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Ingrid

“Is this the place, are you sure?”

My heart nearly drops when I peer out the car window and take in my surroundings.

I gape at the old, worn building with graffiti visible on the alley walls near the parking garage entrance.

The building itself is intimidating with its imposing atmosphere, but oddly enough, it somehow carries a certain charm with its vintage details and wrought iron accents.

Even so, I hesitate to step out despite the impatient look the taxi driver tosses my way. “That’s the address you gave me, miss.” He looks eager to leave, so I quickly pay the man before finally stepping out of the car, dragging my case along with me.

I glance around and notice a couple of guys leaning against the wall near the alley entrance, their leather jackets glinting under the harsh afternoon sunlight. They stop smoking and turn to look at me as I drag my rolling case to the sidewalk.

Am I at the right location? I stop and tap my phone to light it up, staring at the address and instructions in the text, and yep, this is it alright. The instructions say to go to the side entrance.

The real question is, what the hell is this place? There’s a drive that leads into the underground parking lot, the first floor is a bar with mechanic shop next door, and the upper levels look like they might be apartments or offices.

This feels like some kind of a prank. My boss, Tiffany, has scheduled me with clients who live in the most random places in the past year I’ve worked for her, but this takes the cake.

A couple of weeks ago, she sent me to a high school to do makeup for the kids in the school play.

I didn’t have much experience with this, but the kids were excited and their enthusiasm made it fun.

At least with the school, I knew what was waiting for me on the other side of the door. This feels different.

Okay, Ingrid. You’re here to work. What it looks like on the inside doesn’t matter.

I take a deep breath and steer myself toward the entrance.

I can feel the men leaning against the wall watching my every move.

I try not to let their piercing gazes get to me as I drag my case behind, but even so, I find myself subconsciously angling the left side of my face away from them.

I let out a sigh when I realize that I am doing it again—hiding my flaws.

This is not the time to care what people think of me!

My heart is racing as I walk toward the entrance and just as I’m reaching for the door, someone steps in front of me.

He looks about my age—perhaps even younger—with frizzy hair that speaks of his youth, but it’s his dark eyes that send a shiver rolling down my spine.

He scans the case in my hands briefly before looking back up to meet my eyes.

“This is a private entrance; the bar entrance is around the corner,” he says with a steeliness that sends a chill rushing down my spine.

“I…I’m here to see Jade Purdy,” I say meekly before quickly adding, “I’m her makeup artist. We have an appointment.”

If possible, his eyes harden even more. “And you are?”

Right, shit. I should probably have introduced myself first. “Ingrid Huss. As I said, she’s expecting me.” My voice trembles slightly as I introduce myself to this stranger, expecting him to do the same, but he says nothing.

He narrows his eyes on me, and there is this distrustful look in them for long beats of silence. I fight the need to shuffle my feet, swallowing nervously the longer he glares at me. “Wait here.” With that, he disappears inside, slamming the door behind him.

I blink at the hostility, unsure what to make of it.

Not for the first time, I get the urge to leave as nerves bubble to the surface, but my feet stay glued to the ground.

I try to focus on anything but the looming building or the men smoking a few feet from where I’m standing.

I can feel their eyes on me, almost like a physical touch, but it’s always been that way with me.

I seem to draw attention everywhere I go, and not the good kind.

I’ve come to accept that I will always be a spectacle, no matter how hard I try to hide in the shadows.

Minutes tick by, stretching into what feels like an eternity, and just when I’m starting to think the frizzy-haired guy might not return, the door opens once more and a pair of polished dark boots step into view.

My gaze instinctively trails from the boots up to the dark jeans that cling to strong sturdy thighs. My eyes stop when I get to the white T-shirt that stretches tight across a broad chest over well-defined muscles. The T-shirt clings to the man’s torso and accentuates the defined lines of his body.

Finally, I lift my eyes to the face of the man standing in front of me, and I barely contain my surprise when I get a good look at him.

He is huge, as intimidating and fascinating as the building itself but more than that…

he’s good looking. The kind of good looking that will leave a girl feeling shy.

