I grab him by the throat, squeeze just a little, and push him up against the wall, getting right up in his face. “You set foot in my club again, I will make sure that the fucking world knows about your hidden little secret. You don't touch my girl and get to come in here and ask me for a new one. You don’t touch my girl, period!" I squeeze his neck a little tighter, watching him trying to breathe, and let go the moment I see him struggle.
“It won’t happen again,” he chokes out, as I walk away from him.
"Not in my club it won't. Now get the fuck out!" I shout. Not even turning to face him. I turn to Rhys telling him to call Ash to get the asshole out of my building. I will never, no matter how powerful or how much money they have, let them stay in my club if they hurt my staff.
I sit back down and close my eyes, and my mind goes back to her. Did she sleep last night? Has she eaten this morning? How can I make it, so she's not scared of me? There might have been a thousand different ways I could have played this, but both my heart and head only came up with this. I couldn’t see any others or maybe I just didn’t want to. My need for her is just too strong.
“You going to see her?” Rhys asks, and I look at him and wonder what he’s getting at. “You can’t hide from her forever, if that’s the plan, let her go.”
“No,” I reply, but he has a point; I can’t hide in my office.
I throw my jacket on the back of the chair, if she doesn't see me in a suit it might be less scary; at the moment I everything I do is going to scare her, but I can at least try to make her feel like I'm not there to hurt her.
I walk out of the office, through the side door which leads straight to my master bedroom. The only way in there is with a security code, which only I know.
The way the house is set, having my room next to the office, is best; I like to be on top of everything that happens here. The club is open all day, so if something was to go wrong during the night, I can get to the office fast.
I make my way to her bedroom but as I reach the door, I just stand there, unsure of what to do. Should I knock?
I stand there for a moment, as I think what to say to her.
I don’t knock; instead, I open the door trying to be confident. I see her looking out of the window then down at something I can't see. I make my way over to her, and she still hasn't noticed me, I glance at the plate, full of the food she didn't eat. I get closer to her; I see that she is drawing something, but I can’t see what. As I get closer to her, she closes it quickly, which makes me think what she is drawing. Is it her nightmare? Is it the garden? Brooklyn turns around, taking a step back, making me stop in my tracks. I thought I was bringing quiet, not quite enough it seems.
A few moments pass in silence before I speak. "I wish you had eaten breakfast," I say, soaking in her beauty once more. I'm holding myself back from being closer to her, and it's starting to hurt now. I want to kiss her; I want to relive what it felt like.
"Did you sleep well?" I ask as she doesn't make any comment about her uneaten breakfast; but, again, I'm regaled with silence. I knew she wouldn't talk, but I don't know what to say to her either.
"It occurs to me I've not told you my name. I'm Atlas." She hasn't met my eyes yet, it's like she’s avoiding them.
“Why am I here?” She asks as she walks away from me, and I watch her walk around the room. “If you’re going to rape or kill me, I’ll tell you now that I won’t go down without a fight."
"I'm not going to rape or kill you," I tell her, and she finally looks me in the eyes. They show something different, now, like she’s almost questioning herself. What does she see when she looks at them? Is it fear, or something else?
If I’m not here to be raped or murdered, then why the hell am I here? I have no money for him, I have no family to ask for ransom, not that he looks like he needs it. What could he want with me? There are more questions than answers, and it’s confusing me.
I study his face again; his jet-black hair falls a little over to the side, he has scruffy facial hair. It looks good on him. Whenever I was in hospital, which was a lot, I spent all day watching T.V. shows about doctors, high-school kids; and seeing the men in those shows made me smile. The ones with some facial hair were the ones that I seemed to like the most, I don’t know why, but there was something about how it looked on them.
I never got to go to high school and talk to the boys, so I never knew what I liked in a man, the doctors that saw me were all old, so for me, my life was lived through a T.V. screen. T.V. shows were the closest thing I got to experiencing real life.
My eyes move to his; goosebumps cover my skin as a rush of adrenaline flows through me. Flashbacks reeled through my mind. The dreams I've been having have started with those eyes. The way my body reacts when he looks at me, things I know I shouldn't feel for a man I've never met, is intimidating.
He doesn't look at me like he wants to kill me; he looks at me like I'm the only person he sees. The way he looks at me creates a strange feeling inside me; it feels like he can hear every heartbeat inside my chest, my every breath. He is watching me carefully; it feels like he doesn’t want to miss a movement I make.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
If I can find out why I’m here then it would be easier to bear; I would know what I have to do, so I can leave.
He licks his bottom lip; I’ve asked a question he either doesn’t know the answer to or doesn’t want to answer. His forehead creases as he looks at me, I watch as his eyes move from my eyes to my lips.
I take a step back, I don’t know why, my body did it by itself. “You know, someone is going to notice I’m missing sooner or later,” I tell him.
I only booked a week off, and Gabby will probably go over to my apartment when I don't show up at work. Well, that's what I'm hoping anyway. It’s still a week I’m going to be gone, though. That’s a long time to me, right now; anything can happen in that time.
“You quit your job, so no one at your workplace will think anything of it. But your friend Gabby seems to be messaging you about her weekend, but someone has been replying,” he tells me.
What? My legs are getting weak as the fear runs through my body, the pit of my stomach is heavy with dread about what he will do to me. I want to throw up, this is crazy. He is doing everything to make sure no one will look for me, so how the hell can I believe that he doesn’t want to kill me?
He takes a step forward and, in a split second, something changes; I have no idea what, but he looks like he's fighting himself, rocking as he takes each step. Half of him is trying not to walk towards me, the other battling to be closer to me. Each stride to me is a push and pull, he stops for a second then continues. What fight is he having with himself?
Atlas stops centimeters away from me, and the smell of aftershave hits me; the deep woody, musky scent gives me an arousal I can't explain. I lick my lips as I close my eyes and then a floral scent hits me.
Have I smelt that scent before? As the question repeats in my head, it begins to get dizzy, and I can’t get my brain to unfreeze and begin to work, as I take in the fragrance, wanting to figure out why it’s so intoxicating to me. The hammering against my ribs is unbearable, I feel a tightening in my lungs as an unfamiliar attachment towards Atlas washes over me, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, it’s stronger, purer, and I don’t know what to do with this feeling. I place my hand over my chest feeling the rapid beats pounding against my ribs; racing at a rhythm new to me.