Atlas (Billionaire Titans) (3 page)

I
couldn’t help
but think of Atlas as I soaked my worries and fears away, temporarily.

It probably didn’t help that I had selected my “Sexy Music” playlist as I ran my hands up and down my body. The thought of him slowly taking that tie off and unbuttoning his shirt as he watched me writhing naked on a bed, waiting for him, had me incredibly aroused. My hands drifted down to my clit and I closed my eyes, thinking about his body above me, supported by those massive arms, his large cock penetrating me…

I came easily under the water and I almost audibly gasped his name as my iPhone buzzed on the floor next to me. I’d put it under a towel to keep it from getting wet.

My face flushed, I dried my hands before picking it up.

It was him. He was here.

J
ust wanted
you to know I was in the suite in case you heard someone moving around. Didn’t want you to freak out. Doing work in my room.

I
texted back
:

T
hank you
, Atlas. I’m taking a bath, be out in a bit. I won’t bother you, I know you probably have a lot of work to do.

M
y body tensed
up knowing he was so close to me while I lay here naked in the tub. I rolled my eyes.
What is wrong with you?
I thought.
The last thing you need is another complicated relationship in your life. And this is Atlas. He’s probably seen supermodels naked and begging him for sex. He only sees you as a weird, pseudo-sister figure.

Still. Thoughts were harmless, right? I allowed my imagination to drift again along with my hands.

* * *

O
nce I was dressed
I wandered out into the living room to see if Atlas was out of his room yet.

He wasn’t, but his door was open and I could see him at his desk typing away on his laptop.

“Hi,” I said, timidly. “I was thinking of ordering something from room service, want anything?”

He glanced over at me. “Not yet. Actually I needed to ask you a couple questions.”

My stomach dropped a bit. His tone was all business, almost like I was in trouble, and I walked over to him slowly.

“Okay,” I said. “Sure. Ask away.”

“What’s the name of your ex-boyfriend?” Atlas asked. “Dad’s on a flight to Sydney and he must have his phone off or he doesn’t have WiFi so I couldn’t ask him. Sorry to bring it up.”

I looked down at my naked feet. I really needed a pedicure, “His name is Spencer Cameron. He’s a Virginia congressman.”

Atlas’s hands froze above the keyboard.

“Spencer Cameron?” he repeated. “What do you know about him, Piper?”

The question confused me but Atlas was incredibly serious so I knew I should answer anything he requested me to.

“I know he’s a congressman and that he was born in North Carolina,” I said. “He went to the Naval Academy and then trained to be a SEAL…” My voice drifted off, a realization hitting me.

“Did you happen to know him?” I asked. “I forgot you were probably both SEALs at the same time.”

Atlas stood up and was looking out the window of his room.

“Yes,” Atlas said. “And this all just got a lot more complicated.”

S
pencer fucking Cameron
.

I hadn’t heard that name in years, something I was satisfied with, being that the last time we’d been around one another we’d come to blows over his mistreatment of a girl.

And now here he was, back in my life, but the girl he’d mistreated this time was someone closer to me. Just knowing her ex was Spencer made me look at things differently. There was little Piper had to share with me when it came to him.

I knew Spencer Cameron all too well.

We’d been in the same BUD/S class as SEALs in training. Spent Hell Week together, watched our friends DOR (Drop On Request. In other words, quit), ringing the bell one after another that entire week until we were two of a handful remaining who could say they made it.

Our Navy careers had run parallel until they didn’t, and I was asked to do a different kind of work before finally getting out and entering civilian life once again. Spencer got out a couple years after me and entered politics, something appropriate for a slime ball like him.

He’d always hated me, never understood why a rich kid would want the Trident, but I was never one to respond to his bullshit because all SEALs want the Trident for their own reasons. The only thing that matters at the end of the day is that you were made out of something special enough to attain it. Once I made it, people didn’t give a shit that I was a Titan. They just knew I was a SEAL and that I had done all that needed to be done to make it happen. My money had nothing to do with it.

You can’t buy your way into being a SEAL. It’s the great equalizer.

One night after graduating BUD/S, I caught Spencer getting rough with a girl in an alley next to the hotel we were staying at. He’d met her in a club, and when she’d balked at coming up to his room, he got violent. I’d known he was a complete douchebag, but I hadn’t known he was capable of hurting a woman. I’d immediately punched him hard in the face, allowing the poor girl to get away from him but not before we got into a huge fight that had to be broken up by our fellow SEALs.

