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But I’m a police officer, right? Which means I have to believe the facts, and the facts are the following…
“He rejected me several times. I think he finds me annoying and wishes for me to disappear.” It physically hurts me to utter these words. They ground me in the present, though, and don’t let me float to the land of unattainable dreams.
A deep voice breaks the silence around us. “Some things in this life cannot be tolerated.”
Our heads swing to the right, and I blink at the tall, old man walking toward us wearing a colorful purple three-piece suit while his wrinkled face frowns at me. His signature green eyes scan me from head to toe, and displeasure fills them. His appearance is stunning for his age and it leaves no doubt that Atlas Price in the flesh has graced us with his presence. “Who are you?” he asks me, stopping several feet away, and I sit up straight. “And who invited you?”
At this point, I’ve been asked this question so many times, it starts to annoy me. “My name is Isla Evans, and your grandson did.”
“My grandson?” He sweeps his gaze over me once again. “Maybe I should write him out of my will. He’s clearly lost his eye for beauty.”
Oh my God.
“Grandpa Atlas—”
His hand stops whatever Jimena wants to say as he drills his stare into me. “Isla Evans, your dress is a slap in the face to me. You’re so far from the word beauty, it’s sad and pathetic, and these two descriptions are almost deadly for women.”
Briseis chokes on her tea while Jimena exclaims in outrage. “Grandpa Atlas, that’s rude and offensive. You need to apologize.” Her tone grows cold, and she crosses her arms while I study the old man. She’s right, he’s rude as hell, but seeing someone so honest is refreshing.
Everyone has been thinking this, but he’s the only one who spoke up, and maybe he has a right to do so. After all, the party of the century is in his honor, and my worthless self is ruining his image.
“No, princess. She offended me first by showing up looking like this to my eighty-fifth birthday. I celebrate beauty, not desperation.” He comes closer and grabs my elbow. “Let’s go.”
“Okay,” I mutter, too stunned and, honestly, maybe that’s what I need. For him to kick me out and to go home, take a warm shower, and forget all this like a bad dream. The Church Killer wanted to see my humiliation, and he got it. He might not even send me anything. Isn’t it better to finally go back to my world?
“Grandpa, what the hell are you doing?” The girls jump up, and Jimena moves to us. She’s ready to tear me away from his grip, but his stare halts her movements. “She’s my friend.”
I gotta give it to the dark four women. At least when chips are down, they are on your side.
“I don’t care if she’s the saint herself, we need to change her dress before she embarrasses me any further.” What? “You’re welcome to join us.” He drags me into the hallway, and we reach some room on the first floor in record time.
He gets us inside, and I gasp at the woman already waiting for me there, sitting by the vanity table with a bed behind her and several chairs around. The small door on the left probably leads to a bathroom. Why even have such a room on the first floor, though? I don’t get the chance to dwell on it much as he orders, “Make her presentable, Michelle. I picked the dress already.” With this, he ushers the girls inside and exits, shutting the door, leaving only the smell of his expensive cologne in his wake.
Michelle pats the chair, and I glance at Jimena who exhales heavily. “He won’t let us out unless you’re presentable.”
“You have to be kidding me,” Briseis says, and her sister-in-law shakes her head before going to the bed and dropping on it, sighing when she slips off her heels and wiggles her toes. “Grandpa Atlas is psychotic.”
“He prefers the word stubborn, although I agree with you.” She rolls onto her side, hugging the pillow, and presses her cheek to it. “You might as well commit to the whole makeover thing.”
Well, at least he has a heart of gold, right?
Octavius
Parking the car with a loud screech by the Prices’ mansion, I get out and throw the keys to the valet guy. “Mr. Reed. Welcome back.”
Nodding at him, I head to the entrance with Florian and Santiago following me, our leather shoes exceptionally loud, thumping against the asphalt in the otherwise silent space.
“I’m not dealing with Remi’s bullshit anymore. Fucking tired of his drama.” His hotheaded nature made us chase his ass and protect his woman twice now, and it hasn’t even been a whole-ass day since he got married. Or met her, for that matter. Fucking insane.
Santiago clicks his tongue. “Ah, amigo. It’s not nice.”
His amused tone only adds to my annoyance. “I don’t feel nice. Control your best friend. Our lives don’t revolve around him.”
Florian puts a cigarette in his mouth as we start climbing the stairs. “Ignore him. He’s angry he had to leave Isla alone with the wolves tonight.” A beat passes. “The internet connection was shit there, so he couldn’t spy on her.”
“Who’s Isla?”
“The woman from the club?”
