Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Why can’t he see we would be so much better together?
“Fuck.” He pushes me off and wipes at his lips. His intense, fevered stare is full of hatred. But I know he’s simply confused. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling.
“Lucy, Lucy…” He tsks. “That’s the last time you will ever fucking touch me without my permission. Which, I might add, you will never ever get.”
“Did you fuck her?” I ask, tears now streaming down my face. “Did you sleep with Thea?”
“Yes.”
“Why not me?” I cry. “Why not me?” I reiterate.
“Did you love Benji, Lucy, or was all this a ploy?” Atlas asks. His eyebrows are pinched so tightly together, his anger has become palpable with his fists held tightly by his sides.
But maybe if I kiss him again it will disappear, and he will see what he’s missing. I go to step forward, but he holds me back.
“Yes, kind of… I mean, maybe.”
“He loved you, Lucy. Benji’s first love was you.” He points out our mistakes. It was easy to get Benji to do what I wanted, he was the puppet, and I was the master. The only person I have ever had trouble with, in that department, is Atlas as his puppeteer. But soon I will have him under my control. One day very soon.
“He stole because he knew it would make you mad, and you found me, didn’t you?”
“I can’t deal with your type of crazy anymore, Lucy. From now on call Sydney if you need anything… I’m changing my number.”
“She doesn’t love you, you know. Thea told me she was using you.” His feet stop, he spins around, but he doesn’t look at me as I let the words fly from my mouth, “She said how easy it was to manipulate you. I bet she told you I always stole her boyfriends. What you don’t know was… you were Thea’s way of getting back at me. Taking what I wanted. Thea used you, Atlas, but I never will.”
“I fucking hate you all… all you Fitzgerald women.” He mutters profanities and then walks off.
I smile as I shut the door and go into the living room, throwing my feet up on the coffee table.
Thea may have had him.
But I will own him.
I rub my belly and smile.
I’m sorry, Thea, but this time you will not win. Because I already have his heart, and you aren’t allowed in.
Because he is mine.
Chapter Nine
Theadora
It’s been two weeks, and I have managed to start something I wasn’t sure I could actually do on my own. I’m proud of myself. My website is coming together, and shipments of samples are on their way. Marissa was right, the suppliers took a chance on me the same as I took a chance on them, and they cut back their minimum order amount as long as I covered shipping, which I happily agreed to. I’ve worked a few nights with Tina to make sure I have some money supply, and I stay up all night working out how exactly I want my business to run going forward.
I’m loving how it’s shaping up, and looking to the future, I can see it’s going to do well for me.
Sydney ended up letting Marissa give me the details early, as long as I had a dinner booked, which I did, just not right away. I needed room to breathe first. Taking a break away from Atlas is like coming off a ventilator—you wonder if you can still breathe on your own.
“Gosh, I thought you said you ordered small amounts,” Tina says as she walks through the door, carrying a box of sample clothing.
“I did.”
Her eyes bulge. “So, what does a large order mean?”
“Shipping containers,” I tell her, to which she shakes her head.
“Have you worked out what you want to sell?”
“Everyday fashion with some sass.” I smile.
“I mean… that describes you.” She looks me up and down in my acid-washed jeans and halter top. “Is this close to what you were doing?”
“Yes and no. Chloe’s company prices were high-end. She was greedy, and she didn’t care about the product. I care, and I hope to keep prices at the lower-end,” I say, biting my lip while opening the first box which is full of jeans and sweats. I’ve been living in sweats lately, and the only really good ones that are comfortable for around the house—and good enough if I have to pop out to run an errand—cost a fortune. I plan to change all that. I want something that’s comfortable and isn’t embarrassing to leave the house in. Casual chic I call it.
“You’re on a winner with this, and I know you will keep prices down, you are the most non-greedy person I’ve ever met.” I look up at her as I sit on the floor, pulling out all the samples.