What have I gotten myself into?

I know I agreed on Atlas picking out my dress last night. I won't blame the decision on the little intake of alcohol, and I won't blame it on a fogged up sex-brain either. But what the fuck?

"Atlas, that's too much," I kindly let him know, staring at myself in the mirror. "People can see my boobs!"

His eyes drop to my breasts, smirking. "Not really. It's not see-through." But it has quite the cleavage! "You look stunning, sweetheart."

"Well, thank you. But looking alright and being appropriately dressed are two different things!"

"You are appropriately dressed." His arms close around my neck, my back pressing to his front as his chin rests right on my head. "You're just overthinking this, sweetheart."

"So you have no problem letting your wife walk around a bunch of rich men with a cleavage that shows off half my boobs. And a slit up my leg that reaches higher than my patience?"

He chuckles, letting one hand dangle down right over my boob, grazing it lightly. "You do remember what you wore for our wedding, right? This dress is nothing compared to it."

He might have a point. But this dress is red and satin. Red, the most attractive colour there is. And the cleavage—god, the cleavage. It shows off my boobs perfectly, even I could salivate looking at myself. Now imagine what a bunch of rich bachelors would do.

"Besides, sweetheart, you're not going there on your own. If someone says one wrong thing or looks at you the wrong way..." he trails off.

"I'll have to hide all the knives around us, I know." Our eyes meet in the mirror, conveying a message without using words. The message being an exchange of the words "I love you". "What about Allie?"

"What about her?"

Taking a deep breath, I try to see how much I can breathe in before my air gets caught off by the dress. It's tight, but it would be far tighter if my postpartum belly were still big. So at least there's that.

"Are we giving her to your mum or Cody? Or do we have a babysitter?" I pause for a second to take another deeper breath. "I'm sorry, Atlas, we can't go. What happens to Allie? I'm not ready to leave her in anyone else's hands yet. What if she's allergic to something and we don't even know it yet, so we can't tell anyone. And then, she dies. Oh god, or what if—"

"Sweetheart, breathe." He wipes a thumb underneath my eye. Did I start to cry? "The cheeseball is coming with us. She'll be bored to the gods, but then again, she'll be asleep most of the time anyway."

I shake my head. "You can't take a baby to a charity event, Atlas."

"Yes we can. I'm the host. I can do whatever I want." Guess I'll just have to live with that. Even if he wasn't hosting that event, I'm sure Atlas would pay people off to allow a child in—more like a three-month-old baby.

"Where did you get the dress from?" Honestly, I'm not even sure I want to know. I'll end up googling the designer and look up the price, only to get a heart attack.

"I think it's from Reformation." He hugs me a little bit tighter.

I don't think this brand is that expensive. "How did you get my size?"

Atlas smiles, though he presses his lips together in an attempt to hide it. "I know every single size of yours, sweetheart. Shoe size, size of your pants, skirts, dresses, tops, even the size your wear in lingerie."

"But how?"

"I checked for them." His hands slide down my body, sending a shiver through it. "You ready to leave?"

I nod. I'm about to take a step towards the door when he tilts my head back and kisses me. I look into the mirror one last time, my thoughts suddenly betraying me as my eyes land on the bed behind us. "Can I ask you something?"

Atlas chuckles. "We've established that already, sweetheart. Even if I said no, you'd ask."

Right. I would. But this time I really rooted for a no. "How many women have slept in this bed?"

Atlas turns around, looking at the well-made bed. He sighs before turning back to look at me. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want an answer to, Sierra." His tone is unusually harsh. I mean, it's not that unusual for him, but recently it is an unusual tone he speaks in to me.

"I do want an answer." No, I don't think I do. "I am well aware there were women before me. And don't get me wrong, I'm not mad about it. You had a life, I don't have a reason, nor the right to get mad for it. I just want to know."

"I don't know, Sierra. A couple." Sounds like a lot more than I thought.

Guess I need to change the topic before I start to cry for no reason. "What did you do to Ted? You know, that day when he yelled at me in front of your building. He was with you when I came to tell you about my pregnancy, and someone must have beaten him up."

"You already know the answer to that one."

"I do?" I only have an assumption, but I hate assumptions. I'd much rather have an actual confirmed answer. "Did you offer him a job after you punched him?"

He sighs, sliding a hand down his face. "I offered him money to stay as far away from you as humanly possible. I think he lives somewhere in Australia now. I can get you his address if you want to visit him or something."

