Read Capello Brothers 2 Command My Heart Online
Authors: J'aimee Brooker
Tags: #romance, #tattoo, #submission and dominance, #sex, #sex fantacy
Capello Brothers 2 Command My Heart
Command My
Heart
Book two of The
Capello Brothers series
Command My
Heart
By J'aimee
Brooker
Copyright 2013
J'aimee Brooker
Smashwords
Edition
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More in The
Capello Brothers series:
Draw On My Heart
Train My
Heart
Acknowledgements
I owe a massive
debt of thanks to my husband Jason, who has always pushed me toward
my dreams and guided me through the darkest depths of self-doubt
and creative uncertainty.
Contents
More in the Capello Brothers
series
More from the Capello Brothers: Draw On My
Heart
More from the Capello Brothers: Train My
Heart
CHAPTER
ONE
100…110…120…
Just watching
the speedo rise was enough to lower the pressure that’d been
building up all week. The thrill of knowing I was in control of a
bike that could easily handle 230km per hour of pure speed gave me
an adrenaline rush every time.
My Ducati had
been the first big purchase I’d made a couple of years ago and the
feeling of controlling this beast of a bike was exciting. It was
the perfect complement to my lifestyle and the things I enjoyed;
control, speed, and thrill.
Manoeuvring
around the bends under the watchful guidance of the moon, I
realised it’d been too long since I’d hit the open road; in fact
it’d been too long since I’d enjoyed any of life’s pleasures. Not
that I indulged in many vices. Growing up with an alcoholic father
had ensured I didn’t drink and though the opportunity for other
intoxicants had always been available around the tattoo scene, I’d
never bothered with those either. In fact, all that really held my
excitement was my bike and women.
Since taking
over Roman’s tattoo studio while he was holidaying in Italy with
Cassandra, and him signing over the fifth studio to me on his
return, it’d been months since I’d done anything other than
work.
Controlling
each curve that the road threw my way was in some way relaxing. The
power required to lean into each bend and corner while still
holding just enough balance to maintain equilibrium was
intoxicating. It was the same with women. Well, at least it would
be if I could find one who could keep up with me.
Over the years,
I’d only discovered two types of women: those who put up a chase
initially to get my interest but once they hooked my attention and
things progressed past the bedroom into relationship territory, the
chase would be over and so too my interest.
Or worse, were
the women who seemed to completely lose their own identity once we
started dating, they’d become dependent on my every move and
decision almost immediately. It was just too hard trying to keep up
with that kind of emotional rollercoaster.
All I wanted
was a woman who’d keep me on my toes; not one who surrendered
immediately to a relationship and expected a diamond and white
picket fence. Not that I didn’t want that happily ever after stuff;
I wanted that eventually, but until I could find a woman who could
maintain the thrill and excitement of a relationship it’d never
happen.
As I rounded
the last corner and the road straightened so too did my thoughts. I
was almost at my destination, my own personal hiding spot, a place
I could ride to, to relax and take stock of life. It’d been too
long between visits and I needed the time out more than I needed to
be anywhere else right now.
There was once
a time when Friday nights meant parties, music and girls but now
with the pressures of running my own studio, life was suddenly
becoming more stressful and the stakes had become increasingly more
important.
For weeks, I’d
had to fight to get tradies in to finish the studio, had to
negotiate with suppliers to buy and deliver equipment and stock,
and worst and most tediously of all, I’d had to employ staff.
I’d sent word
around the usual channels and had two guys in mind who I had
poached from other studios.
But then there
were the people who applied. My god, it was no wonder some of them
couldn’t get work. From blokes with home tattoo ‘careers’, to an
arts degree drop-out who was impressively creative but had never
seen the inside of a tattoo studio let alone a needle gun. I even
had one application from a guy who proudly listed his hands-on
tattooing experience from his time behind bars. Seriously, this
week, I had seen it all.
Fortunately,
I’d successfully secured Joseph Valenti and Mark Halls, both guys
who came with brilliant reputations and would bring with them
strong client bases. Combined with my client list and the publicity
we were scheduled to receive in
Inked Magazine,
the studio
would certainly open with a bang and sustain itself easily for the
first six months at least.
I had my eye on
another guy, known in the industry as Spider who was almost willing
to come across and work for me. However the studio he worked for
had gotten word that I was trying to poach him and they were now
putting up a fight. They didn’t want to lose him and likewise, I
wasn’t giving up until he was on my team. I rarely lost, so I knew
it was a given. I’d gone back to him this afternoon with an offer
of more money and I knew he’d come across; it was just a matter of
time now before he accepted my offer.
Which just left
me short one more artist. I’d get by the first few weeks with just
the three guys but ideally, I needed a fourth artist, if for no
other reason than to deal with walk-in’s and to establish some new
business leads.
I slowed to a
stop and flicked the latch on my helmet; taking in my first deep
breath for weeks. At night, the view was spectacular. The city
lights da nced across the water in the distance and the sweet smell
of thick salt and fresh air almost burned my nostrils—a welcome
change from the air-conditioned studios I'd been couped up in for
the past few months.
