“Figured I shouldn’t say anything, though, because if I did and if you’d come closer, I would have just grabbed you and hauled you into bed with me.My control was at its weakest then.”He rolled back his shoulders.“I’m better now.Got all the sleep I needed.”
She could use about twelve hours more.
His head cocked to the side.“Gonna stay on those stairs a bit longer or can I get you something to eat?”
Her stomach decided to growl hungrily because she truly could not remember the last thing she’d eaten.Had it been a bagel yesterday?“Food, please.”She continued her climb down the stairs.Slow, deliberate steps.
“Such polite manners.”He watched her with a faint grin on his lips, his dimples barely held in check.“Your mother must have taught you well—” Atlas stopped.His eyes closed briefly before reopening.“Fuck.”
She kept walking.Only stopped when she was on eye level with him.
“That was just a damn poor choice of words.A stupid joke.”He shook his head.“I didn’t mean to suggest you were like her.”
No?Plenty of people had certainly made that suggestion over the years.“My mother taught me many things.Never doubt that.Never forget that.”It would be a dire mistake to do so.“What did your father teach you?”
His hand lifted, and he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.His fingers lingered against her cheek.“He taught me how to break delicate things.”A pause.“But I won’t break you.”
“Atlas…” She ached for him.I’m not delicate.
But he stepped back.His hand fell.“I’ve got my personal chef waiting in the kitchen.Tell me whatever you want and it’s yours.Roland is exceptional.”
You.I want you.“Your own personal chef, huh?”
He shrugged.“Are you gonna tell me it’s too much to have a personal chef?Too over the top?Save yourself the effort.I can’t cook for shit.Roland is worth his weight in gold.”
“I was not going to say any of that.”
“No?”
“No.I was going to say…how about some eggs?Scrambled?I can make them myself, though.It’s not a big deal.No need to bother Roland.”
“You realize it’s close to five p.m.”
Yeah, she did.It was actually 4:30.She’d dressed quickly, but it had taken a bit to blow dry her hair.“I like breakfast for dinner.Um, maybe some toast, too, if that’s okay?”Then she shook her head.“It’s your house.I don’t want to be any trouble.Just—I’ll eat whatever you’re eating.”
“I had a steak an hour ago while you slept.That would have been right before I brought in the clothes for you.You looked peaceful, and you weren’t crying out again, so I didn’t wake you.”
Crying out…again?“Did I cry out before?”A careful question.She’d never let a lover stay with her during the night.Mostly because she was afraid that she might say the wrong thing in the middle of a nightmare.
His electric gaze pinned her.“I’m not dead, Lily.But it’s kind of you to worry about me.To have nightmares where you plead for me.”
Crap.She had zero memory of him being in her room.But she did remember begging in one of her nightmares.Begging for him to be alive.To stay with her.
He turned away.Paced back from the staircase.“The authorities will be here soon.”
Yes, right.He’d mentioned them.Lily climbed down the few remaining stairs and paused on the landing.
“They have more questions, and I’m sure that annoying prick ex of yours will be in charge of the interviews with us.But you won’t be talking to any cops or Feds until you’ve eaten.They can wait.Not like I want you fainting from hunger on me.”
Not like she wanted to faint from hunger on him, either.
Before she could say anything else, he headed down a hallway to the right and vanished.Uncertain, she remained near the bottom of the stairs.Was she supposed to follow him?Was he coming right back?He’d probably gone to talk to his chef.She seriously didn’t need a chef for scrambled eggs.She could take care of the eggs and toast in five minutes.Her arms wrapped around her body as she began to stroll through his house.The den waited nearby, so she entered the sprawling room.The stained-glass windows in the den were gorgeous.And marble was everywhere.She paused in front of a gigantic, white marble fireplace.No soft touches, no photos.Stark artwork.All abstract.One piece of art was a white canvas with hard, angry streaks of black and red savaged across its surface.
“What do you see in that one?”Atlas asked.
She’d almost jumped at his voice.He hadn’t made a sound as he returned to her.She breathed slowly, in and out, before querying, “Is this supposed to be an ink blot test?Rorschach?”Where it was really all about the individual and what was inside the person, not what was in the image?
“No test at all.Just me, being curious about you.What do you see, Lily?”
