Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(87)

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 walkins. 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.