by Alison Ryan
“You should have listened to your intuition,” he said. “Go on.”
“Well, he somehow got my number. He said he ‘had his ways.’ And after relentless calls I agreed to go out to dinner with him. And he was so charming and polite and asked me so many questions about myself…”
“So he knows you used to be a Titan,” I said. “So to speak, I mean.”
She nodded, “Yes, I mentioned that. He seemed fascinated with it but he never mentioned knowing you. He was just so intent on knowing everything about me and seemed to genuinely care about how I felt about things and what I thought. At least, he did for about a month.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then it got physical?” The thought of him touching her at all made me want to break something.
“That’s the thing,” she blushed. “This is really personal, Atlas. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I should know everything so we can have a plan.”
“Well, we couldn’t get physical,” she slowly said. “He had… issues.”
I wanted to laugh, but of course I didn’t. Spencer Cameron was impotent. It explained so much. It also thrilled me to know she’d never slept with him. I hated to admit that to myself, but it was true.
“Anyway, it was like once I knew that about him, it made him angry. And so he started shoving me around. Threatening to ruin my life and my mom’s career. Then he would apologize and send me exorbitant presents. It just got super weird so I tried to stay busy with my work at the Capitol and volunteer stuff. But he became more paranoid that I was cheating on him and seeing other men. He would somehow sneak into my apartment and when I got home…” Her voice caught. “He would ‘punish’ me.”
My heart thumped in my chest. I would fucking kill him.
“It got so bad that I was missing work. I was scared all the time. He would tell me he always had eyes on me and always would. That as a congressman he had power that I couldn’t fathom. And he also said if I wasn’t going to be with him, I would deeply regret it. He wouldn’t let me humiliate him.” She was crying now. “I can’t talk about this, I’m sorry.”
My inclination was to grab her and hold her but I shook off the temptation. I wasn’t that guy and I didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. She already felt vulnerable and taken advantage of. I wouldn’t contribute to that. My job was to be her oak. To protect her, even from myself.
Eight
PIPER
Spilling my guts about Spencer had taken a lot out of me. It brought back my anxiety and my fear and although Atlas didn’t mean to upset me, I couldn’t help but have a small breakdown.
He must think I’m crazy.
If he did, he didn’t act like it. It was hard to read him, he was so clipped and professional.
“It’s going to be alright, Piper,” Atlas said. “Spencer can’t touch you here. We’ve got bodyguards, a suite that requires passing layers of access to gain entry to and…” he paused. “If any of those things fail, you’ve got me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Looking at him, I believed it. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
He’s lost respect for me, I thought. Because I got wrapped up with someone like Spencer Cameron.
There was an awkward moment where I didn’t know whether to hug him and thank him, or to simply walk away and let him go about his business. His fists were clenched next to his laptop and he was obviously tense.
I decided to let him have some time to himself.
Tears stung my eyes as I slowly backed out of the room but I didn’t want him to see me crying all the time. Atlas made me wish I could be stronger like him.
“I’m going to unpack,” I said, turning. “Let me know if you want me to order you food.”
“Thanks,” he said, not looking at me. I felt dismissed.
I closed his door and retreated to my room. I threw myself on the bed, wrapping my arms around my knees. I hoped the goose-filled pillow covered up the sound of my sobbing.
Once I was feeling more in control of my emotions, I took a long shower, changed into a low cut silk blouse and jean skirt, and placed a call to room service for a club sandwich and sweet potato fries. I was tempted to order up a bottle of wine with it, but thought maybe getting drunk the first night wasn’t a good look for me.
When I went into the living room I noticed Atlas on the couch, his long body stretched out. The television was on, but his eyes were closed.
I sat in the chair across from him, just staring. How did it feel to be this attractive? I always wondered that. Atlas had the body of a Nordic god, the face of a runway model, and a voice with a deep timbre that gave me goosebumps when he said my name. I looked at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss it or to have it kissing me in places no one else had before. His arms were crossed and his forearm muscles bulged out, his biceps as well with veins running down his arms like rivers. He had large hands that I pictured holding onto me as I rode…
“Uh, Piper?”
Kill me, he was awake. And he’d just caught me staring at him as I had a sex daydream about him. I. Wanted. To. Die.
“Yes. Sorry,” I must have been three shades of red. “I was just… Seeing what you were up to.”
He looked at me funny for a moment but, thankfully, smiled, “Just snoozing. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Me either,” I confessed. “I’m sure we’ll both get much better sleep tonight.”
Awkward.
“I ordered a sandwich,” I suddenly said, desperate to fill the silence.
“That’s nice,” he replied, staring at his phone.
“Yep,” I said. Jesus. I was the most boring human being alive. I couldn’t think of a single interesting thing to say.
I stared at the television for a few minutes. He’d put it on the news and suddenly my mother’s face was on the screen, looking earnest and concerned about some murder that had happened in Alexandria. She was the last face I wanted to see right now. My blood pressure was rising with each second.
“Can we switch the channel?” I asked.
Atlas looked up and noticed why I was eager to watch something else.
