“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
I grunted at Atlas, not glancing up from my computer screen. We’d just rolled out an update to the app when I noticed a problem: the membership algorithms were glitching, giving free-trial users access to member-only content. Not ideal, and definitely not what we wanted. “I told Beau to iron that out before we went live! We had a thirty-minute discussion about what was required. He assured me it was done!”
I blew out a breath. There was no point getting worked up about junior coders who couldn’t follow simple instructions.
Sometimes it was just easier to do it yourself than try to have the conversation to explain to someone else where they went wrong. If I could visualise the solution, and it was within my power to action it, that was the best course to take.
I set to modify the lines of code that were awry, fingers flying over the keyboard.
“Are you even listening?” Atlas demanded right next to my ear. I jumped. I’d forgotten he was there.
“I wasn’t aware that your cursing meant there was something to listen to.” I finished the line and set the revised code to be pushed outas an immediate auto-update to all devices. “And I just fixed an error in two minutes that could’ve cost us millions.”
“Are you done now?” Atlas shoved his phone into my face. “Because you need to see this clusterfuck of an announcement!”
Taking the phone from him, I scanned the TechRaker article announcing our new silent partner. When I reached the end, I scrolled back to the start, adjusting my glasses and squinting at the text in confusion. “I’m not seeing an issue with this. It’s all factually correct.”
Atlas huffed, raking a hand through his wavy faux-hawk and snatching his phone back from me. “They called me Paul fucking Prideaux the Third!”
“Well, they left out the fucking part … is that the problem?” I joked. “Not enough fucking for you?”
“I told them to write me up as Atlas Prideaux! They’ve made me sound like an absolute twatwaffle!”
“Paul Prideaux the Third is your name, though,” I reminded him. “They likely took the details straight off the media release, which would have taken your legal name from the contract.”
“That’s it!” Atlas exploded, shoving his phone into his pocket and turning to pace the floor of my office. “I’m changing my name by deed poll! I know someone in the Office of Births, Deaths and Marriages who can fast-track it for me. I don’t want to live under his shadow a second longer!”
“The shadow of the father who let you drain your trust fund so we could take a gamble on Tickle …thatshadow?” I wasn’t entirely sure if Atlas realised how preposterous he sounded when he complained about his father.
“That’s exactly it, though, isn’t it?” Atlas groaned, falling onto the lounge that overlooked my floor-to-ceiling view of Barangaroo. “What I’ve done with that pissy amount of money was exponentially grow it by investing in Tickle. I’ve built my own fucking fortune! But all anyone wants to talk about is how it all leads back to Paul Prideaux the Second, mining magnate and general arsehole.”
I pressed my lips tight together—the urge to keep arguing with him on this was strong. I had learned the hard way, many times over, that arguing with Atlas when it came to his father was a recipe for disaster.And a disaster was the last thing I needed today, having just dodged one with the glitching code.
But if I explain to him, just once more, that no one is comparing him to his father, it might get through to him …
A knock on the door saved me from myself. Atlas stood as Liv, my assistant, walked in, my cousin Lucian on her heels. He glowered at Atlas before heading for the window to peer down at Darling Harbour.
“Morning, Liv!” Atlas said. How he managed to make his voice sound so chipper when a second ago he’d been an angry, resentful mess, I had no idea.
Liv nodded politely in his direction before turning to me. “You asked me to let you know when your delivery was being made?”
My lips curled into a grin. “It’s happening now?”
Lucian glanced over at me, pointing out the window. “Right now, Bax.”
Giddy as a child on Christmas morning, I bounced out of my chair and over to the window, scanning the water of Cockle Bay.
“What’s happening?” Atlas asked, standing beside me.
I pointed down at the black and silver yacht sailing majestically into the bay. “That’s happening.”
“No fucking way … you bought a fucking yacht?” Atlas shoved me.
“I did,” I replied. “Atlas, meet my new home.”
He eyed me until I shuffled under the scrutiny, gaze flicking away from his. That was too much intense eye contact for me. I wondered if he was happy for me, or was it something else entirely? It was sometimes hard to tell with Atlas.
It was sometimes hard to tell with most people.