The thought of him hurting Piper though? I couldn’t handle it.

“How did you meet him?” I asked, trying to keep my cool.

She looked at me, her large eyes filled with tears, “We met at a graduation party my roommate threw for all of us. He was at the hotel at a different event and he saw me across the reception hall and asked for my phone number. I declined at first, he just didn’t seem like my type. And there was something off about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on.”

“You should have listened to your intuition,” he said. “Go on.”

“Well, he somehow got my number. He said he ‘had his ways.’ And after relentless calls I agreed to go out to dinner with him. And he was so charming and polite and asked me so many questions about myself…”

“So he knows you used to be a Titan,” I said. “So to speak, I mean.”

She nodded, “Yes, I mentioned that. He seemed fascinated with it but he never mentioned knowing you. He was just so intent on knowing everything about me and seemed to genuinely care about how I felt about things and what I thought. At least, he did for about a month.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then it got physical?” The thought of him touching her at all made me want to break something.

“That’s the thing,” she blushed. “This is really personal, Atlas. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I should know everything so we can have a plan.”

“Well, we couldn’t get physical,” she slowly said. “He had… issues.”

I wanted to laugh, but of course I didn’t. Spencer Cameron was impotent. It explained so much. It also thrilled me to know she’d never slept with him. I hated to admit that to myself, but it was true.

“Anyway, it was like once I knew that about him, it made him angry. And so he started shoving me around. Threatening to ruin my life and my mom’s career. Then he would apologize and send me exorbitant presents. It just got super weird so I tried to stay busy with my work at the Capitol and volunteer stuff. But he became more paranoid that I was cheating on him and seeing other men. He would somehow sneak into my apartment and when I got home…” Her voice caught. “He would ‘punish’ me.”

My heart thumped in my chest. I would fucking kill him.

“It got so bad that I was missing work. I was scared all the time. He would tell me he always had eyes on me and always would. That as a congressman he had power that I couldn’t fathom. And he also said if I wasn’t going to be with him, I would deeply regret it. He wouldn’t let me humiliate him.” She was crying now. “I can’t talk about this, I’m sorry.”

My inclination was to grab her and hold her but I shook off the temptation. I wasn’t that guy and I didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. She already felt vulnerable and taken advantage of. I wouldn’t contribute to that. My job was to be her oak. To protect her, even from myself.

S
pilling
my guts about Spencer had taken a lot out of me. It brought back my anxiety and my fear and although Atlas didn’t mean to upset me, I couldn’t help but have a small breakdown.

He must think I’m crazy
.

If he did, he didn’t act like it. It was hard to read him, he was so clipped and professional.

“It’s going to be alright, Piper,” Atlas said. “Spencer can’t touch you here. We’ve got bodyguards, a suite that requires passing layers of access to gain entry to and…” he paused. “If any of those things fail, you’ve got me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Looking at him, I believed it. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

He’s lost respect for me,
I thought.
Because I got wrapped up with someone like Spencer Cameron.

There was an awkward moment where I didn’t know whether to hug him and thank him, or to simply walk away and let him go about his business. His fists were clenched next to his laptop and he was obviously tense.

I decided to let him have some time to himself.

Tears stung my eyes as I slowly backed out of the room but I didn’t want him to see me crying all the time. Atlas made me wish I could be stronger like him.

“I’m going to unpack,” I said, turning. “Let me know if you want me to order you food.”

“Thanks,” he said, not looking at me. I felt dismissed.

I closed his door and retreated to my room. I threw myself on the bed, wrapping my arms around my knees. I hoped the goose-filled pillow covered up the sound of my sobbing.

* * *

O
nce I was feeling more
in control of my emotions, I took a long shower, changed into a low cut silk blouse and jean skirt, and placed a call to room service for a club sandwich and sweet potato fries. I was tempted to order up a bottle of wine with it, but thought maybe getting drunk the first night wasn’t a good look for me.

When I went into the living room I noticed Atlas on the couch, his long body stretched out. The television was on, but his eyes were closed.

