18 | monaco, reprise

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I didn't realize how anxious I was until I actually landed in Nice

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I didn't realize how anxious I was until I actually landed in Nice. Atlas had a sleek black car pick me up from the airport, and as we coasted along through the streets of Monaco, passing layers of old historic buildings on one side, and the Mediterranean Sea on the other, my heart crackled like it was being filled with static. When we'd crossed into Monte Carlo, I'd crossed the point of no return. Atlas Vaughn had me...and I think he knew it too.

It had been almost a full week since I sprained my ankle (my official diagnosis came when I got back to California and saw my regular doctor), and just when I thought I'd never have to get used to hobbling around on a bum leg ever again, here I was. I thanked the driver as he dropped me off in front of Atlas's building, and I kept my head down as I hurried myself into the lobby as fast as my busted ankle would allow. I didn't want to look up - the thought of knowing people might have been looking at me made me jittery.

I exhaled a tight breath as I took the empty elevator up - the same elevator that sparked mine and Atlas's entire sordid affair. That spark was now a full blown wildfire, and yet here I was, running into the burning building.

When I got to his door at the end of the hallway, I paused, clutching the straps of my duffle until my knuckles ached. I sucked in one last breath and knocked quickly, before I had a chance to second guess everything and just hop on the next flight out of there.

When the door swung open, I could literally hear the air whooshing out of my lungs as Atlas came into view. He looked more casual than I'd ever seen him as he leaned against the doorframe in dark grey sweatpants and a tight black Gucci t-shirt, but all it made me want to do was fling my arms around him and bury myself in his warmth. When he smiled at me as he stepped aside and let me in, the little resolve I had crumbled. I threw myself into his arms and damn near squeezed the life out of him, as if his touch alone could heal all my wounds. Maybe it could.

"Hey hey hey," he whispered softly into my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist. "It's okay. You're okay."

He let me linger, and fuck did I want to linger for an eternity, but my resolve returned.

"I'm sorry," I pulled away sheepishly and let out a sigh. "I'm...I'm a little overwhelmed with everything, I didn't mean to jump you like that, I just..."

Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes and threatened to unravel me right there in his front hallway, but that soft smile of his just stitched me all back up.

"Don't be sorry." He shook his head. "I'm glad you're here. Really, I am."

He dipped his head down just enough to brush his lips against my cheek, and lost myself in his warm, woodsy scent. He pulled away slowly and ran his hand up to my shoulder, casually sliding my duffle bag off.

"I'll take this."

"Oh, look at you being sweet," I managed to throw a coy smirk his way. "Must be something in the water."

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