Vanessa’s POV
Stepping into my tattoo shop felt like entering another world, a world where I was in control and the master of my own destiny. Here, no one could order me around or intimidate me.
The familiar sights and sounds of the shop enveloped me, filling me with nostalgia. The walls painted my favorite color, pink, and the scent of ink and antiseptic mingled with the buzzing tattoo machines and low hum of conversation. This was the world I had missed dearly during my time away, a place where I could freely express myself and create art without constraint.
As I stood behind the counter, surveying the shop with pride, my two employees, Krystal and Leah, entered with a bottle of champagne, their faces lit with excitement. They wore hot pink shirts and jeans bum shorts—sexy as hell.
