Page 7 of Atlas
Leo runs over panting for breath and covered in mud. He grins wide, and I high-five him because, apparently, he’s too big for hugs in front of his teammates. “Well done,” I say. “You did amazing.”
“You only just got here,” snaps Damian, rolling his eyes.
Leo’s smile fades, and I force a smile. “Two goals, that’s amazing.”
“Where was your head in the second half?” demands Damian. “If the scouts had shown up today, they wouldn’t have looked twice.”
I grit my teeth and inhale sharply. “Go and change, Leo, and I’ll take you for lunch.”
He nods, rushing off to change. “Not a chance,” snaps Damian. “Firstly, he played crap, so he’s not having a treat, especially if it involves junk food. And second of all, your day is Monday. You know that.”
“Don’t be spiteful. He can come for lunch, and I’ll drop him back.”
“Take him out Monday.”
“I’ll be an hour, Damian. He wants to come with me.”
He turns to face me, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stepping closer. I hold my stance, determined not to let him intimidate me. “You look a fucking mess, Anita. You stink of drink and last night’s cheap fuck. So, do us all a favour and leave.”
I fix my eyes on his. “No,” I say firmly. “He can decide for himself.”
His cruel eyes narrow. “It’s like you want to humiliate yourself. He doesn’t want to go anywhere with you looking and smellinglike that. He’s embarrassed, we both are, but you keep showing up here like a desperate reject and he feels sorry for you.”
Leo comes over carrying his kitbag and eyeing us cautiously. I step back, forcing another smile. “Are you ready?”
He glances at his father and then bites his lower lip like he’s fighting to find the right words. “It’s fine, son, be honest with her,” Damian encourages.
“It’s just . . . I want to go home and practise,” he says, shrugging. “If I played crap, I need to put more hours in.” My heart sinks at the sound of Damian’s words pouring from my little boy’s mouth. “And I don’t want to eat junk food anymore,” he adds.
I nod, pressing my lips in a firm line. “That’s fine, kiddo, whatever you want. I’ll pick you up on Monday from school?” He nods. “Great. Love you.” I turn and force myself to walk away.
I stride through the clubhouse like I own the place, and no one bats an eyelid. The club girls are tidying up from last night’s party, and there’s no sign of the bikers or their women.
I take the stairs two at a time, and just as I reach Atlas’s door, it swings open and a woman saunters out. I stop dead in my tracks and frown, following her with my eyes. She’s stunning but has all the marks of a club girl. “What?” she asks as she fiddles with her hair, wrestling it into a ponytail.
“Who are you?”
“Who the fuck are you?” she spits and then storms off in the direction of the stairs.
I open Atlas’s door to find him sprawled out on his bed. He’s face down, topless but his jeans still in place. I slam the door, and he jumps up looking dazed. When his eyes find me, he relaxes. “Nita,” he mutters, looking confused. “What day is it?”
“Saturday,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest. “Good night?”
He perches on the edge of the bed and reaches for his mobile, opening it and sighing heavily. “Shit, it’s almost twelve.”
“New club girl?” I ask, arching a brow.
His frown deepens, then realisation hits him and he nods. “Yeah, Sasha, I think her name is. She’s got a twin too.”
I can’t be pissed at him. I gave him the go-ahead. In fact, I encourage him all the time to get with other women as I don’t need him thinking we’re exclusive. But he’s never actually done it. At least, not that he’s told me.
“Well, she was rude,” I mutter, pulling my top over my head and dumping it on the floor.
“She’s not a morning person.”
“You’ve spent a few mornings with her, have you?”
He frowns again. “What are you talking about?” I slide my jeans off, kicking my trainers with them. “And what are you doing?” he adds.
