When I was eleven, my parents surprised me with the best gift ever.
I had a feeling it was going to be the best gift ever, because they’d sent me away to stay the night with my cousin, saying they needed to prepare my birthday surprise. I could barely sleep that night, and the next morning, I declined breakfast, desperate to race back to my house and see what it was.
I walked in to the corner of my room being completely converted into an art studio.
They’d set everything up — the brand-new desk, a dozen different-sized sketchbooks, pens and pencils and markers of all shapes and sizes and widths and colors and depths. The cherry on the cake was a brand-new tablet, one already set up with a drawing program.
I’d sobbed, clinging to my father and thanking him incessantly.
“It was your mom’s idea,” he’d whispered.
I was so shocked when I turned back to find my mother with tears in her eyes, and then I was clinging to her, crying a hundred thank yous into her shirt as she held me tight.
That memory curled around me like fog as I headed toward the shop, that same impatient, giddy feeling settling into my bones. Because just like then, I had a feeling I was walking into good news.
I had a feeling I was walking into a permanent job offer at the studio.
It was Monday, and the shop was closed, but Nero had asked me to come in for a couple hours. He’d assured me no toilets would be cleaned, and I’d laughed, all the while bouncing left to right just knowing there would be a job offer waiting for me.
Leo had thoroughly enjoyed watching me tear through dozens of outfits before landing on The One Where I Got Promoted. He was walking out the door to head back to campus for class after sneaking home with just enough time to make my toes curl before he had to go back. I couldn’t wait for the end of the night, where we’d both be home celebrating together.
As I drove, I imagined what I’d be walking into. I wondered if they’d already have my space set up and decorated, my name and photo on the wall. I wondered if the rest of the crew would be there, too, with signs and balloons and a cake. Welcome to the team! they’d all say.
I was truly floating by the time I parked, and I rode the cloud into the shop, hanging my coat and scarf along with my bag on the hooks by my temporary chair. It was quiet, but a smile still split my face.
“Hello?” I called.
“Back here!”
I followed the sound of Nero’s voice to the back office. His brows were furrowed as he worked on a design on his iPad, but he grinned ear to ear when I walked in, setting it aside. “Hey, Mary J.”
He was up out of the chair and halfway to me before I could tell him that I did not want that nickname. I’d heard it enough as a kid to have to ever hear it again as an adult. But his smile was so big when he wrapped me in a bear hug that I figured I could save that for another time.
Nero’s hands stayed on my arms as he pulled away, and he looked me up and down from head to toe. I’d landed on one of my favorite black blouses that was form-fitting but modest, along with dark skinny jeans, and black pointy-toed boots with a three-inch heel. It was simple, and yet the way each piece accented my curves and lines, it made me feel powerful.
“You look… stunning,” he said, still holding on.
“Thanks,” I replied, blushing a little. Not because of his eyes, but because I was having flashbacks to putting on this outfit and having Leo immediately strip me out of it and bend me over the desk in our room.
Our room.
I tried not to linger on that thought.
Clearing my throat, I stepped out of his grasp and pretended to tidy up some files on one of the desks. “So, what do you need help with?”
“I called you in to have a talk, actually,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”
I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face as I did.
This is it. I’m getting my own chair.
I sat down as calmly as I could, crossing my legs as Nero sat across from me. He rolled the chair until his knees almost touched mine, then leaned back and folded his hands together over his chest.
He really was a vision — all that dark hair on his head and face, the dark ink on every inch of his skin. It made me feel a bit stupid for how I overreacted with his comments a couple months before. He could have any girl he wanted, and he had bagged one of the hottest ones I’d ever laid eyes on. His wife was a smoke show.
He was just a flirty guy. And ever since that night at the bar with Leo, Nero had been nothing but professional, as if he realized that what he’d said could have been taken out of context, that he might have made me uncomfortable.
Now, I came into work and did my job and he left me to it.
I could get used to that — a flirty, good-looking boss who trusted me and left me alone.
“I’ve watched you really come into your own over the last month and a half,” he said, an easy smile on his face. “Whether it was a simple line of script on a forearm or a complicated custom piece on a back, you’ve treated every client the same — with respect. You’ve given them your full attention and made them feel important, which is the best thing you can do in this industry. You already have people wanting to come back — not to this shop, but to you.” He shook his head. “Most artists wait years for that kind of loyalty.”
I beamed under his praise, my skin so warm I pressed my palm to my cheek. “Thank you.”
“You can thank yourself. You’ve worked hard for this. You took every hour of your apprenticeship seriously, and you’ve really honed your skill, your style. I think you have a bright future ahead of you.” He paused. “I think you have a bright future here — if you want it.”
I had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from squealing. “Really?”
He chuckled, standing. “Yes, really.” He walked over to the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to me. He cracked his open and tapped it to the edge of mine before I did the same. “Drink up, Mary. This is your official job offer to work at Moonstruck.”
An elated, singsong laugh burst out of me — which made Nero grin wider. He took a long pull of his beer, and once I was done freaking out, I sipped mine. I didn’t really like beer, but I wasn’t going to turn down a celebratory drink from my boss.
“Thank you,” I breathed. “I… I’m shocked.”
“You can set your own schedule with the clients you book online, but at least to start out, I want you here in the shop a dedicated three nights a week for walk-ins. You’ll pay me rent for your chair and anything you make over that is yours. Rent will cover our basic supplies, but if you decide you want a special gun or brand of ink, that’s on you.”
I was nodding along feverishly as he spoke, abandoning my beer to take notes in my phone. I didn’t care if I barely made enough to cover renting the chair — I was hired. I was officially a part of the shop. I would have my own chair, my own space, my own clients.