Excuse me? Visit a guy that begged me for sex? No, thank you.

Not being able to watch as Atlas's expression fills with frustration, I smile at him and extend my arm, holding my hand out for him to take. He does so immediately, visibly relaxing. I'm not sure what the sudden anxiety on his part was about, but I doubt I should ask right now. I've asked enough questions.

-♡-

"You do notice everyone staring at you, don't you?" I ask, leaning in closer to Altas.

We've been here for an hour, and all I've learned so far is that rich people love to complain, talk about quality of certain utensils, food, wine, chairs et cetera, and they love to stare. Especially at other people, judging them. Perhaps not every rich person out there is like that, but these snobs here are.

"They're only staring because they're witnessing something they never have before."

I lean my head against his shoulder, sighing deeply. "I bet they've seen a baby before." Atlas is currently holding Allie in his arms. She's holding onto his finger for dear life, not planning on letting go any time soon. Whenever Atlas moves his hand, trying to get his finger back, she giggles, apparently finding it very amusing.

"You keep forgetting that I'm Storm here," he says like it should light a lightbulb above my head. Perhaps it does. "Or should be, at least."

He has a point, as he does so very often. These snobs here...they only know the man that has a blank stare, grumpy expression with a stern look; eyebrows fallen into a mad frown; strict; The Atlas Storm. But now that Allie and I are here, Atlas is...different.

He speaks to people the same way he always does. Mean, harsh and cold. But then he looks at me or Alison. He's got eyes filled with admiration, love. He smiles, shows affection; being far from the cold-hearted, feared man. He's the polar opposite to his family than he is to everyone else.

Well, at least the married couple seated at our table doesn't seem to be staring at Atlas. Mrs. Whinebrook seems to be more interested in Alison than my husband. And Mr. Whinebrook, he'd rather play Candy Crush on his phone than socialise. Somehow, that reminds me a lot of Atlas. If he had a choice, he, too, would rather do anything else than socialise.

Technically Atlas is doing something else. He is keeping Allie busy instead of walking around and talking to his guests.

There are two other filled seats at our table; one younger man, I'd guess he's in his mid-thirties. And one my age looking woman. I catch her staring at Atlas every now and then. At this point, I fear Atlas will have to hide the knives from me, not the other way 'round. Truthfully, it's a miracle Atlas didn't get us a private table, just the two of us.

"I like the grumpy you," I let Atlas know, looking up at him. Allie starts to giggle, earning a quiet "aww" coming from Mrs. Whinebrook. I look at her with a smile.

"How old is she?" Mrs. Whinebrook asks, returning my smile.

Atlas grunts, not even attempting to answer the question. It makes me laugh. There was a time in which this man was intimidating me to the gods, but that's long gone. Even when he's all cold and grumpy, I know he'd never do anything to me or try to harm me.

"She's exactly twelve weeks today," I answer, sitting up straight. "Can you believe it, she actually prefers Atlas to me."

Mrs. Whinebrook laughs, shaking her head slightly. "Well, good luck with that one."

I let out a heavy breath. "Thank you, I'll need it. You know how grumpy he gets. I start to think Alison is going to be just like him."

I barely ever talk to our neighbours, simply because I never get to see them, but Mrs. Whinebrook and I happen to meet quite often. Usually at the store or when I sit on the porch and read while Atlas is gone—back when I was pregnant, not now. One time, Mrs. Whinebrook even came over to give me some tips, I really appreciated that.

"No one survives two Storm's."

Atlas does another of his signature grunts, disapproving. Then he lies a sleeping Allie into the stroller next to me, kisses the top of my head before he walks off. I'm guessing to greet some guests or do whatever a host does. Hold a speech or...I don't know.

I watch as he leaves, going to greet a woman that just made an entrance. She has black hair, bold red lips, looks a lot like a movie star. She's pretty, really pretty. Why is she the only one he goes to greet?

"That should be interesting," I hear the guy next to Mr. Whinebrook mutter, staring at my husband.

The woman next to him, Juliet I think was it, has her eyes on me but they quickly rush back over to Atlas and the black-haired woman.

"Do you know her?" I ask Mrs. Whinebrook.

She shrugs. "I've seen her enter and exit your house a couple of times, but other than that, I have no idea."

"Recently?"

Mrs. Whinebrook nods. "I've seen her twice this week already."

"Lisa Schmidt," the to me unknown man says. "Special guest of your husband's." How does he know that? It doesn't matter, I don't know this man, I won't believe a word he tells me. "She's German, has been working for Mr. Storm ever since she moved here. I think she starts off as an intern at his office. Not a clue what she does now."

