My smile stretches wide as he enthusiastically nods. “It’sbeautiful.”
It’s funny because I’ve been told that I’m beautiful by famous designers and the owners of fashion houses. I’ve modelled for the biggest brands and had people fall over themselves to compliment me. Yet nothing has ever hit as well as the praise for my tattoos. Especially coming from the man who began as my booker and has become one of my best friends.
“You never said why this flower,” I say.
“Oh, it’s one of the ingredients in the perfume Olivier named after me.” He winks at me. “He does his best work while I’m on my front, so I thought I’d give him something pretty to look at.”
“You’re all heart.”
“No, I think about eighty per cent is my arse.”
“It’s definitely your jawbone.”
He laughs and I stand up and start to wrap the tattoo. Then I tidy up my station while he gets dressed. When he’s done, I grin at him. “Okay, aftercare instructions. And please, can we not make a sex joke?”
He laughs again, and I steer him towards the reception, listing what he has to do. When he goes to pay, I glare at him. “No way. Mate’s rates.”
His eyes narrow. “And what are they?”
“Zero.”
“Xavier Quaver, we’re staying in your villa and eating your food. The least I can do is pay for my tattoo.”
“Nope.”
He hugs me. “Thank you. I love it.” He grins at me. “I’ll go to the bakery and get dessert instead.”
“Oh, do please get something very fattening and full of sugar. Reuben will love you forever.”
“I should think he would after that yoghurt abomination you made last night.”
I pinch his arse, and he dances off, calling that he’ll catch a cab back to the villa.
“How’s it going?” a deep voice enquires.
I turn and grin at my boss. “He was happy with it.”
Rhys cocks his head. “You like the watercolours.”
“I actually do. They look like Monet coming alive on skin if done properly.”
“Well, you’ve got the knack, and at least you can’t destroy your canvases the way Monet did.”
I laugh and head back to my station to finishing cleaning. As I spray down the chair, I can feel the tiredness tugging at my muscles. Sitting in one position bent over hurts after a while, but I never feel it when I’m actually working. Reuben can earn his keep this holiday and give me a massage tonight.
I smile at the thought of him. We’ve been in Ibiza for a few months while I finish my apprenticeship. He hasn’t worked while we’ve been here and had joked last night that he liked being a kept man. Not working suits him. He’s tanned and so handsome he takes my breath away.
Rhys wanders in, sitting on my chair and swivelling it around. He’s wearing shorts that hang from his narrow hips and a torn muscle shirt that shows off the tattoos on his chest and arms. There’s a reason he has so many young men and women hanging over him, and it’s definitely not his sunny disposition, because he hasn’t got one.
I look at him affectionately. I never guessed when I met the grumpy man who’d hit his thumb with a hammer that he’d become my mentor and that I’d follow him around the world doing my apprenticeship. It’s been a rollercoaster, but I’ve never been so satisfied. I left the modelling world without a look back, and I’ve never regretted it. He’s become one of my best friends, and I love the fact that he and Reuben are such good mates too.
“You haven’t got anything to do today?” I say, getting out the glass cleaner so I can clean the mirrors.
“Nope, I’m done. I’m just waiting.”
“For a random twink to wander in and fall on your dick?”
“That was last week.”
