All Chapters of Divorced and Falling for the Tattoo Master: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

~ GAVIN ~Today was one of the rare days when I was the one on the other side of the tattoo pen.The machine buzzed low as my newest artist pressed the cartridge into my arm, his hand steady. I’d known from the first line he pulled — clean and confident — that he had it. Talent wasn’t something you could fake in this business. Not on skin.At GK Tattoos, this ritual wasn’t optional. Every artist who worked here earned their place by inking me first.If I was going to let someone stain other people’s bodies under my roof, I needed to see — and feel — exactly what they could do. My clients didn’t pay a premium for basic service. This new artist was young; the youngest I’d ever considered hiring. Frizzy purple hair. Clothes two sizes bigger. A few tattoos on him, the most prominent one, an anchor under his left eye. I never got a face tattoo — nor anything on my neck or hands. All my ink, plentiful as it was, stayed carefully confined to my shoulders, wrists, and calves. I hated to adm

~ SIENNA ~I can’t believe I dared to complain about the crowd at the Boston airport, forgetting that New York’s took the cake. People were everywhere around — some loitering as if the airport was their house, others moving like they were on the run. The loud voice repeating announcements over the speakers grew fainter as I strolled out of the arrivals terminal into the pickup zone, my eyes searching for the chauffeur Dad had promised would be waiting to take me home.I found him easily.Maybe because he was holding up a placard that spelt my full name like I was a keynote speaker for one of those life-changing conferences. I chuckled at how dramatic my father could be. The chauffeur rushed over and relieved me of my luggage, throwing them into the trunk while I slipped into the backseat and waited until he took his position in front. And then we were on our way. My heart was in my mouth all through the drive. I had no idea what to expect from going home for the first time in five

~ GAVIN ~The last time I felt this kind of anxiety, I was nineteen, standing in a courtroom, waiting for a judge to decide the course of my life.Members of my family — nuclear and extended — filled the gallery behind me. Some wore sympathy on their faces; others barely hid their curiosity, eager to witness the downfall of Robert Kessler’s gifted son.But for all the people seated in the courtroom, my attention was on only one person. My mother. She was the one I was most ashamed of letting down. Most terrified of being away from. Most—“In the case of the State of Massachusetts vs. Gavin Kessler,” the judge’s voice cut through, measured and impersonal, “The court finds the defendant guilty on all counts. He is hereby sentenced to five years in prison.”The gavel struck. Final. And just like that, my fate was changed.Now, ten years later, my heart pounded the same way as I leaned over Max’s desk, watching lines of code crawl across his monitor’s screen, waiting for him to say so

~ SIENNA ~It took me a second or ten to figure out where I was when my eyes fluttered open. My gaze drifted slowly around the room, appreciating the careful, almost reverent way everything had stayed untouched — exactly as I’d left it. Slipping out of bed, I crossed the room and pulled the curtains together where thin blades of sunlight pierced through. The brightness was almost intrusive.How late had I slept? The wall clock was obviously long dead so I reached for my phone. 7:46 am.I exhaled quietly. My “evening nap” yesterday turned into a full night's sleep. The only interruption had been dinner which was delivered up to my bedroom. No surprises there. Travel always drained me. Notifications for two new missed calls from Gavin also waited on my screen. With a groan, I dropped the phone back on the bedside drawer. “Jeez, can’t he take a hint?”I let my eyes wander around the room again, waves of nostalgia washing over me.The walls were painted a soft pink and on the one o

~ GAVIN ~Ouch. That hurt. Bad.But it didn’t matter what she said to me. I was just happy to hear her voice and know — really know — that she was safe.Sienna couldn’t imagine that not all parents meant safety. I could. With a father who had tried once to get me killed, I understood that better than most.“Do you remember what I told you about being safe the first day you met me?” I asked, switching the car’s air conditioning back on, figuring I’d be sitting here a while.I had just pulled into the massive private garage of Steele group headquarters, about to step out for my meeting with Edward when Sienna’s call came in. I’d just pulled into the massive private garage of Steele Group headquarters, about to step out for my meeting with Edward, when Sienna’s call came in.“That’s it’s not being unexposed to danger,” she said slowly, trying to recall, “but being protected from it.”A small smile tugged at my lips. “Good girl. This means you’ve always been safe with me. You will alwa