An intern? Surely Athena would know of her then, right? Might as well try my luck and question my best friend about this woman. Not that I believe a word Sir Unknown says. He's out for drama, I can sense it.

Thank god Athena is on her phone at all times. That means there won't be any waiting time.

Of course. I should have thought of that myself. Perhaps I would, but the thought of Atlas and Cody being best friends since over a decade is still unbelievable to me. I mean, it's been months since I've known of it, but still.

Atlas is still talking to her, making her laugh. She has a hand on his shoulder, being awfully touchy with my husband. At least he brushed her hand off after a short while. A short while is better that never, right?

God, no. This is nothing. They're probably business partners and that's it. Nothing going on. Atlas wouldn't do that to me.

I am just being paranoid.

"??" Is a really good punctuation mark at this point.

Just as Allie starts to cry, I catch Lisa look at me. I bet she saw me staring, which is totally not embarrassing at all. Nope. At least she smiled kindly. That's a good sign, right?

"Oh God," I say under my breath, turning my attention to my daughter. She spit out her pacifier, probably on accident. The second I give it back to her, she's all quiet, looking peaceful and like she didn't keep me awake half the night. Half because the other half was because of my husband.

"She is so adorable," Mrs. Whinebrook says in a high-pitched tone, looking at Allie. "She's got your eyes."

I smile, truly appreciating her telling me this. Elaine, Atlas's mother has told me she looks just like me, but honestly, I can't see it. Do I look like a baby or how can she tell so early?

"I'm so glad to finally see Storm loosen up. He always seemed so lonely in the big house."

I'm only half listening as I stroke the back of my index finger over Allie's cheek, watching as she smiles around the pacifier, trying to reach for my finger. Which is a great distraction from what's going on on the other side of the room.

"The house is way too big," I say. "I think he just—" I shouldn't discuss his finances with random people. Or anyone, for that matter. "The odd thing is, he made use of every single room." More or less. They're all filled, but I bet some of them aren't in use at all.

"I keep telling Earl our house is far too big for the both of us, too. But he says a big house is better than no house at all. Now, we're old, we don't need that much space, but he doesn't want to see that. And now, my daughter is moving back in with us for a little while. Maybe that'll bring some action back into the emptiness."

I've been wondering why they're still keeping it. For all I knew, Mr. and Mrs. Whinebrook we're all by themselves.

"I'm sure it will." My phone chimes, signalling I've received a message. I don't necessarily want to check it out, feeling as though that's rude, but it could be important.

Officially regretting to having checked my messages. The tears are threatening to come out. I have to look up and blink them away, not that it's really working.

Athena sure has put a thought into my head that won't be leaving any time soon. Great.

Atlas finds his way back to our table. He presses a kiss to my lips as he sits, a hand of his lying on my exposed leg. I pull my leg away, not being able to stand any physical contact right now.

"Who was that?" I ask, smiling at Atlas. It's not a genuine smile, one I'd usually give him, but it's all I could offer.

He looks over his shoulder, finding Lisa like he has to take a second look to remember her. "She works for me." Atlas looks at me again, stroking his thumb over my leg that must be covered with goose bumps. "Are you cold?"

I shake my head. I'm not cold, but my blood is running cold anyway.

Why would he lie to me? Atlas has never lied, or I hope he hasn't. He always seemed genuine with his answers, honest. But that's a lie, isn't it? Athena just confirmed that Lisa does not work for Atlas.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Another head-shake. "I'm just scared for Allie. So many people walk up to us and touch her. I really don't want her catching anything." Although that's not technically a lie, it's definitely not the reason for these goose bumps.

"Do you want to go home?"

I nod. "But you have to stay, Atlas. This is your event. I'm sorry I've ruined it for you."

He takes my hand in his, his eyes narrowing as he looks into my eyes. For a second I think he's seeing right through me, but if he is, he doesn't address it. "Let me drive you home."

"None sense," Mrs. Whinebrook says joyful. "I was just about to leave. My limousine is waiting outside already. We live right across from each other, I'll take dear Sierra and Alison with me." I don't think I've ever been more thankful for Mrs. Whinebrook. She's an angel.

"It's alright, Atlas." I lay a hand on his jawline. "Plus, I've never been in a limousine so that's really exciting."

He lets out a deep breath. "I'd rather I drive you myself."

"I know. But you have to be here."