“You were helping her,” I ask in almost a whisper.
“Yes.”
“So, why did you make me do everything?”
“She still owed me money, Theadora. I may be a cold-hearted prick, but I always get what’s owed to me.” And I believe him. “Now tell me… did this involve Lucy?”
“Why does she think she’s in love with you?”
He stops moving and turns to face me. “So, you did see her?”
“Yes, I saw her. Tell me, Atlas.”
“She only thinks she is because I have been one of the only men in her life who has turned her down. Your sister doesn’t like rejection. Actually, she can’t handle it at all.”
I already knew this. Lucy was like that growing up, and especially in school. If a guy rejected her, she would find a way to make him want her, and they always did. When I had my first real relationship when I was eighteen, Lucy didn’t like that, so to spite me, one day when I got home, I caught them in bed together.
Lucy is used to getting what she wants out of men; I guess Atlas was the one exception to her rule
“You never were with her?” I ask again, pulling my robe tightly around my waist but being careful as I do.
“No, never. I don’t lie. Your sister doesn’t interest me. Most women don’t, beyond a bed companion.”
I don’t comment on that, keeping my lips sealed tight.
“She is married. Why would she do that if she loves you?” I ask.
“I’ll answer that when you tell me the truth about what happened,” he asks, waving his hand toward my closed gown. “And don’t lie, Theadora, I don’t like it. What happened?”
“Why haven’t I heard from you all week?”
“You are seeing another man, Theadora.”
“No, I’m not, Atlas,” I bite back. I move to the couch and start sitting carefully, and as I do, he is by my side helping me sit.
“Zander is much like your sister, be careful of him,” he tells me, leaning in closer, his breath tickling my neck. As I look up at him, his lips are in front of mine, and I want to kiss them.
“No one is like Lucy. It’s next to impossible to be like her.” I sit back slowly.
“Just as there is no one like you,” he tells me.
My eyes lift to him. “I think you should leave. I will be back at work the minute I can move properly. I have already asked Sydney to bring my computer over, so I can do some work from home.”
Atlas stands, brushing his hands down the side of his jeans. “You don’t have to worry about work. It’s under control,” he says, walking to the door and leaving me on the couch. “I’ll be back for dinner. Curry it is,” he says, stepping out before I can tell him no. He doesn’t let me choose. He never does. He just goes ahead and does it for me, and I’m always surprised he seems to purchase what I like.
Curry is one of my favorite foods.
And Atlas is my least favorite person.
That’s a lie.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Atlas
I find it next to impossible to step out of her house, but I need to leave.
What the fuck happened to Theadora? And why won’t she tell me?
It has to do with Lucy, I just know it. It’s always about Lucy, so I call her cell, and she answers straight away.
“Atlas,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“Where are you, Lucy?”
“I’m out shopping, of course, now you don’t have me in lockdown.”
“As far as I am concerned, you need to stay locked up, Lucy,” I tell her. “It was your sister who asked for you to be let go.”
“Thea?” I can almost see the eye roll attached to that word. “You just don’t see her for who she is. No one does but me.”
“Where are you?” I ask, ignoring her smart-ass comment about her sister. She tells me where she is, and I go to her. When I arrive, she’s standing out the front, her bags in hand, sunglasses on her face, while she waits for me in her short, red skirt. Stepping out, she lights a cigarette and smirks as she blows the smoke toward me.
“Have you missed me, Atlas? It’s been days since you last saw me.” She puckers her lips and blows me a kiss. “What about a kiss for old times’ sake?”
“It’s sir to you, Lucy…” I pause. “We’ve never kissed, Lucy, and that’s not going to change anytime soon. When was the last time you saw Theadora?”
Lucy’s eyebrows rise at her sister’s name. “You call her Theadora, and she calls you Atlas. You correct me when I call you by your first name. Why not her?”
“She gets the privilege,” I tell her. “Now, tell me, Lucy, what did you do to your sister?” She stands and offers me her bags. “I’ll tell you things if you take me for a drink. I’m thirsty.”