Page 95 of Atlas
“Thank you,” I say, more sincerely this time.
Tom’s eyes meet mine, steady and professional, but there’s a softness there too. “You’re the one doing the hard part,” he replies. “I’m just helping you make it stick.”
My smile fades a little, shifting into something steadier. “Still,” I say, “it feels good to have someone on my side who isn’t afraid of him.”
Tom finishes his drink and sets the mug down with a faintclink. “He should be afraid ofyou, Anita. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
I bite my lip to stop the smile from spreading. “You have a way with words,” I murmur, letting my gaze drop.
But then he reaches out, takes my chin between his fingers, and lifts my face to meet his. His touch is light, careful, but his eyes burn into mine with something that feels like awe. Like he’s looking at a woman who matters.
“I’m not saying anything you don’t deserve to hear,” he says softly. “I’m just doing what every man before meshouldhave done, reminding you who you are.”
I blink, my heart stalling.
“Somewhere along the way, you forgot,” he goes on, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t. Not for a second.”
The air shifts. I lean in—not fully, not boldly—just enough to let the possibility hang between us. To see if he’ll close the space.
His eyes flick to my mouth, and I swear he sways closer for half a second. My breath catches.
But then he clears his throat and pulls back, letting his hand fall away with a quiet sigh. “We should probably get out of here,” he says, his voice rougher now. “Before I forget I'm your lawyer.”
He smiles faintly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I nod, almost lost for words as I push to my feet, my mind racing with what just happened . . . or almost happened.
Chapter Eighteen
Atlas
“Is it supposed to make that sound?” Grizz asks, eyeing the coffee machine like it might explode.
“It’s heating up,” I mutter, frowning at the blinking lights like they’ve personally offended me. “It’s fine.”
Axel leans against the counter, arms crossed, smirking like he’s watching a rom-com instead of me trying to set up the world’s most unnecessarily complicated machine. “So let me get this straight, you spent how much on a coffee machine?”
“Does it matter?”
“Depends. Is this to impress us?” He gestures between himself and Grizz. “Because if so, I take oat milk.”
Grizz chuckles. “You don’t even drink coffee these days, man.”
“Yeah, but if Atlas is making it, I might start.”
“Both of you shut up,” I mutter, fiddling with the milk frother nozzle. “It’s for Rue.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Kasey’s voice pipes up from the doorway. “You’re gonna have to do more than a cappuccino to get back in her good books.”
I glance up. She’s leaning on the frame, arms crossed, watching me like she’s amused but not unkind. Her eyes flick to the coffee machine, then back to me. “She’s still very mad.”
“I know.”
“And sad,” she adds, pushing off the door frame and stepping closer to inspect the shiny gadget.
“I’m working on making that right,” I say.
I go back to the buttons, heart thudding harder than I’d admit. The stupid machine hisses again.
“What even is that thing?” Grizz asks, peering at the instruction booklet I’ve got folded beside me. “Looks like it could launch a satellite.”