“Sorry, Piper,” he said and switched it to ESPN. “I wasn’t even paying attention.”
“Its fine,” I said, my heart rate slowing now that she was gone.
“Things not going well with you two?” he asked, his eyes on me. Goosebumps rose on my arms.
“They’re never really well with us,” I said. “But lately, we’ve entered the estrangement phase of our dysfunctional relationship.”
He looked up from his phone, actual concern marking his face.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, genuinely.
I shrugged. It was what it was.
He sat up now, his gaze on me yet again.
“I need to go meet a friend to discuss some business,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I won’t be gone long.”
“You’re leaving me here?” I asked. “By myself?”
Atlas looked at me for a long moment.
“Actually,” he said. “You should come with me. It’ll be good for you to see this.”
“Okay. Can I get my sandwich first?”
He smiled, “Sure. I’m going to check and see if my dad’s people brought over my SUV. I think it’s best if I drive you to this particular meeting place myself.”
Atlas steered his Navigator into a part of D.C. I’d never visited, an area that would have terrified me if I wasn’t in his company.
We pulled up in front of what looked like something out of a magazine article about Afghanistan, a building that looked as if a bomb had been dropped on it. A nondescript door remained intact with a small sign hanging above it that read “Mullins.”
Atlas parked and reached into the backseat for his gym bag. I waited for him to come around and let me out, as I was a little nervous to get out of the SUV without him right next to me. I was jumpy as hell.
We crossed the street and he must have sensed my apprehension regarding the neighborhood, “Relax. You’re safer here even than at the Four Seasons. SWAT won’t even come into this neighborhood. None of Spencer’s people would even make it to this door, let alone through it.”
I had my doubts, even with Superman escorting me.
Atlas opened the door, revealing a narrow flight of stairs heading straight down.
“Ladies first,” Atlas insisted, and I descended into where I could hear a cacophony of male voices. As we reached the bottom, the sound was displaced in my brain by the smell. An aroma of what could well have been distilled testosterone filled the air. We were in a sprawling subterranean gym which seemed completely devoid of ventilation.
Men lifted weights and pounded on heavy bags. Two boxing rings sat in a far corner and a martial arts cage filled the center of the room. Activity was everywhere. Heads turned and the room buzzed, I figured due to the presence of a woman, but I quickly realized the pointing fingers were aimed toward Atlas rather than me. An older man in gray sweats strolled over to greet Atlas with a fist bump and a nod.
“Atlas Titan,” the man said. “It’s been a while. Good to have you back.”
“Thanks. Lester, this is Piper. She needs a stool.”
Lester put two fingers in his mouth and did that whistle that all coaches instinctively seem able to do, and one of the younger men near the boxing ring ambled over to us.
“Elijah, this is Miss Piper. Set her up with a stool and a bottle of water over by the cage. She’s going to watch Atlas work out.” Lester spoke to the fighter he’d summoned over and then turned to Atlas. “Start you off with five? In the cage? Standard rotation?”
Atlas nodded.
“Try not to put anybody in the hospital this time, big fella.” Lester slapped Atlas on the back and I followed Elijah over towards the cage while Atlas and his gym bag disappeared through a door marked as the locker room.
I looked around the room, my nose never quite adjusting to the unmistakably male smell surrounding me. The man introduced to me as Lester had gathered, and was busy instructing, a group of five large and menacing-looking men near the entrance to the cage. A wiry man in a black t-shirt paced inside the octagonal structure.
I shifted on the stool and flicked a piece of lint off my skirt before looking up to the startling sight of a shirtless Atlas Titan entering the cage. As muscular and tough as many of the men in the gym looked, there was something different about Atlas. His body was chiseled from granite, flawless perfection save for an assortment of scars, the nastiest a jagged, ripping piece on the right side of his abdomen.
Atlas was clad only in green shorts and gloves that were smaller than those used for boxing, gloves like I’d seen the few times a UFC fight had been televised at a party during my college days.
I was mesmerized by the physique of Atlas Titan as I watched him bounce on the balls of his feet and shadow box in the corner. The man he’d joined in the cage spoke briefly to him, and Lester sent in one of his fighters - a Hispanic guy with a shaved head, closer to my 5’8 than Atlas’s 6’5, but with muscular bulk that put him near Atlas in terms of weight.
The two men touched gloves and immediately began throwing punches, the resident fighter trying to get in close to Atlas and push him against the side of the cage. Atlas responded by slamming his knee into the shorter man’s midsection before taking hold of his arm and twisting him to the mat, falling atop his prone form. Before I even realized what happened, the referee in black slapped the mat and motioned towards the cage door.
The fallen fighter rolled away as Atlas rose to his feet and a lanky African-American man charged into the cage and began kicking wildly at my protector. Atlas parried the blows as his first opponent left the octagon rubbing his damaged elbow. The second man fared no better, as Atlas caught one of the kicks in the cradle of his arm and drove the man to the mat with a lunging shoulder charge. Once on the ground, Atlas finished him off with a series of punches before the referee intervened.