I sat in the chair across from him, just staring. How did it feel to be this attractive? I always wondered that. Atlas had the body of a Nordic god, the face of a runway model, and a voice with a deep timbre that gave me goosebumps when he said my name. I looked at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss it or to have it kissing me in places no one else had before. His arms were crossed and his forearm muscles bulged out, his biceps as well with veins running down his arms like rivers. He had large hands that I pictured holding onto me as I rode…

“Uh, Piper?”

Kill me, he was awake. And he’d just caught me staring at him as I had a sex daydream about him. I. Wanted. To. Die.

“Yes. Sorry,” I must have been three shades of red. “I was just… Seeing what you were up to.”

He looked at me funny for a moment but, thankfully, smiled, “Just snoozing. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Me either,” I confessed. “I’m sure we’ll both get much better sleep tonight.”

Awkward.

“I ordered a sandwich,” I suddenly said, desperate to fill the silence.

“That’s nice,” he replied, staring at his phone.

“Yep,” I said. Jesus. I was the most boring human being alive. I couldn’t think of a single interesting thing to say.

I stared at the television for a few minutes. He’d put it on the news and suddenly my mother’s face was on the screen, looking earnest and concerned about some murder that had happened in Alexandria. She was the last face I wanted to see right now. My blood pressure was rising with each second.

“Can we switch the channel?” I asked.

Atlas looked up and noticed why I was eager to watch something else.

“Sorry, Piper,” he said and switched it to ESPN. “I wasn’t even paying attention.”

“Its fine,” I said, my heart rate slowing now that she was gone.

“Things not going well with you two?” he asked, his eyes on me. Goosebumps rose on my arms.

“They’re never really
well
with us,” I said. “But lately, we’ve entered the estrangement phase of our dysfunctional relationship.”

He looked up from his phone, actual concern marking his face.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, genuinely.

I shrugged. It was what it was.

He sat up now, his gaze on me yet again.

“I need to go meet a friend to discuss some business,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I won’t be gone long.”

“You’re leaving me here?” I asked. “By myself?”

Atlas looked at me for a long moment.

“Actually,” he said. “You should come with me. It’ll be good for you to see this.”

“Okay. Can I get my sandwich first?”

He smiled, “Sure. I’m going to check and see if my dad’s people brought over my SUV. I think it’s best if I drive you to this particular meeting place myself.”

* * *

A
tlas steered
his Navigator into a part of D.C. I’d never visited, an area that would have terrified me if I wasn’t in his company.

We pulled up in front of what looked like something out of a magazine article about Afghanistan, a building that looked as if a bomb had been dropped on it. A nondescript door remained intact with a small sign hanging above it that read “Mullins.”

Atlas parked and reached into the backseat for his gym bag. I waited for him to come around and let me out, as I was a little nervous to get out of the SUV without him right next to me. I was jumpy as hell.

We crossed the street and he must have sensed my apprehension regarding the neighborhood, “Relax. You’re safer here even than at the Four Seasons. SWAT won’t even come into this neighborhood. None of Spencer’s people would even make it to this door, let alone through it.”

I had my doubts, even with Superman escorting me.

Atlas opened the door, revealing a narrow flight of stairs heading straight down.

“Ladies first,” Atlas insisted, and I descended into where I could hear a cacophony of male voices. As we reached the bottom, the sound was displaced in my brain by the smell. An aroma of what could well have been distilled testosterone filled the air. We were in a sprawling subterranean gym which seemed completely devoid of ventilation.

Men lifted weights and pounded on heavy bags. Two boxing rings sat in a far corner and a martial arts cage filled the center of the room. Activity was everywhere. Heads turned and the room buzzed, I figured due to the presence of a woman, but I quickly realized the pointing fingers were aimed toward Atlas rather than me. An older man in gray sweats strolled over to greet Atlas with a fist bump and a nod.

“Atlas Titan,” the man said. “It’s been a while. Good to have you back.”

“Thanks. Lester, this is Piper. She needs a stool.”

Lester put two fingers in his mouth and did that whistle that all coaches instinctively seem able to do, and one of the younger men near the boxing ring ambled over to us.

“Elijah, this is Miss Piper. Set her up with a stool and a bottle of water over by the cage. She’s going to watch Atlas work out.” Lester spoke to the fighter he’d summoned over and then turned to Atlas. “Start you off with five? In the cage? Standard rotation?”

