Atticus stepped back, motioning for me to enter, and I looked to Sax first, apparently seeking his permission. He dipped his head, the corner of his lips lifting, and he waited for me to step forward into the space. Once I cleared the door, I felt Atticus move to shut it, Sax’s foot stopping it.
“You won’t be needed, Saxon.” I watched the stare-off between them, uncertainty filling my belly at being alone with Atticus.
“I think Spitfire would prefer for me to be present, Atticus.” I didn’t miss their exchange with one another, tension filling the space.
“Last I checked, Saxon, I had the title of boss.”
I watched as Sax’s jaw twitched, not liking this development. If I was honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt either. It was strange seeing them standing off. The last time had been at the fight, but this one seemed even more intense. Perhaps because I was the one involved. My need to be the peacemaker rose, and I found myself intervening despite my better judgment.
“I’ll be okay, Sax.” His crystal-blue eyes broke the stare-off, lifting to meet mine. I nodded, and he watched me for a moment before turning and stalking off. I didn’t think he’d go far. If I knew him, and I felt I was beginning to, he’d want to be close by if I called out. You know, assuming this room wasn’t soundproof and Atticus didn’t plan to off me or something. The thought shocked me, and I berated myself for giving in to my darker fantasies. He had a dark and dangerous vibe about him, but I didn’t need to entertain crazy ideas like he was an assassin kingpin, mob boss or something.
Besides, he was well-mannered, professional, and kept his boundaries way better than I had. If anyone needed to be questioned, it was me, not him. Despite my earlier jokes, I knew he was a respected businessman, and I needed to quit romanticizing the danger. Clearly, I've seen too many shows lately filling my head with nonsense.
“Would you care for any breakfast? Coffee?”
Atticus indicated to a cart that was laden with pastries and a pot of coffee. It looked scrumptious, but between getting ready to work up a sweat and being in his presence, I didn’t think I could stomach the sweet baked goods well. The coffee, on the other hand, might be helpful.
“Coffee would be lovely, thank you.”
I’d slipped back into the role my mother had ingrained in me my whole life. It had been natural, the politeness seeping out of me, and I found myself shivering, not liking how easy it had been. I didn’t want to be that woman. Atticus noticed my reaction and stopped, a wrinkle developing between his eyebrows.
“Are you okay, Loren?”
I didn’t miss the fact he’d dropped the formality, and it made me feel more at ease, the pretentious fakeness dissolving around me.
“Yeah,” I swallowed. “I know you don’t know me, but I’ve been going through sort of a transformation over the past few months, and well, I’d slipped back into the person I didn’t want to be for a second, and it grossed me out, if I’m honest.”
“And who do you want to be?”
His question struck me as odd, and even one I would ask a client. He stared at me, waiting for me to respond, and I found myself giving into his magnetism. Seriously, I needed to have a proper talk with myself. I’d been lamenting how I would have to choose soon, and it was already hard enough with three men I’d become close to. Not to mention, I was angry with him for blocking me from them. And yet, my eyes locked onto his, my body relaxing as I stayed snared in his gaze, waiting for him to tell me what to do.
“I’m still figuring it out, but someone who isn’t afraid, someone who fights for what she wants and knows what she deserves.”
“And what do you deserve, Mrs. Carter?”
He dropped my eyes this time as he finished pouring coffee into a mug, walking over to my chair and handing it to me. I reached out for it, my hand touching his as I wrapped it around the hot beverage. Atticus didn’t let go, though, and I found myself looking up at him in question.
He towered over me, and his dominance shone more as he waited for me to answer the question. Licking my lips, I fought to push the lusty thoughts back and remember what he asked me.
“To be given a choice.”
Atticus didn’t let go right away, watching me as I waited to see if my answer would be satisfactory. When he relented, his fingers grazed mine, and I found goosebumps breaking out across my skin, an electric shock heading straight toward my clit. Swallowing, I pulled the mug close to me, opting to go with black in order to avoid any more of that. Taking a sip, I used the moment to gather myself. I wanted to deny the flash of heat I saw in his eyes at my reaction, but I couldn’t. Not when he looked at me like that. But just as fast as it had come across, it was locked away, the cold mask returning.
Once I had a few sips, my face no longer on the verge of overheating, I glanced up. Atticus was leaning against the desk, his hands in his pockets as he watched me. It was a weird combination of relaxed while still giving off commanding vibes. I sat up straighter at his notice, my thighs rubbing together unconsciously at the heat I felt.
“You surprised me, Mrs. Carter.”
“Oh, how so?”
“You’re nothing like I expected.”
“You know, you’re very good at answering questions without really answering questions. Immy does it too sometimes, but she’s not as skilled as you, yet.”
He smirked, pleased with my assessment. “Ah, well, habit, I’m afraid.”
I watched as he lowered his shoulders, some of his tension fading, and I found myself unable to sit any longer under his scrutiny. Standing, I roamed around the space, taking in the decorations. Walking over to a bookcase, I pursued the titles of the books, but most were business-oriented and meant nothing to me. Noticing an antique chessboard, I sat down, intrigued by the pieces.
“These are gorgeous.”