My breath catches in my throat at his ruggedly handsome face. He has a strong jawline, slightly shadowed by stubble. His dark hair is tousled, framing his face and enhancing the intensity of the striking olive green eyes that are locked on me.

God, he’s gorgeous.

I thought I’d met beautiful men before. Working under one of the most popular cosmetologists in the city will expose you to all kinds of people, and yet, no one has ever made my heartbeat as hard as it’s doing right now.

So much so that I forget to angle my head as I usually do when I’m trying to hide the left side of my face.

I flush at being caught gawking and try to find my tongue, but I can’t make my mouth move to save my life. This is not like me. I’m always trying to hide when in the presence of others and don’t boldly size them up; I hardly recognize myself.

Don’t just stand there and stare , yells a voice at the back of my head. Say something, Ingrid!

“She says she’s here to see Jade,” the guy from earlier says from somewhere behind this mountain of a man. “After what happened last time when Jade was kidnapped—”

“Leave us, Kyle.” The giant cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, and he disappears inside without another word, leaving me alone with this man. Well, if you don’t count the other people watching us in the alley.

Did I hear something about a kidnapping? God, maybe I should focus on that instead of getting lost in these gorgeous olive green eyes. The former should be more interesting…and concerning. It should .

“Uh, hi.” I clear my throat when it comes out a little shaky. “I’m here to see Jade. My name is Ingrid, and I’m her makeup artist here for her, um, engagement photoshoot.”

I wait for the man to point out that I am in the wrong place, but his eyes stray briefly to my case before lifting them back to mine. “What’s in the bag?”

“My kit.” I follow his eyes down to the pink suitcase I always carry with me when clients request mobile services. “Beauty stuff,” I add lamely.

“Do you have any weapons in there?”

“You mean like scissors and hairspray?” I chuckle nervously, but he doesn’t find my poor attempt at a joke funny as his face remains stoic. “No weapons. Just make up stuff.”

“I’ll have to see what you have in there.” He’s not asking, I realize.

What kind of a place is this? My boss Tiffany and I attended a fashion event with high profile celebrities, but even they were less strict than these people.

So, who are these people? Who the heck did Tiffany take as a client?

I’ve texted a bit with Jade, but I had no idea I would be met by such strict security.

Hot security at that, but security nonetheless.

“Y-yeah, I guess you can look,” I finally say, hoping he doesn’t ask me to open it where we stand. “But please be gentle with it. There are hair and makeup products that could be damaged if mishandled.”

The man nods once. “Come with me.”

He disappears inside, and I follow him. As I step through the heavy door of the building, the atmosphere shifts dramatically.

The air is thick with the scent of leather and mildly of gasoline.

There is music and a low hum of conversation that immediately dies when we walk in.

I glance around, taking in the dimly lit interior with dark wood walls adorned with vintage motorcycles and the flickering glow of neon signs.

The walls are lined with photographs of men in leather perched bikes, but I don’t let my gaze linger anywhere long.

I also try not to let the weight of the men’s stares bother me as I follow the giant further inside, my case rolling loudly behind me.

The giant leads me through the tables in the room to a bar, and when he turns to me, our eyes briefly lock.

I feel a storm of butterflies flutter in my stomach, so I quickly drop my gaze to his chiseled jaw and that firm mouth set in a hard line.

“Sit,” he says in a deep voice, and I quickly move to a stool if only to offer my weak legs some reprieve.

The man reaches for my case and lifts it onto the counter with ease, nodding for me to open it.

I swiftly unlock it before moving back, ignoring the tension of the moment.

Without a word, he begins to inspect the contents, carefully examining the scissors, combs, and brushes before moving to the section on the kit where I keep the makeup supplies and the nail care tools.

He’s almost done with his inspection when I catch a flurry of pink from the corner of my eyes, and my attention shifts completely.

A young woman bursts onto the scene; long wavy chestnut hair blowing around her pretty face as she hurries toward us. I watch her in awe, struck by her beauty and the joy that radiates from her. I find myself patting my hair in place in an attempt to hide the left side of my face.