“I don’t know what I want with you. But, Atlas?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like you,” she says with a straight face. “I don’t like you,” she repeats again.
“That’s okay, most people don’t, and I am happy with that.”
“Are you, though?” she asks, scrunching her eyebrows. “Happy, I mean. You are a man who I hardly see smile. Are you happy?”
“In moments of time… yes,” I answer her truthfully.
Theadora nods as if that’s enough.
‘“I don’t want to owe you anything. I never did.”
“You won’t,” I reply.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not killing me for her mistakes.” Theadora yawns and shuts her eyes. If she only knew that I would kill everyone around me before I would ever kill her.
My cell starts beeping, and Theadora doesn’t move, so I ignore it and roll her over. She goes easily, and I come up behind her, tucking her into my front. It’s not long before she starts to breathe ever so lightly, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.
Maybe today she won’t hate me.
But soon, very soon, she just may.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Theadora
Atlas stands at the end of my bed when I wake, with a coffee in his hand as he watches me sleep.
“That’s creepy,” I tell him, sitting up and reaching for it. I take a drink, and he doesn’t say a word. “Hey, you… you alive in there?” I snap my fingers in front of his face.
“I don’t do this,” he says while shaking his head.
“Do what?”
Atlas looks at me as if I should know the answer as his amber eyes bore into me. “I have to go.” It’s all he says before he turns and walks out.
I listen for the front door to shut before I get up. Searching for my cell, I find it on my bedroom floor, and it’s almost dead. Picking it up, I see I have a message from Nicholas. I smile as I read it.
Coffee today? Cannot wait to see you.
My smile drops as I think of the man who just brought me coffee.
But I told him, didn’t I?
That I don’t like him, and what we have is nothing.
So why can’t I have coffee with someone who I met through him?
I write back, ‘yes,’ and he tells me to meet him in one hour.
Fuck! Jumping around, I quickly get changed to make my appearance worthy, and not looking like a call girl for Atlas Hyde. Oh gosh, how many women does he have? Probably more than I want to know about.
Fixing my makeup, I go to meet Nicholas at the local coffee shop. When I arrive, he’s easy to spot. I see his blond hair and tall frame sitting down in a booth, a paper in hand, as he flicks through the pages. Hardly anyone reads newspapers anymore, but I secretly love them.
“Nicholas.”
He looks up as I approach and stands, leaning over to give me a kiss on either cheek before pulling out my chair for me to sit.
This is the kind of man I should be interested in. Nicholas is attractive in every way possible. But why when I do sit, and Nicholas looks at me, I clench my legs thinking about who was between them last night.
“You look good.” He eyes me up and down.
I’m not dressed up like I was every time I saw him on the island. Today, I am wearing a pair of jeans and a pink shirt with my handbag crossed over my chest, my blonde hair down and sunglasses on my face.
“Thanks.”
Two coffees are brought to our table, and I smile at him. “You ordered?”
“I did. I hope that’s okay.”
When Atlas does it, it doesn’t feel as if I have to thank him; it’s like a natural reaction for Atlas. Where this feels different.
“Yes, it’s great. Thank you.” I smile, putting the drink to my lips and taking a small sip. “I have to talk about that money—”
Nicholas starts shaking his head, effectively interrupting me. “No can do. It’s yours.”
“I can’t accept your money,” I tell him. “It’s too much. Really it is.”
“We have to tip the girls on that island. For one night it’s 50K. Trust me when I say it’s not enough for the company you provided me with for just a few hours.” My eyes bulge as I stare at him, blinking a few times. “You look shocked. How did you not know this?”
“No. I didn’t know at all.”
He scrunches his eyebrows together. “How didn’t you know? Did you come for free?”
“Not really, I had a debt to pay.”
Nicholas watches me like he’s trying to work it out, but that tilting of his head in concern is only fleeting. “A debt?”
“Yes, to Atlas.”
“You call him by his first name?” I bite my lip but don’t answer. “Does he allow that?” He pauses when I don’t answer again. “We all call him sir or Mr. Hyde, especially on his island. Mr. Hyde is a powerful man,” he claims categorically while looking at me. “I guess you are a prize.”