Inked.

Dominick's POV

I stared at the invitation on the table for the hundredth time since one of my men brought it to me. It was from my father, an invitation for my wife and me to a stupid ass party he was throwing.

This didn't sit right with me. I was the don of the Phoenix Mafia; I should be the one throwing these sorts of parties, not my father and his silly wife. But I needed to go, if for anything, to speak with Elle.

It's been a week since she and my father came back from their trip, and I was yet to speak to her. That witch's been rejecting my calls.

Well, I better get to work. I made my way upstairs to Luna's room, entering without bothering to knock. She immediately sat up on her bed, looking confused.

"Get up and prepare, we're going out," I ordered, about to leave but stopped when she called my name.

"Where are we going?" Her voice was hesitant.

"Somewhere important. Quit asking silly questions and get dressed in," I glanced at my wristwatch, "twenty minutes." I left her alone and went to my room to get ready.

After thirty minutes, we were both settled in the backseat of my car. I gave the go-ahead, and the driver drove off. Of course, as the don of the Phoenix Mafia, I didn't venture out alone; I always went with backup, and today was no exception as my men followed behind in their cars.

The car stopped at the Elite Clothing store, a high-end boutique, and we quickly alighted. I made my way inside without bothering to see if Luna was following behind me.

The manager rushed to welcome us, ushering us inside.

"Get her some nice fits, just as I told you," I ordered, and he nodded.

"I'll do just that, boss. This way, Mrs. Phoenix," he motioned at Luna, who looked surprised, and followed after him.

I had to do something drastic about her wardrobe. It was too fucking different in style compared to Sol's. I waited for several long minutes and became bored. I decided to check on Luna, surprised to see her glaring at the manager.

"Is there a problem?"

"She's refusing the clothes you specifically chose for her," the manager said hesitantly.

"They're not my style," she whined, eyeing the rack of clothes as if they were poisonous.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "We've already spoken about this. You're my wife now, and you will do exactly as I fucking say. And I don't want my wife to look like a freaking country bumpkin."

"But..."

"I'll take all of them," I said to the manager before facing Luna. "I wanted to give you the honor to pick by yourself, but you messed it up. Let's go."

How many times did I have to spell it out to her that she's supposed to be Sol, not Luna? Sol doesn't dress like a fucking pauper.

We went back inside the car, and I ordered the driver to take us to our next destination.

We arrived at the tattoo parlor, stepping out of the car. "Follow me closely," I motioned to Luna, who looked confused as to why we were at a tattoo parlor. Well, very soon, she'll find out.

"Hello boss," Dave, my personal tattoo artist, greeted me, getting up from his chair. "This must be your wife," he said, turning to Luna. "Welcome, Donna."

Luna smiled shyly, giving him a curt nod. "Thank you."

"This way, please," Dave led us to the tattoo bed. "Please take off your clothes and lie down."

Luna's brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. Why should I take my clothes off?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Because you're getting a tattoo on your back."

She stepped back immediately, shaking her head in horror. "But I told you I don't like tattoos."

I jerked her arm, pulling her closer. "Well, since you're pretending to be Sol," I whispered, "this is necessary. So you're going to take off your damn clothes and get on that bed or I'll fucking rip off your clothes myself."

I released her, watching in amusement as she blinked away a few tears. She wrapped her arms around her chest, glancing around. "But, I can't do it with them here."

I drew in a deep breath, trying to keep calm before snapping my fingers. "Everyone get out of here and join the rest outside." My men nodded and left immediately.

"So," I raised a brow, "get to it." She hesitated a bit, fiddling with her dress, and I knew it was because of Dave. "Turn around, Dave."

Dave did exactly that, and it was just me and Luna. She still hesitated. Don't tell me it's because of me now? Tired of this bullshit, I approached her, turned her around roughly, and unzipped her dress. The dress fell off, revealing tanned skin.

She was wearing a blue lace bra and panties, and they did kind of look good. I reached for the bra hook and felt her stiffened under my fingers. Ignoring her theatrics, I unhooked the bra and pushed her gently to lie on the bed. Glancing at the table beside me, I took a plain cloth and covered her from waist down.

"Satisfied?" I asked, and she nodded, but kept her eyes closed. "You can turn around, Dave."

Dave arranged his equipment and settled next to her to begin his work. Of course, the picture of Sol's red dragon tattoo was placed right in front of him for direction and a neat work.

"Make sure it's exactly as seen in the picture."

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

I picked up Luna's dress and settled down across from them.

Dave brought up the needle. "Okay, hang in there. I promise it won't hurt," he said to Luna. She was literally shaking, and even Dave was amused. She was my wife, for fuck sake.

As he worked, Luna sobbed silently, gritting her teeth to try and muffle the sounds. Again, it was pathetic. She was nowhere near Mafia material and too fucking weak compared to her sister. I can't cope with this; I have to find Sol quickly. Luna wouldn't last a year in this lifestyle.

** A Week Later.

I glanced at my wrist watch impatiently. It had been hours already; Luna should be done by now. My father is going to throw a fucking tantrum if we arrive any later than this.

The clicking of heels alerted me that she was approaching. My eyes went up, widening in surprise to see her coming down the stairs. Fuck! I felt my pulse quicken and my dick harden. She looked stunning in that silver sequined evening gown, her golden hair shining under the chandelier.

If only she wasn't such a wuss, I would have had her on all fours and pounded her into oblivion. But no, she's too fucking innocent for me.

She approached gently, wrapping her arms around her midriff. "All set."

"Drop your arms," I instructed. "And turn around." She swallowed nervously and turned her back towards me. "Perfect, it's perfect." I nodded in satisfaction at the red tattoo on her back. Dave did a damn good job.

"You can turn around now." She complied but averted her gaze. "Look at me," I commanded, and reluctantly, her gaze met mine. "Raise your chin high and be confident. Remember what I told you?"

"Yes," she muttered shyly.

"And what did I say?"

"Be confident, bold, and don't let anyone intimidate you."

"Exactly. We're going into the lion's den, so you have to be prepared." She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

I grabbed her arm, and we headed straight to the door. Let's just hope we survive the night without screwing things up, or all hell fucking will break loose.