Page 59 of Claiming Atlas

“Indeed.” She eyes me warily, as if not believing that I don’t care about the two of them hooking up.

“Collette, for real, I didn’t know him yet. We met last night.”

She smiles slowly. “What a wonderful coincidence.” She links her arm through mine and leads me away from the dressing room.

I look back over my shoulder, longing to get out of this tiny thong.

“Now, before I send you into that dark dining room to get our boy, you must tell meeverything.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Atlas

The server instructs us to fall in line behind him, Miss November’s hand on his shoulder and my hand on her shoulder, then he leads us single file to a table. I’m not digging this whole dining in the dark thing, and I haven’t even dined yet. I definitely don’t feel titillated, whatever that means.

I’d much rather be doing anything else.

With Kayla.

At least until she moves back home, wherever that is.

I look back over my shoulder, but can’t see her. She better be waiting for me when this thing is over. Hell, even before that. I’ll eat the appetizer and maybe the main course, depending on what it is, then bolt.

Kayla can be my dessert.

I shouldn’t be disappointed about her retiring—it’s not like I’ve ever seen her perform live until tonight, which, judging by tonight, is a real fucking shame. And I shoulddefinitelynot be disappointed about her moving back to wherever she’s from, because I didn’t even know her before yesterday. And what would even come from knowing her?

A relationship?

I don’t do relationships.

And a rock star and an ex-stripper? What a fucking cliché.

As we sit down, the server helps us locate our silverware, and I can’t stand this not seeing bullshit. I place my napkin in my lap and pray that it’s black cloth because white cloth will leave tiny white specks all over this fucking suit.

Airplane chick—Collette Rhone, apparently—is classy enough to know not to provide white napkins, right?

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