That was what I had with Atlas.
Staring down at me, he threaded his fingers through mine, bringing our joined hands to his lips.
Atlas gave me one last smile before leading me toward the entrance of the apartment building. He pressed a button on the intercom labeledRidgewing/Jennings.
There was a beat of static before a high-pitched whistle sounded from the speaker.
“Who is this absolute cutie standing on my doorstep?” Fallon said.
Assuming he meant me, I looked up at the tiny camera next to the doorframe, giving it a friendly wave. “Hi, Fallon. How are you?”
“Better now,” he chirped. I laughed, imagining he was winking one of his beady bird eyes when he said it. He was over-the-top, corny, and bro-ish, but he was cute in a way. I’d never admit it to Atlas, though.
Speaking of Atlas. “Can you let us in already?” he growled.
“On it,” Fallon said.
A tiny beep sounded, followed by the whir of the automatic lock. Atlas opened the door and ushered us inside.
The interior of the building was just as nice as the outside, modern and industrial, with Edison bulbs and exposed ductwork.A brick wall ran along one side of the foyer, and an old-fashioned metal-frame freight elevator was on the other. It had to be original to the building.
“Maybe we should take the stairs—” I suggested. I wasn’t afraid of elevators, but this wasn’t a normal elevator.
“Come on,” Atlas said, softly tugging me along. “It’s refurbished. It’s safe.”
“You swear?” I asked skeptically.
“I swear. I wouldneverlet anything happen to you,” he whispered. He nuzzled my temple, placing a reassuring kiss there. “Do you want to press the button?” he asked like I was five.
“Yes,” I replied, because of course I wanted to push it.
I hit the P button and a second later the metal door clanked open.
I didn’t even have time to second-guess my life choices before Atlas pulled me inside. With one hand preoccupied with my death grip, he used the other to press the up button.
As the metal doors clinked shut, he pulled me in front of him, wrapping his arms around me tight. “Feel any safer?” he asked, his breath tickling the shell of my ear as he curled himself around me.
“A lot, actually.” I gripped his forearms, grounding myself with his touch. It was like being wrapped in a weighted blanket—a giant, furry weighted blanket.
“Good.” The word rumbled out of his chest and into mine, distracting me from the fact that we were riding an antiquated deathtrap to the top floor of the apartment building. Correction—almost distracting me.
The elevator lurched to a stop, the doors clanking open.
“We made it out alive,” Atlas said, leading me off the elevator.
“This time,” I grumbled.
It was obvious that Cyrus and Fallon had some sort of penthouse, because there was only one door on this floor. Withoutknocking, Atlas walked inside the apartment, and I followed behind him.
Just like Atlas said, the apartment was gorgeous. Bright and modern with an exposed brick wall on one side—just like the foyer. Several paintings hung in the hallway, breathtaking landscapes that transported you right into the scene.
Atlas noticed me staring at them. “Do you like the paintings?” he asked.
“Yes. They’re gorgeous.”
“Cyrus painted those.”
“All of them?” I asked.
