m shocked he doesn’t know that I trust him so much that if he put a gun to my head in anger, I’d put the barrel in my mouth and wouldn’t move because I know he’d never hurt me. “Yes, of course I trust you, with my life.”

Enzo smirks, moving to stand behind me, his arms tightly wrapped around my waist. “Good.” He smacks my ass. “Take your pants off and hop on.”

I slide my jeans off, climb onto the bed, and lie down. “So what are you gonna brand me with?”

Enzo wags his eyebrows and smirks, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Property of Enzo, obviously.”

I burst out laughing, shaking my head, and then I glance at the somber expression in his eyes and freeze. “You’re joking, right?”

His hand flies to his heart, and he juts out his bottom lip and pouts. “I thought you trusted me?”

I shrug, relaxing into the table. I suppose if he does brand me with his name, it won’t be the worst thing. I belong to him, in every single way that’s imaginable. The man is the center of my world and I to his. “So, who’s doing the tattoo? I didn’t see anyone else in the house.”

“I am. You think I’d ever let any other fucker touch your skin? You don’t want me going on a killing spree, do you?”

“What? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, principessa. I’ve been tattooing since I was eighteen. I used to actually run one of Rossi’s shops that he uses as a front. That was when I started covering all my marks. Tattoos allowed me to transform my skin into what I wanted, not what it actually was.”