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"Thank you," he ground out.
The problem was that he was right about our connection. I was fighting a losing battle and we both knew it. It wasn’t just the two times I’d slipped and banged his brains out. The first time could be chalked up to surprise and remnants of my nightmares. But the second time… welp, I didn’t really have an excuse.
And to top it off, it didn’t matter how angry I was with him, I wasn’t immune to our connection. My heart was still in tattered shards, and I might not trust him, but everything about his body called to mine. I always thought that twin-flame thing was utter nonsense, but how else could I explain the pull he still had over me?
You’re dickmatized.
Okay. That too.
He was gorgeous. The cream-colored outfit was chef's kiss, and the accessories he'd paired it with, including the glasses and the aqua blue beads he had on his wrist, made his eyes appear more aquamarine than wintergreen. The man looked good enough to eat.
And as he approached, the scent of his Sauvage cologne tickled my nose, the tobacco notes reminding me of my grandfather in my childhood. And the citrus, leather, and sandalwood notes only enticed me to draw nearer to him. It begged me to lean in and take a whiff.
"Are you ready?"
I cleared my throat, and he reached for my hand, taking it easily.
You should pull it back. You should definitely pull it back.
I should. And I would have, except… Fuck me, he felt so good. The zing up my arm and the electrical charge that danced through my body were so palpable I could barely contain myself.
We were both silent, our feet making clop, clop, clop sounds on the marble as he led us to the front door.
Our driver for the night was called Pierre. While tall, he didn’t resemble the hulking behemoths who followed in another car. He was a slim build and by and large looked unassuming.
The man with onyx dark skin and the brightest white smile I had ever seen inclined his head toward me. "Mrs. Price, lovely to meet you."
His voice had a slight accent to it. Maybe French mixed with Patois?
I opened my mouth to correct him that I wasn't, in fact, Mrs. Price, but Atticus just nodded. "Pleasure to meet you."
And when Pierre went to open the door for me, Atticus gave him a curt shake of his head and opened the door instead.
I rolled my eyes at Atticus and gave Pierre a soft smile, sliding into the car just before Atticus closed it behind me. The car smelled of leather and wealth, and God the leather was so soft you could just sink into it.
Pierre met my gaze in the rearview. "Mrs. Price, there's some water back there. If you prefer it fizzy or flat, just tell me, and I'll make sure I'm always stocked with it."
"Thank you so much.”
Atticus wrapped his big hand over mine, and when I tried to tug it away, he held on even tighter. The smile he gave me was tight. "Don't bother."
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore him and the sizzle between us as we drove. Neither one of us spoke until I looked out the window and realized we were in Belgravia. "We're dining at the hotel?"
"No. At the private residence of Bridge Edgerton. He works with Hale and wanted to hear the discussion as well."
When I turned to him with a smile, his gaze was soft, his eyes warm, and he was smiling back at me.
"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"I’m just remembering how seeing you smile makes me feel."
I pursed my lips. "Right."
When he was sweet like this, it was hard to remember that Atticus was a pain in the ass. It was hard to focus on the pain he'd put me through, and the barrier that I plastered on my heart started to crumble in places.
The deeper we drove into Belgravia the more the tourist traffic faded.
Along the main road, the swarms of people were gone, replaced by a calmer vibe over the city, but it was just as dazzling. We passed bars and restaurants that were teeming with people, full and vibrant.
