Page 46 of Primal
“New rule,” Declan gruffly declares. “The lot of you no longer talk about wanking to or fucking my wife.”
“I just want it on record that I haven’t wanked to thoughts of your wife in a couple of months,” I share, trying very hard not to sound too smug.
Declan huffs before shoving from his seat and grabbing a bottle of Tullamore Dew from behind the bar. “Fuck the lot of you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CATLIN
As I’m sitting in the backseat of a blacked-out Suburban as Owen drives me to Layla’s place, I pull my phone from my purse and shoot her a text.
Owen said we’ll be there in about 5 minutes
LAYLA
I’m ready, waiting in the lobby, and I just confirmed that everything is all set
Fantastic! Finn is going to die.
Girl, I hope you’ve been drinking your water because that man is going to shit bricks.
And then he’s going to fucking ruin you.
I snort at her message, drawing Owen’s attention. “You okay, ma’am?”
For now…
“Fine.” I chuckle as he pulls to the curb at the front of Layla’s building. “And please, would you please call me Catlin?”
“Sorry, ma’am.” He glances into the rearview mirror to make eye contact with me, and he shakes his head as Layla’s bodyguard opens the rear passenger door for her to slip into the backseat. After closing the door, he takes the empty seat up front to come with us.
Layla gives me a tight squeeze, introduces me to Grady—who also calls me ma’am—and provides Owen with the address of our destination.
“I still can’t believe you’re doing this!” Layla exclaims as we make the short drive to Hell’s Kitchen.
She isn’t the only one.
“He’s determined to mark every inch of me. I’m just helping him out,” I jest. A few minutes later, we pull up to the shop. Owen opens my door for me, another of Finn’s rules about safety. Walking to the door of the shop, I squeeze Layla’s hand. “I really appreciate you coming with me and being my emotional-support person when I probably cry.”
As we step inside, I clutch her hand even tighter. I’m surprised to find the shop isn’t quite as intimidating as I expected. Plants and leather couches line the wall to my left, and it’s almost cozy. The rear wall has small cubbies with a chair similar to the ones at the dentist’s office. The walls of each are adorned with various art from the artist’s portfolio. To my right is a large reception desk with a man sitting behind it covered in more ink than Finn.I didn’t think that was possible. I startle when he shouts, “Fresh meat!”
“Be nice, Jimmy,” Jillian reprimands him as she walks toward the desk. “I don’t appreciate you talking to my clients like that?—”
“This sweet little virgin-skinned piece of ass isyourclient?” He scoffs.
“Yes”—she nods—“And her boyfriend most definitely won’t appreciate you talking about her like that.”
“Is that so, little one?” he asks as his eyes rake over my body. “Who’s your big scary boyfriend?”
“Finnigan Evans,” I answer, watching his entire demeanor immediately change. The reaction those two words have on men never ceases to amaze me. I know Finn has a different side to him—a bad one—but the fear the kind-hearted man I love invokes in others continues to baffle me.
His eyes suddenly meet mine instead of my breasts when he talks, and he quickly stammers through an apology. “I was just kidding around. Do you need a bottle of water or anything?”
Jillian leads me to the back of the shop, but we go to a private room instead of a cubby. She gestures for me to take a seat in the black leather chair as she grabs a stool for Layla to sit beside me. She wheels up beside me on a second one. “You look nervous, sweetie. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I am. To both,” I answer. “Your work on Finn is amazing?—”
“And she’s seen all of it. A lot,” Layla jests, helping to ease my nerves.