I centred
myself with some deep breaths. I’d always found the water calming,
an odd but somehow steady balance to a life I otherwise preferred
to be intense and thrilling.
So, one more
staff member… I’d exhausted the list of applicants; there was no
way I could take any of them on-board if I wanted to be taken
seriously. Speaking of which, I reached into my pocket to check my
phone. Not that I’d get any coverage out here, but Spider did
promise he’d get back to me today. Checking my phone, the text was
sitting there,
“I’m in. See ya Monday”
.
Now, I could
relax.
Kicking out the
stand, I steadied the bike before stripping off my boots and socks
and heading to the water. Just to feel the sand and water on my
feet would be enough. I’d love a swim but in all reality, I simply
didn’t have the energy. Walking along the sand, feeling the tiny
waves lapping around my ankles I finally felt relaxed.
The ebb and
flow of the tide had always intrigued me. Everyday, regardless of
what was thrown its way, the ocean maintained its own perfect,
primitive consistency. I liked that, liked the reliability.
Heading back up
to my bike, I rested on the sandy grass and stared out the sea;
yep, she was perfect alright. Consistent to a fault and beautiful
under any conditions; relaxing when calm and thrilling when she was
angry. If I was ever going to find the right woman, she’d need the
same characteristics. Thinking about it like that way, it was
hardly a surprise I was single; I was starting to doubt that
combination was even possible in a woman.
CHAPTER
TWO
My head jerked up as the door banged hard.
The glazier had
barely left and someone was already trying to smash the glass.
“Hey, what
the—“ I started, before falling into the roundest, darkest brown
eyes I’d ever seen, the air sucked out of my lungs at the
sight.
“I’m looking
for the owner—“ she replied, studying a tiny piece of paper and
juggling a massive bound folder in her hand, “Dominic Cap… Capel…
Capello?” she stammered.
For an easy
surname, people sure had a lot of trouble getting their tongue
around it.
“Yeah, that’s
me” I said, walking over to where she was standing. As I got
closer, she seemed to grow smaller and smaller. By the time I was
standing in front of her she was positively tiny.
“Sorry about
the door, it’s windy out there and the door’s kinda heavy, and well
this—” she said referring to the folder.
“That’s ok.
What can I do for you—“
“Inta. My name
is Inta.”
“Ok, what can I
do for you Inta?” I re-asked, smiling at her confident yet awkward
appeal.
“I heard you
might have a job opening for an artist and I wanted to see if you
might look at my portfolio and consider me for your team. I know
you’ve already got Halls, Spider, and Joe Valenti and word around
is that you’re building one hell of a team, and well, I’m not as
good as those guys but I am good.” she replied unwaveringly before
passing me the oversized folder.
Giving her a
quick once-over, I noticed she really was small. Short and thin,
there was no way this chick could handle herself if there was
trouble in the studio. She sure was beautiful though. Long dark
hair tied back off her face showcased her strong cheekbones and
jawline, and those eyes—I could easily lose myself in them if I
wasn't careful. Looking back to her face to make eye contact, I
realised I'd been busted checking her out and felt myself blush
slightly at being caught; "I’m not really looking for a—“
“…what a girl?
You’re not looking for a girl, is that it?” she huffed clearly
annoyed.
“Well, yeah. I
mean, no offense or anything but the last thing I need is to be
looking out for a girl who can’t handle herself with a client. You
know how these places can get—“ I started before being met with the
most vicious stare I’d ever encountered on a woman.
Hand cocked
firmly on her hip, and the other one outstretched reaching for her
folder, she was like a volcano getting ready to erupt. Geez, maybe
I'd underestimated her; this one was alive and kicking!
Sensing her
anger, I playfully held the folder above my head forcing her to
unsuccessfully stretch up to reach it. Laughing at her lame
attempts served only to madden her further, but with a temper like
hers it was almost irresistible not to push a little further.
Clearly unimpressed with the game, she leant in to grab her folder
and the pushed the entire length of her body into mine, her breasts
hitting me right above the stomach and simultaneously leaving me
breathless, not from the impact but simply from her contact. If the
heat she was exuding was anything to go by, she was one hot little
firecracker.
“Now, now Miss
Inta. No need to be like that, play nicely" I joked. "Let’s have a
look at your portfolio; if your work stacks up, we’ll talk” I said,
silently praying her work would be good enough to justify keeping
her around. I liked a woman with attitude, and Inta sure had plenty
of that.
“Don’t call me
that” she sulked, though I could tell she was silently grateful
that I was considering her for a job; work for female tattooists
was hard to find in decent establishments.
“What? Miss
Inta? You don’t like that?”
“No. I
don’t.”
“Ok, Inta. Come
through” I said, gesturing her toward my office.
She immediately
tensed and her posture shifted to an almost defensive stance. Shit,
she thought I was hitting on her, that I’d make her ‘earn’ her job.
I’d heard about other studio owners resorting to making female
artists ‘perform’ for their job, but I’d never thought too highly
of that kind of behaviour. I loved women, and sex, as much as the
next guy but I’d never stoop that low.
