Inside, the building is industrial. The corridor is big and drafty as we pass a number of locales that seem to be all kinds of different workshops. Eventually, Gemini stops and opens a door, waving me inside.
This space is like nothing I expected; it’s like stepping into another one of their VIP clubs—or I guess, mine now too. Art from a wide range of styles fills the walls, along with neon signs hanging here and there, most of them directly over tall mirrors. A tattoo station sits in the far corner, near the large windows.
But the decor is quickly forgotten when my gaze lands on the couches set up in the corner of the room.
“Vee-Vee!” Constantine chirps, sitting among the rest of the heirs, her leg still in a pink cast, looking like the happiest of the bunch.
Beside her, Aleksandr drags a hand over his mustache, as if already tired of her antics—but I don’t miss the way his leg presses into hers.
“Tinny,” I say, slightly stunned.
My eyes rove around the seating area, taking everyone in. Wolfgang is settled on the opposite couch, and Mercy is perched on the arm next to him, as if the couch were literally beneath her, while Belladonna sits on the opposite end.
“What are you doing here?”
I directed my question to Constantine, but it’s Wolfgang who answers me. “We know this is typically a private affair,” he says casually while adjusting his gold cufflinks, “but we thought this was a … unique situation.”
I sense Gemini move past me. He flops onto the couch beside Aleksandr, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. I know it means nothing, but my face burst into flames nonetheless, and I see Constantine cock her head. Her gaze shifts from me to Gemini and then back again, and I want to strangle the words I see about to come out of her mouth.
“Oh! A lovers’ quarrel, I see?” she says.
I’m about to deny everything when someone appears seemingly out of nowhere. They’re dressed in a black shirt and jeans, and most of their visible skin is covered in tattoos, including their face.
“Veil?” they say, and relief washes over me, knowing the charged moment has passed.
I nod and smile, muttering a breathy yes, trying to shut out the rest of the group—especially Gemini.
“My name is Axil. I’m the tattoo artist,” they say with a toothy white smile, and I’m immediately put at ease.
Shaking hands, we exchange pleasantries, and I let out a relieved sigh as they wave me closer to their station so we can begin prepping for the session.
I’man hour into my back tattoo. Lying flat on my stomach, I’ve brought my arms up to my head, cradling my face. Luckily, the hard scratch of the lining is a pain I’ve grown accustomed to. I focus on the sting, letting my mind wander to anywhere but here.
I was facing away from the seating area for the first half hour, but my neck grew sore, and I had no choice but to turn my head. Now I have two options—close my eyes and ignore what’s right in front of me, or avoid Gemini’s gaze.
I choose the latter for now, feeling unexpectedly grateful for the rest of the heirs so I watch them instead. By everyone’s body language, I can tell there’s an invisible current of boredom buzzing through the six. And it’s the first time I can take in their dynamics without the fear of beingliterallykilled overriding my careful perusal.
They’ve gradually shifted seats. Wolfgang is now beside Aleksandr and Constantine. Belladonna hasn’t moved from her spot, and Mercy and Gemini are now keeping her company.
As I observe them, it has become clear that some don’t get along—the most glaring being Aleksandr and Belladonna. They haven’t exchanged a word. And judging by the way Belladonna eyes Gemini and Constantine, I don’t think there is any love lost there either.
When my gaze eventually lands back on Gemini, I find his eyes fixed on me. I have to force my body not to jolt and keep my face impassive, but my heart rate doubles, as if it were the very first time he’d ever looked at me with this level of intensity.
It’s not.
But something feels wholly different this time.
I swallow hard, but don’t look away. The pain from my back tattoo and the gravity of his stare slowly morph into one overwhelming sensation, and still, I don’t avert my gaze.
Gemini’s anger today is new. A different breed and pointedly directed at me. It’s as if he’s trying to convey something with his silence. I don’t know how long we stay like this, spending infinity conversing without speaking a single word.
I loathe to admit how much I’ve missed his attention, and it’s barely been a day.
What has he done to me?
To make me crave him in this manner?
My gaze is still fixed, but my mind begins to wander to our earlier spat.
