Atlas' green eyes dart to meet mine and there's a cloudiness in his gaze. He's in quite the predicament. Either he admits he thinks I'm pretty and I can use it to my advantage, or he can claim he doesn't think I'm attractive and I'm positive Zuri will punch him straight in his mouth for the sheer audacity.
My heart flutters at the idea of Atlas being attracted to me or finding me slightly appealing. I wish his opinion didn't matter to me, but it does. In Midori, I was confident in my looks, almost to the point of being vain, but I'm still not comfortable in my new skin – or rather, my true form. I silently plead for Atlas to be kind, even if that means he lies to spare my feelings.
The corner of his mouth ticks upward and my stomach drops. "Even a blind man can see how beautiful she is."
My breath is snatched from my body. Did Atlas Harland, my hardened Tronovian captor and certified pain in my ass, just pay me a compliment? And actually mean it?
"Well, you certainly aren't blind," Zuri fusses, retying the beige apron around her waist, "so, that must make you stupid."
"Zuri," Atlas says in warning, but she ignores him.
"Why haven't you made her yours? You can't do better than her."
Atlas' cool demeanor settles back into his features, his eyes shift in catlike boredom from me to Zuri. "Had I known I was going to be insulted, I would have taken my business elsewhere."
At that, the troll cackles, throwing her head back in reckless abandon. "Oh, is that so?" she purrs. "Well, Atlas Harland, if my quality goods and stimulating conversation are of no interest, you can take your sorry ass across the plaza for that cheap shit Drusella sells."
Atlas rolls his eyes. "Would it kill you to be polite to paying customers?" He tugs a bag of coins out of his pocket and flings it at Zuri who catches it one-handed.
"It just might," she grins. She doesn't bother to examine the pouch's contents, motioning him to follow her. "Write out a list. I'll see to it that my girl delivers your items to your hotel in a few hours. Are you staying at the usual place?"
Usual place? How often is Atlas in Bava?
He bobs his head and picks up the pen she slides across the large wooden desk and proceeds to make out a detailed list. I try not to spy at what he's scribbling, but I hope he buys me something nice and not stick me in a hideous shade of pink just to get under my skin.
The sense of being watched spurs me to glance up, meeting Atlas' amused side-eye.
"Being nosy, are we?"
"Just curious. Wondering if you're going to be nice to me or not."
He smirks, his attention returns to completing his list for Zuri. "I'm always nice,Strenlys."
I crinkle my nose at the unfamiliar Tronovian word. I don't know what it means, but if it's coming from Atlas, with that ridiculous look plastered on his face, it can't be flattering.
"What doesStrenlysmean?"
A flash of mischief crosses Zuri's face. She knows exactly what it means. If Atlas doesn't fess up, I'll persuade the troll to spill his secret insults.
Atlas sets the pen down on top of the list and passes it off to the shop owner. He rests his elbows on the counter and exchanges a quick, knowing look with Zuri, before he says, "It meansmaiden."
I don't believe him for one second. He won't look me in the eye, and Zuri is fiddling with the beads in her hair, clearly holding back a laugh. My nostrils flare at the blatant lie he's told me. "If you're going to insult me, Atlas, at least have the balls to do so in a language I understand."
That certainly grabs his attention and draws a giggle from the troll. Atlas turns his body, squaring his shoulders with mine. My eyes study his face; his jaw is clenched, and his eyes are molten. I can't tell if he's angry or intrigued by my snide remark. He leans close, so his lips hover above my ear, sending a tingling sensation down my spine.
"And why would you assume I'm insulting you?"
"Because I know you." I take a step back, maintaining a healthy distance from him.
"Ah, but do you really know me?" He tilts his head to the side. "Or are you making more assumptions?"
This man is infuriating; arguing with him will get me nowhere and I desperately want him to buy me new clothes, so I cut my losses and walk away.
While Atlas finishes the transaction with Zuri, I browse the rest of the shop. So many beautiful colors and textures and patterns. I stop dead in my tracks when I see the most beautiful dress I've ever laid eyes on. It's hanging by itself, a spectacle, show-stopping piece for sure. The off-the-shoulder, black gown has a fitted bodice, thigh-high split, and sparkles like the stars in the night sky. It's sexy, mysterious, and dazzling. It's nothing I would typically wear but it's calling my name, and if I wasn't shopping with Atlas, I might have dared to try the tempting piece on, just to see how it feels against my skin.
I never had a say in my wardrobe when I was growing up. My mother and the Midorian designers made those decisions for me.
"This color would suit your skin tone…"