The second man to face Atlas was replaced instantly by a third, but he was erased by Atlas slamming his body to the mat as if he were weightless, followed by Atlas applying a choke hold.
Watching a sweaty, shirtless Atlas Titan move about the cage like a panther, all fluid muscle, punctuated by explosive aggression, had me fidgeting on my stool. Whatever previous arousal he’d inspired in me paled in comparison to what he had me feeling now. I sipped from the cold bottle of water Elijah had handed me and wiped my brow with it.
The fourth opponent Atlas faced was even bigger than he was. He looked like an NBA player. His reach exceeded Atlas’s long arms, and he teed off, landing punches to both sides of the handsome face of the son of Titan. When Atlas moved in close and the two thickly-muscled bodies collided, it was as if two bull elephants were vying for territory. I noticed that nearly every man in the gym had stopped working out to observe the action for which I had a front-row seat. Amid the din of voices, including Lester shouting orders, Elijah leaned close and spoke into my ear.
“That’s Marshall Appling. He’s from Georgia. They call him the Stone Mountain. He’s gonna be UFC champ one day. Your boyfriend better be careful he don’t get killed in there.”
Before I could offer a protest about my relationship status, Atlas and the mountain of a man in the cage with him crashed to the mat, scrambling for position. Atlas wound up on his back, fending off an avalanche of punches from above.
A trickle of blood flowed from near Atlas’s left eye and it occurred to me that while each of his opponents wore headgear, he wore none. I leaned forward on my stool, wanting to scream for the man to stop beating on Atlas, but just as things looked darkest, he turned the tables.
Suddenly Atlas arched his back and rolled, spinning away from the larger man and back to his feet. The two men came together again, grappling for position before Atlas asserted his dominance.
Two knees to the ribs and a punch to the same spot staggered the larger man, and Atlas moved in for the kill. The takedown was merciless, a slam that knocked all the air from Marshall Appling’s lungs, ending their contest. A fifth man attacked Atlas immediately, but it was no contest. I watched the SEAL, feeling more and more like my SEAL, throw a high kick that ended the fight instantly despite the protective headgear.
Lester bounced into the cage, offering Atlas a bottle of water and a towel to wipe the blood from his brow.
I was close enough to the cage to hear Atlas speak after he removed his mouthpiece. “Thanks, Lester. I’ll be staying in D.C. a while. I’ll come back next week. Make it seven next time, yeah?”
Lester shook his head in disbelief and responded affirmatively. As Atlas left the cage, the audience resumed their workouts.
“He’ll be out in a minute, Miss Piper,” Elijah told me before heading back to what he’d been doing before we arrived.
I’d just watched Atlas conquer five men without a break in between, five men who were apparently accomplished fighters, one a potential UFC champion.
Maybe it wasn’t us who should watch out for Spencer Cameron. If anything, it looked like Spencer should watch out for Atlas Titan.
Nine
ATLAS
I’d brought her with me to show her she had nothing to fear. At least, not with me around.
But it hadn’t been my original reason for visiting Lester Mullins’ gym. After seeing Piper naked in the bath, I couldn’t get my mind off of her. As much as I wanted to, it was impossible, and having a good fight in the ring helped me release the aggression I desperately wanted to release on her body.
When I came out of the locker room I could tell she saw me differently. The look in her eyes was unlike before, but what I had intended as squashing the sexual tension between us seemed to only inflame it.
I recognized the flash in her eyes as desire and I had to swallow hard before speaking.
“So, that was fun,” I smiled. I rarely was lost for words but Piper Kipton had something o
ver me. I couldn’t look at her directly.
“That was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever witnessed,” she said. She touched my arm and my heart raced.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I thought.
I pulled away from her touch, knowing that it probably looked rude to her, but I was intent on staying distant. Getting involved with me would only make her life harder than it already was.
I could tell it hurt her, something that killed me to do, but I had to look at this for what it was and not what I wanted it to be. Even after one day with her I knew we were in trouble.
We drove in silence back to The Four Seasons, not even the sound of the radio to distract us. Finally, she spoke.
“Atlas,” she slowly said. “Do I disgust you?”
Well, that hadn’t been what I expected her to say.
“What?” I asked. “Why would you think that?”
She looked down at her lap, “I just figured you must think I’m a complete idiot falling into this kind of mess. And you don’t strike me as someone that tolerates weakness in people. And I must look pathetic to you.”
I pulled the Navigator over into an empty lot. I threw it into park and stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide how much I should reveal.
“Piper,” I said. “You do the very opposite of disgust me. And I don’t think you’re pathetic. What’s pathetic is a man bullying and threatening a beautiful woman just because he can’t have her. Spencer Cameron is who I’m disgusted with. Not you. But Piper, I can’t let myself get too close to you. It’s not good for either of us. Believe me.” I looked out the window. “So if I come off as aloof, don’t take it personally. I’m just trying to protect you from all things that would do you harm. Even if that’s myself.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected her to say back to me but suddenly she was inches from me, her arms wrapped around my neck.
