I enter by myself, while almost everyone else in here is standing with someone or holding someone’s hand.
“Can I get you a drink?”
I smile and shake my head, and the waiter walks away. Walking around, I spot Atlas straight away. He isn’t hard to miss. I think almost every woman here has ogled him at some point. Even the wife whose husband Atlas is talking with is looking at him as if he’s her next meal, even as she stands there holding her husband’s arm.
I look away from his perfectly crafted hair and nose ring that makes him look even more appealing. Reaching in my bag for my AirPods, I place them in my ears with my phone in hand and walk to a small empty table situated behind a few guys who are bundled around another table talking.
“Yes, I know what you mean, but explain it again,” I say to my phone with my AirPods in my ears as I feel eyes on me. Of course, I have loosely placed the AirPods so I can still hear everything being said. Most people will go about their conversations if they think you’re preoccupied.
Which is exactly what they do.
“He came alone,” one man says.
“He’s never alone. Don’t fool yourself. He didn’t get where he is at his age being foolish. Now go and introduce yourself before he moves to the next, and take that piece of ass with you, so she can pry her way into his bed.”
I look to my side and see one man walk away with a woman attached to his arm. Not too far in front of them is Atlas. He’s holding a drink in hand while he nods his head to what someone’s saying. I watch as the man with the woman walks up to him, then watch in fascination as the woman does exactly what she was asked to do, stands next to Atlas and turns on her charm.
Is she like me? Being blackmailed into doing things we don’t want to? It’s the only explanation I can give myself for why this woman is listening to men to sell herself to.
Atlas’s eyes flick to me, and my cell buzzes in my hand.
Atlas: What did you hear?
His name comes up as I read the message. Looking away from him, I type out my reply and watch as he reads it.
Me: She’s to find a way to sleep with you.
His lips move as if he’s fighting a smirk while he glances at the man who’s in front of him. The man laughs at something Atlas says, but Atlas makes no movement to indicate he cares for what this man has to say. Atlas places an arm around the woman, leans down and whispers in her ear, and while he does, his eyes search for mine, locking on as he whispers to her, then looks away. My breath, which I didn’t realize I was holding, escapes, and I make a move to the bar. The waiter comes over, and I order a glass of champagne—one glass can’t hurt, and I really need it right now to calm my nerves.
Turning around with the glass in hand, I almost spill it as I bump into Atlas, who’s there in front of me. He takes the glass from my hand and walks back to where he was previously standing.
What the actual fuck?
“Well, didn’t see that one coming,” a voice comes from next to me.
Turning, I come face to face with a man who’s dressed to kill. He looks good, really good. The man almost rivals Atlas with his looks, but there’s something about Atlas that makes him stand out from the rest.
The man picks up a handful of peanuts and throws one into his mouth, closing his lips to chew. He has full lips and high cheekbones. His light-colored hair is a contrast to his tanned skin and playful smile. He almost looks like he’s walked out of a surfing competition and threw on a suit.
Choosing to ignore him, I turn around and order a water instead. This time when I turn around, no one is there to take it from me.
Fuck! I really do need a drink now.
“So, you’re his new plaything.” Turning back to that voice, another peanut is popped into his mouth. He throws the next one high in the air and catches it. When I don’t answer, he smirks. “My guess is he told you not to talk. Smart move.” He nods, then looks at where Atlas is standing. I follow his line of sight and watch as Atlas walks away with that woman, his hand on her hip as they disappear out of sight.
I look to the stranger who seems to know more than he should, and offer him a smile before I place my water down and go to where I saw Atlas leave.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I look back, and the stranger smiles. “Name’s Benji, sweetheart.” I don’t give him my name. Instead, I simply offer a small smile before I continue to follow Atlas.
As I reach the door I saw him walk out of, I push it just a fraction and freeze as I hear sounds, very familiar sounds.
Grunts and groans of pleasure.
Pushing the door just a little bit farther, I see him, his back against the wall with that woman down on her knees as she strokes his cock with her hand, her red lips wrapped around the top.
I should walk away.
I should back away slowly, so he doesn’t know what I’ve just seen, but as I look up, I see him smirking as if he knew I would follow.
My eyes go wide as the girl tries to take more of him in her mouth, but she can’t because he’s so big.
My eyes flick back up to him, and his hand is now in her hair, gripping it as he shows her exactly what to do—what he likes.
As he closes his eyes, enjoying the moment, I back away, letting the door close.
And I wonder if I run, will he catch me?
Chapter Eight
Atlas
I get off when people think they can fuck with me, that they can have what’s mine, and try to take it from my greedy hands.
That, of course, is impossible and will never happen.
Once I lay claim to something, I do not let it go. It’s why I have not taken a woman longer than a few nights. I would swallow a woman whole, and she wouldn’t be able to escape me. That’s what type of love mine would be—all-encompassing—and I know this, so I stay away.
The girl between my legs comes up for air, licks her pink lips, and tries to lift my shirt.
That is not going to happen.
Pushing her hands away, I tuck myself back into my pants and straighten my suit.
She gets off her knees and pulls her dress down. “You don’t want to fuck? We could go back to yours and do what you want… all night,” she sing-songs the last two words.
“No. Go back to Harry and tell him your services have been fulfilled.”
Her face drops, and she looks down at the floor.
“It’s not like that,” she says.
“It is. And sweetheart? You can do better.” I give her my card and walk out the door, the same one Theadora slipped out of. She’s easy to spot, standing out like a rose in the middle of thorns. In her hand is a glass of water, and I want to smile that she listened to me.
“My man.” Someone taps on my back.
I turn to see Benji and shrug him off, to which he offers me a smile.
“She’s a looker, that one. You pick her?” His eyes find Theadora and then switch back to me. “What am I saying… of course you did. You would have had her under watch for at least a few weeks.” He pins me with his eyes. “Or shorter maybe, considering how controlling of her you are already.”
“She’s a pawn in a game. Nothing more.”