9 Chapter 9: Stains and Secrets
Sabrina’s POV
The sticky liquid seeps into the fabric of my blouse, spreading quick like wildfire. Jane throwing her drink on me in retaliation is not how I had imagined this conversation would go. I was hoping she would apologize for the cruel words she said about me, but instead she took the petty route.
My eyes widen in shock, looking between Jane and the mess on my shirt. Spilling coffee has happened too many times in the past week, which could be a sign for me to steer clear of the liquid. I should become a tea drinker.
Jane has a smirk on her face, “Now we’re both a mess. Clean this up, newbie.”
Everyone in the break room is watching our interaction closely. I can tell they want to say something, but in a situation like this it’s better to stay quiet and let us handle it. Although, I’m not handling anything well because I haven’t said a single word to defend myself.
Jane saunters out of the room with the rest of my colleagues following suit. I’m left standing in a puddle of dark liquid with a ruined outfit, the stench of coffee beans lingering. I’m not sure anyone has had a first day worse than mine.
As I’m attempting to clean myself up, Atlas walks into the room eating a sandwich. He stops in the doorway when he sees the mess all over the floor. When his eyes travel over to me, I can see them turn a dark green. He looks angry.
“What happened in here?” Atlas demands, taking in the sight before him.
“It’s nothing,” I lie, continuing to wipe my shirt with a wet cloth, “I spilt some coffee on the way back to my desk.”
Atlas frowns, eyeing me carefully, “I know you’re a bit clumsy, but this looks like more than just one cup. What really happened?”
I sigh, dropping the cloth on to the bench top, leaning my back against it, “I had a bit of an argument with Jane. She said something about me that wasn’t nice. I spilt coffee on her by accident and in return she threw hers on me because she thought what I did was on purpose.”
Atlas clenches his jaw, his eyes never leaving mine. It looks like he’s having an internal conflict with himself. I’m trying not to question why he’s so mad because I barely know him, but maybe he really hates workplace bullying.
Atlas doesn’t say a word. He moves past me to the coffee machine and begins making himself a cup. I stand awkwardly against the counter, waiting for him to say something. I’m worried Jane will report me to HR, and they won’t listen to my side of the story. I don’t want to get fired.
When the kettle clicks, and the water is poured into the cup, Atlas turns to face me. When he doesn’t say anything, I frown. Is he okay? I can’t tell what’s going on behind those eyes.
Without saying anything, Atlas pours the coffee down the front of himself. I gasp in shock, covering my mouth with my hand. Is he insane?
“What’s wrong with you?” I demand, rushing over to him.
For the first time since walking into the break room, he smiles, “I didn’t want you to feel left out. Now, both are clothes are soaked.”
Atlas’s kind gesture finally clicks in my head. I can’t stop myself from smiling because it’s such a sweet thing to do for me even though we hardly know each other.
“You didn’t have to do that for me,” I try and hide behind my hair, hoping he can’t see me blushing, “But, I really appreciate it.”
Atlas waves me off with a gentle hand, “Don’t worry about it. I would do it again if I had to.”
We stand in silence for a moment, dripping in our soiled clothes. Atlas may be the best boss I’ve ever had. He’s kind and cares about his employees. He’s also the most attractive man I’ve seen in my life, so that’s a huge bonus. Taking this job was the best thing I could’ve done.
“Can I take your clothes to the dry cleaners?” I break the silence, stepping towards him, “It’s the least I can do.”
Atlas smiles, shaking his head softly, “No need. I have plenty of suits to choose from.”
This comment reminds me of our interaction at the coffee shop the other day and I try not to laugh. You know this man has lots of money when he doesn’t care about destroying expensive suits.
Without warning, Atlas begins unbuttoning his shirt. I freeze, my eyes are unable to tear away from his long fingers moving down the buttons at an agonizingly slow pace. He must know I’m watching him because he takes his time pulling the thick fabric away from his toned shoulders.
I could’ve lived my life in ignorant bliss knowing that Atlas has a gorgeous face and wonderful personality. But now, I’ve been blessed with seeing his sculpted body. This man definitely works out if he has an eight pack and toned arms.
What really shocks me the most is seeing his arms covered from shoulder to wrist in beautiful pieces of art. The tattoos inked into his skin are mesmerizing, forcing me to take them in and study what each design is. I can see skulls, animals and even flowers spread across his skin.
This man is truly a work of art – literally.
Atlas clears his throat and I’m forced to tear my eyes away from his body. When I see the flirty smile on his face, I realize he caught me staring for too long. My cheeks instantly heat up and I’m beyond embarrassed.
“I know you would love to stand here all day and look at my body,” He teases, moving towards the door, “But, we have a lot of work to get through.”
I laugh awkwardly and follow him out of the room. When we reach my desk, Atlas turns to face me, “Let me order in dinner for us before you leave tonight as a welcoming celebration for you. My treat.”
I take a seat at my desk, my soaked clothes sticking to my body, “Sure.”
He smiles and closes the door to his office behind him. Through the windows, I watch him change into a new suit and sit behind his desk. When he catches my eye, I turn away quickly, the blush never leaving my cheeks.
The rest of the day goes by in a flash. I answer calls and take messages for Atlas. He came out a few times to talk to me about meetings and what not. I tried to avoid making full eye contact with him because his body is imprinted in my brain and I’m worried he would see right through me if we locked eyes.
It’s the end of the day, but instead of clocking out, I meet Atlas in his office for dinner. He ordered Chinese and a bottle of wine. When I enter, he gestures for me to take a seat on the couch in the corner of the room.
We tuck into dinner and I realize how hungry I am as I’m shoveling fried rice into my mouth.
“So, Sabrina,” Atlas says, taking a bite of his honey chicken, “Are you from New York?”
I shake my head, “I’m actually from a small town just outside of Boston. My parents bought a house here many years ago as an investment, so they moved here with me.”
Atlas nods his head, “Boston is a lovely place. I like to visit there frequently.”
“What about you?” I question.
Atlas stares at his food for a moment, “I’m from California.”
“Ah, sunshine and beaches. You look like the type of guy who would live there with your tan skin and beachy waves,” I tease, noting the soft waves on his head.
Atlas chuckles, eating a mouthful of rice, “Let’s be honest, anyone can look like they’re from somewhere with the right looks, outfit and attitude.”
I nod in agreeance, “You’re completely right. I just didn’t picture you to be the surfing kind of guy.”
Atlas focuses his eyes on me, as if he’s trying to look deep into my soul. My skin shivers under his intense gaze.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