Atlas nodded.

“Try not to put anybody in the hospital this time, big fella.” Lester slapped Atlas on the back and I followed Elijah over towards the cage while Atlas and his gym bag disappeared through a door marked as the locker room.

I looked around the room, my nose never quite adjusting to the unmistakably male smell surrounding me. The man introduced to me as Lester had gathered, and was busy instructing, a group of five large and menacing-looking men near the entrance to the cage. A wiry man in a black t-shirt paced inside the octagonal structure.

I shifted on the stool and flicked a piece of lint off my skirt before looking up to the startling sight of a shirtless Atlas Titan entering the cage. As muscular and tough as many of the men in the gym looked, there was something different about Atlas. His body was chiseled from granite, flawless perfection save for an assortment of scars, the nastiest a jagged, ripping piece on the right side of his abdomen.

Atlas was clad only in green shorts and gloves that were smaller than those used for boxing, gloves like I’d seen the few times a UFC fight had been televised at a party during my college days.

I was mesmerized by the physique of Atlas Titan as I watched him bounce on the balls of his feet and shadow box in the corner. The man he’d joined in the cage spoke briefly to him, and Lester sent in one of his fighters - a Hispanic guy with a shaved head, closer to my 5’8 than Atlas’s 6’5, but with muscular bulk that put him near Atlas in terms of weight.

The two men touched gloves and immediately began throwing punches, the resident fighter trying to get in close to Atlas and push him against the side of the cage. Atlas responded by slamming his knee into the shorter man’s midsection before taking hold of his arm and twisting him to the mat, falling atop his prone form. Before I even realized what happened, the referee in black slapped the mat and motioned towards the cage door.

The fallen fighter rolled away as Atlas rose to his feet and a lanky African-American man charged into the cage and began kicking wildly at my protector. Atlas parried the blows as his first opponent left the octagon rubbing his damaged elbow. The second man fared no better, as Atlas caught one of the kicks in the cradle of his arm and drove the man to the mat with a lunging shoulder charge. Once on the ground, Atlas finished him off with a series of punches before the referee intervened.

The second man to face Atlas was replaced instantly by a third, but he was erased by Atlas slamming his body to the mat as if he were weightless, followed by Atlas applying a choke hold.

Watching a sweaty, shirtless Atlas Titan move about the cage like a panther, all fluid muscle, punctuated by explosive aggression, had me fidgeting on my stool. Whatever previous arousal he’d inspired in me paled in comparison to what he had me feeling now. I sipped from the cold bottle of water Elijah had handed me and wiped my brow with it.

The fourth opponent Atlas faced was even bigger than he was. He looked like an NBA player. His reach exceeded Atlas’s long arms, and he teed off, landing punches to both sides of the handsome face of the son of Titan. When Atlas moved in close and the two thickly-muscled bodies collided, it was as if two bull elephants were vying for territory. I noticed that nearly every man in the gym had stopped working out to observe the action for which I had a front-row seat. Amid the din of voices, including Lester shouting orders, Elijah leaned close and spoke into my ear.

“That’s Marshall Appling. He’s from Georgia. They call him the Stone Mountain. He’s gonna be UFC champ one day. Your boyfriend better be careful he don’t get killed in there.”

Before I could offer a protest about my relationship status, Atlas and the mountain of a man in the cage with him crashed to the mat, scrambling for position. Atlas wound up on his back, fending off an avalanche of punches from above.

A trickle of blood flowed from near Atlas’s left eye and it occurred to me that while each of his opponents wore headgear, he wore none. I leaned forward on my stool, wanting to scream for the man to stop beating on Atlas, but just as things looked darkest, he turned the tables.

Suddenly Atlas arched his back and rolled, spinning away from the larger man and back to his feet. The two men came together again, grappling for position before Atlas asserted his dominance.

Two knees to the ribs and a punch to the same spot staggered the larger man, and Atlas moved in for the kill. The takedown was merciless, a slam that knocked all the air from Marshall Appling’s lungs, ending their contest. A fifth man attacked Atlas immediately, but it was no contest. I watched the SEAL, feeling more and more like
my
SEAL, throw a high kick that ended the fight instantly despite the protective headgear.

Lester bounced into the cage, offering Atlas a bottle of water and a towel to wipe the blood from his brow.