And I can feel it—that he’s hiding something.
Something big.
When he looks at me again, that lazy charm returns to his face, but his eyes, his eyes are sharper than they were before.
Watching. Measuring.
Like he’s deciding whether to pull me closer—or cut me loose.
And God help me, I think a part of me wants to see which one he’ll choose.
“Dessert?” the waiter asks.
“Trust me?” Atlas asks, eyes sparkling with mischief.
There’s a teasing note in his voice, but underneath it, curiosity. Genuine curiosity.
And damn it, that makes him even more dangerous.
“Why not?” I say, already doubting my decision.
He orders in French. Something chocolate but that’s all I could make out.
“Do you speak French?”
“Sadly, no. I’m actually terrible at languages. I know enough restaurant Spanish and Italian to get by, but that’s mostly because I studied Latin.”
“For law school?” he asks, and God, I wish he really was as interested as he’s pretending to be.
But still, I nod and answer politely.
“Yes. And I went into law because I like structure,” I admit, swirling what’s left of my wine. “Order. Clean lines. Rules that make sense. My family’s world doesn’t have a lot of that.”
“Ah, yes,” he says softly, “the Vipers. Beautiful chaos with a side of blood.”
The words shouldn’t sound like compliments, but they do. I shrug, feigning indifference.
“You’d fit right in, Prince Charming.”
He barks a laugh, then sips his wine before replying.
“Maybe,” he says, eyes fixed on me like he’s cataloguing my every movement. “But I think I’d rather fit next to you.”
My stomach flips. I hide it by reaching for my water glass.
“You really don’t quit, do you?”
He shakes his head, smile wicked.
“Never. Not when I see something I want, Cece.”
It’s the first time he’s called me by my nickname, and I think I like it.
“Is that so?”
“Indeed, that’s so. And make no mistake, I’m looking at what I want, right now.”
We lapse into silence for a beat too long. The tension stretches taut and shimmering until I have to break it before it breaks me.
