They were wooden, all hand-carved and stained to be lighter or darker to represent black and white. Atticus watched me as I admired them before moving over and taking the piece from me. I worried I’d broken some unspoken rule at first, but then he spoke, and it felt like he revealed something fundamental about himself.
“Thank you. My grandfather gave them to me. They’re a family heirloom.”
“Wow, that’s pretty amazing. Do you play?”
“I do. What about you, Mrs. Carter?”
“No. It always seems too complex for me.”
“It can be, but I found it to be mostly about planning ahead.”
“Huh. That makes sense.” Standing, I poked around some more on the bookcase, the proximity to him too much. The next thing I found was an antique record player. I opened it up and saw a record. Peering close, I spun, my mouth open as I gaped at him. “You listen to the Beastie Boys?”
He leaned back in the chair, his leg propped on the other as he watched me. At my question, his face transformed into amusement. “Am I not allowed to?”
“No, it’s just, I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the type, that’s all.” Shrugging, I dropped my eyes, embarrassed at my reaction.
“What did you think I listened to, Bellezza?” He purred the question, the forbidden word he’d called me that night, falling off his tongue, and I found myself sucking in a breath. A finger lifted my chin, and I came face to face with Atticus. I hadn’t even known he’d stood. His hypnotic umber eyes seared into me as he stared down.
Licking my lips, I whispered, “Jazz, or something like classical, maybe.”
He chuckled before asking another question. “Can we get to the reason I asked you here, or do you need to look through the rest of my stuff?” he teased. I was surprised to find a slight smile on his lips, and I involuntarily licked mine again. Heat flashed hot in his eyes for a second, but then he dropped my chin, stepping back, and it was gone.
I assented, cheeks flaming at the question, and walked back over to the chair. I grabbed my coffee and downed the rest of it, using it as something to distract me from the fact I’d just made a fool out of myself. Once I was done, I looked up and spotted Atticus sitting behind his desk now, the space adding to the wall I’d felt slam down between us.
“Mrs. Carter, as you stated in the hallway, things have changed since we last were in your office. While I don’t doubt your skills, I do worry that not only is Immy growing attached to you and Jude, but that it’s also not safe. The bombing was a big reminder of what is at stake. I’ve also been informed you were approached again by the man who had tried to take your phone on the train. The one you told me about the night we picked you up at the police station?”
“Oh,” scrunching my nose, I hadn’t thought the conversation would go in this direction. “Yes, that would be correct. He mentioned something about the bombing, but I haven’t seen him since that night. What does that have to do with this meeting or Immy’s treatment?”
Atticus leaned forward on his arms, locking his knuckles together. “Because I believe these experiences are connected to me, and your connection to Immy unintentionally placed you at risk. I’m sorry about that.”
Nodding, I couldn’t answer, wanting him to keep talking. When he didn’t, I opened mine to ask, but he started again, and I stopped myself, shutting my mouth.
“I’d like to propose an alternative.”
“I’m listening.”
“Instead of meeting in your office and paying you, what would you say to meeting with Immy here and I pay you with Sex?”
“What?” I screeched, jumping up, forgetting I still clutched the mug in my hand. It fell to the floor, crashing on the hardwood, and the next second, the door was wrenched open, and Sax barreled in, ready to fight something. He assessed the room for threats, checking Atticus briefly before looking at me. His eyes crawled over my body, taking in every inch of me. When he was happy nothing was wrong, he released a breath, looking between us both, lifting an eyebrow toward me.
“He said he wanted to pay me with sex!” I shouted, my hands aggressively going between the two men. Atticus’ face blanched, and he stood quickly, attempting to calm me. Except when I heard the growl, I realized it wasn’t me he was placating, but the possessive man behind me. Sax froze for a second at Atticus’ gesture, and we stood in a weird triangle, all looking between one another with uncertainty.
“My apologies, Mrs. Carter, but I think you misunderstood me. I said, Sax, not um, sex.”
“Oh.” I deflated, sitting back in my chair until I realized I still didn’t understand, my face flaming. “But how? Do you, like, own him? I’m still confused. I can’t take a person from you.”
Sax moved over and took the position Atticus had at the beginning, leaning against the desk, placing his back to his boss. His long legs reached me, and he kicked my foot, getting my attention.
“No one owns me, Spitfire. But I’ll let you own my dick if it means I get to be deep in you every day.”
Gasping, my face reached critical limits, and I worried it would be permanently red from here on out. I crossed my legs, squirming as I tried to ignore his words and how it now sounded. Atticus rolled his eyes behind the brute, causing me to laugh, the emotions escaping from me. It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen him do, and it made him a little more real. “Sax, you can go back out in the hall. I’m almost finished.”
“I’m good right here, actually.” He crossed his arms, his stare firm on me, with no intention of moving.
I looked between them both, biting my lip in worry. I didn’t want Sax to get in trouble for going against his boss’s orders. “Sax, it’s fine. Just a misunderstanding.”
I remembered the mug, and I looked down at the shards at my feet. I knelt and started to collect them, when hands gripped mine, pulling me to my feet. “Leave it, Spitfire. You don’t want to cut yourself. Let’s hear what Atticus has in store for me.”