Page 75 of Claiming Atlas
There’s no leggy brunette waiting in my bed when I leave the bathroom twenty minutes later.
And like a fucking schmuck, I’d hoped she’d be here even after her stupid ass goodbye note.
At least the bed is made and the sheets are clean, though I swear I can still smell her all over this room.
I dial the concierge.
“Hello, sir, how may I help—?”
“Send up a bottle of Dom. No,twobottles. And make it quick. I have rehearsal.” I hang up the phone and head to the closet. It’s concert day, which means my outfit is simple as fuck. Black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots. So original.
Too bad Kayla didn’t leave that long white trench coat here. That would be badass on top of this outfit. Throwin’ a little Bowie in the mix. I pull my jeans on and step into my boots, then head back into the bathroom to do my hair.
There’s a knock on the door ten minutes later. I finish running my hands through my hair for that just-fucked messy look, pulling my bangs into strands over my eyes, then step away from the mirror.
They knock again.
“Fuck, I’m coming.”
I throw up both my middle fingers and give my best ‘fuck you’ look to my reflection, then pull on my t-shirt as I make my way to the door.
“That champagne better be damn cold—”
My words die when I see her.
“Icecold, Atlas.”
I wanted her gone, but now I want to pull her to me and never let go. My heart dies when I register the look on her face and the barely restrained rage in her words. “Kayla, what—?”
“Just anotherBanger?” Kayla demands as she pushes past me.
I look out into the foyer at Red.
His eyes are wide, like she just scared him into submission. He shakes his head and raises his hands. “Sorry, boss. I couldn’t stop her.”
Well, I find that hard to believe. Kayla probably weighs as much asoneof his legs. But that doesn’t matter, because she’s here, and whatever’s wrong we can fix. I close the bedroom door, then turn around to face her.
She holds a magazine in her hands. “I couldn’t even get out of the fuckingcasinobefore I saw my damn face plastered all over a newsstand.”
I shrug. “Haven’t you ever been in the news before?” I mean, she’s Kincaid Summers. Isn’t she kinda used to this?
She laughs, but it’s a sharp sound that makes me stand up taller, like my body instinctively braces itself for what’s next. I frown. Why do I react to her like this? She’s just a chick.
I take a deep breath and hold her gaze. She’s so clearly notjusta chick.
“Haven’t I ever been in the news before... wow. Yeah, no, Atlas, that would be a no. Not like this.” Her eyes glisten, but she blinks back the tears.
Shit. I was right to brace myself. She’s not just pissed, she’s upset. I hate when chicks cry. It’s so much worse when they cry.Fuck me.
She holds the magazine up and starts to read the article.“‘A source close to the band said that this was one of many in a long line of conquests—”
“Kayla—”
“‘You know Atlas,’ the source said, ‘always looking for the next notch in his belt’.” She shakes her head, lip curling as she continues. “The source, who was with Reynolds the night he met Kincaid Summers at TAO Nightclub in Las Vegas, said he spoke to the bassist of Banging Cade the next day and confirmed that the famous Miss Summers was ‘just another Banger’.” She looks up at me, and if looks could kill, I’d be a fucking corpse.
“Kayla, I never said that.”
“Someone said it.”