I could barely sit still.
Nero stood when he was done, opening his arms. “Welcome to the team.”
I leapt up, crashing into him and wrapping him in just as fierce of a hug as he gave me. He picked me up a little, spinning us while I chanted thank you thank you thank you over and over again.
Nero chuckled when he stopped spinning, and he slowly dropped me back to the ground. It felt a little uncomfortable how my breasts smushed up against his chest and every inch of him on the way down.
I laughed it off, though, and once I was standing again, I tried to pull out of his grasp.
But he held me tighter.
“Congratulations,” he said, looking down at me over the bridge of his nose. His breath smelled like he’d had maybe more than just that one beer. “I’m really happy you said yes.”
I laughed a little uncomfortably, again trying to break out of his grasp, but he held tighter, inhaling like I was a scented candle.
“You know,” he said, his eyes falling to my lips. “There is a way you could properly thank me… for the apprenticeship, the job…”
My stomach instantly soured.
Joy and elation were replaced by panic and revulsion as Nero stroked the side of my cheek with his knuckles. The propellers inside me started to whir, that fight or flight sensation pulsing through me.
“It’s been torture, having you working under me all this time with an ass as sweet as yours,” he said, as if that was a compliment.
No, I pleaded with the universe. No, please, no, don’t let this happen.
He hadn’t crossed a single line since that night where I’d thought I’d read too much into his compliment.
Now, he was about to cross them all.
“Before you sign the paperwork and become an employee, let’s take this momentary break in contract to have some fun,” he proposed, intensifying his grip. “What do you say?”
Warning bells rang so loud in my ears I could barely hear my own voice when I replied. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, come on,” he chided, and when he pulled me into him, his erection pressed into my belly.
I nearly gagged.
“I see the way you look at me. You’ve had a crush on me ever since you walked through that door as a fresh teen to get your first tattoo. It was adorable then, but you’ve really grown up…” He sucked in a breath like it was hurting him to restrain himself. “I promise, I can handle everything you bring to the table.”
His hands swooped down to grip my ass firmly and rub me against him, and I’d had enough.
I grabbed his shoulders, locking my eyes on his like I was giving in, my mouth on track for his…
And then hiked my knee up hard and fast right into his balls.
Nero doubled over, coughing and cursing as I backed away and out of reach.
“I’m sorry,” I said, ignoring how pissed off it made me that I was apologizing for hurting him when he was being a gross pig. But as sick as it was, I still wanted that job.
He’s just drunk, I convinced myself.
“It’s just… You have a wife. I have a boyfriend,” I added. Was Leo my boyfriend? He sure as hell was more than my friend at this point. “And… and I respect you. I don’t want anything like this to come between us.”
Nero had been bent over and red-faced the entire time I spoke, but he slowly stood upright again, spitting as if I’d hit him in the mouth and drew blood.
He stared at me with the most horrific expression I’d ever seen in my life.
His eyes were wild, but also dead — how they could be both at the same time, I had no clue. The veins in his neck pulsed and bulged, and for a moment, I thought he might attack me. I balled my hands into fists, preparing to fight.
But he just stared at me for a long moment, and then, he let out a slow breath, running his hands through his hair and turning away from me like he’d just remembered who he was.
“It’s all good,” he said with his back to me, and he started fiddling with some papers on the desk.
“Okay,” I whispered, clearing my throat. “So… we’re good here? Do you want me to just come back tomorrow when the shop is open to talk about next steps?”
“Yeah,” he said, the response short. He grabbed the iPad he’d been working on and sat in his chair again, eyes on the screen and not on me.
I swallowed, backing away from him like he was a snake. I made it to the edge of the office before I turned, and as soon as I did, he struck.
“Actually,” he said, making me pause. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
Ice slid through my veins as I spun to face him again. “No. Nero, don’t—”
“Yeah, I just don’t think you’re a good fit, now that I really think about it,” he said, not even looking at me as he threw the words like ninja stars. “Your style, if you can even call it a style at all, is more amateur than what we’re looking for. I don’t want to risk the reputation of the shop.”
“You just said I had clients already wanting to rebook,” I defended, trying to stay calm as tears welled in my eyes. “You said—”
“I was trying to be nice. No one has called to rebook, Mary.” He paused his drawing to make sure he looked at me when he said that last part. “I thought maybe you had a little potential, but I think I was making a decision with my dick rather than my head. You know how that is.”
He looked back down as I grappled to remain standing upright.
“Can’t help it, it’s a bad habit for me. Easily distracted by a pretty face and a nice set of tits.”
Each word sliced another ribbon off my skin.
“Honestly, kid — I’m not sure this is the career for you. I just haven’t had the heart to say it.”
Kid.
He was saying anything he could to kill me now.
I tongued my cheek, shaking my head and trying to find the will to speak. “Please, Nero. Don’t do this,” I croaked when I finally found it.
He sniffed, shrugging. “Sorry, I just think this is best.” He paused to look at me one last time. “Oh, and if you were thinking about any other shops in the area, I’d be careful about what you say about your time here.”
It was a threat and a promise both, the assurance that if I ran my mouth, I’d never work in Boston. He’d see to it.
Nero didn’t look at me again. Not as I stood there in disbelief, not as I numbly dragged myself out of the office, and not as I put my coat and scarf back on and slipped into the cold.
In the span of twenty minutes, I’d been promoted, assaulted, fired, and denounced by a man I’d looked to as inspiration for years.
I took ten steps toward my car, and then I vomited.
