Heartbreak Me by T.L. Smith Page 0,7

It makes his amber eyes appear even darker.

“I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” I tell him.

He looks to his watch and frowns.

I don’t waste any more time as I run inside and start tearing off my clothes and going straight to that dress. It’s already laid out on my couch, so once I am naked, I slide it on over my body. A dress like this, that’s body-hugging and fits perfectly, does not require me to wear a bra, which might show straps, or even underwear, which will show lines. No, this dress requires nothing but a pair of heels. I borrowed a pair from work that are gold, matching the color of half of the dress. Untying my hair, I let it fall and twist half of it into a loose bun, pulling strands around my face to give it a waterfall effect before I switch to a black bag and walk toward the door. When I open it exactly fifteen minutes later, right at six o’clock, he looks up at me in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting me to be ready.

“Will you give me your name now? Or what shall I call you at this event?”

“You aren’t at this event to impress me. I want you to make my guys spend.” He holds open the limousine door, waving a hand impatiently for me to get in. When he slides in, he glowers, and I wonder what on earth has him so angry at me now. I am on time, just like he asked me to be.

“So, you’re like my pimp? You dress me and tell me what guys I should talk to?” I ask while screwing up my face.

As the limousine takes off, his hands come to his lap, and I watch as he screws them up in balls clenched so hard that they are turning red then white.

“It’s best you stay quiet,” he says, looking out the window.

What the hell ever! I huff and reach for my cell and lipstick. It’s the only thing I didn’t have time to apply. Turning on my camera so I can see, I apply it, turning my pale pink lips more of a blush color. Wiping the edges, I put both my cell and lipstick away, and when I do, I feel his gaze hard on me.

He asked me not to speak, so not speaking is what I will be doing.

My cell dings, and I smile at my co-worker’s message. It’s a picture of her eyes wide and a big fat smile on her face, with a caption that reads, ‘Computers are working again.’

Typing back a smiley face, I send her a selfie along with a thumbs up. Hitting send, I turn to see amber eyes trained on me. Remembering he doesn’t want me to speak, I raise an eyebrow at him.

With amused eyes, he studies me before the car comes to a stop and my door is opened for me. A hand is offered, but I don’t take it. For all I know, that hand could have been one of the ones that grabbed me to begin with. Touching my forehead where I know the bruise is located, I shake my head and stand waiting for him to get out.

A voice comes from behind me and says, “Atlas,” and nothing more. My eyebrows pinch together as I turn to look at him while he smooths out the wrinkles in his suit and does up the button on his jacket. With his lips in a thin line, he walks past me, leaving me standing there confused by his single word.

He turns back, noticing I haven’t moved, and offers me his elbow. “The name is Atlas.” His lips turn up in a wry smile. “But you can call me, sir, along with everyone else.”

I walk up to him and look at his offered elbow, then head off straight ahead, not taking it. “Shall we?”

He drops his arm and walks alongside me into the venue, which I know to be a local casino.

“She worked for you, didn’t she?” I ask in a hushed breath.

“She did,” Atlas answers truthfully.

I know because when Lucy got this job, she was excited and told me all about it. I had hopes she was getting on the straight and narrow. I guess I was wrong, and it seems about a lot of things lately.

“Sir, the room is ready, and players are set up.” A security guard stands in front of us.

Atlas looks down at me. “Push your