FALLING IN LOVE WITH THE DEVIL'S SON

ELENA

“What the fuck you doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharp as steel.

Atlas paused a few steps away from where I sat, staring down at me with a blank expression.

I bolted to my feet moments later, enraged. “Are you stalking me now?” I queried, my tone growing harsher. “Is that it?!”

That would explain why he was here, in this graveyard, right? Could he be here because of Braden?

No… how would that happen?

Why did he keep popping up everywhere I went, in my head and all?

The expression on his face shifted to a slightly puzzled look, and I blew out a blast of air in annoyance, pushing my fingers through my hair.

“Look, Atlas,” I started in a pissed tone, glaring at him, “I’ve had enough of you and your bullshit today, trust me. You and every other fucking Grant. So I believe it would be best if you just stayed away from me, huh?”

Without waiting for a response, I tumbled the rest of the wine in my mouth, and crouched down to snatch up the box I’d come with.

“Excuse me,” I bumped into his shoulder as I tried to get past him, and just then, I felt his long fingers wrap around my wrist gently, pulling me to a stop.

“Wait.” It came out a gruff command, stilling me right to the spot, and sending thrills racing through my heart and body.

Just a simple command—no, word.

Wait…was he commanding me?

Did he think he could order me around just because we signed a contract together?

Ha! He’ll be in for some surprise.

But why was a simple touch from him stealing my breath away? Why was it bringing back a flurry of memories of a night I’d rather not think back on? Why did it remind me of the things I felt, maybe a little too deeply than I was willing to admit, at a certain time?

Why was he even touching me in the first place?

I struggled to pull my wrist free, but my efforts were in vain, as he tugged me forward like I was a skinny bag of chips.

“Come here,” he said in a deep, sober tone, pulling me up close, against his chest, and I found not a single bone in my body willing to fight off this man. Nor was any willing to fight off the urge to know what it feels like being in his arms, again.

I needed to take some time to really think about all of this… these reactions, and actions.

They were confusing me. Distracting.

When Atlas was sure I was close enough, he reached up and scraped his thumb gently across my tear-stained cheeks.

I fought back the tears that threatened to spill at the first crack of compassion that was being shown me since Braden left, pressing my lips together.

He even knew all the right things to do…

Right things? Whatever the hell is wrong with you, Elena Carlson?

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” He mumbled quietly, his voice penetrating my thoughts, and I looked up at him, through the tears.

“Of course, I did,” I shot back. “What do you think? He was my husband.”

He looked at me then in a way I couldn’t read, his eyes penetrating the depths of my soul, then he released me from his grasp, taking a few steps back from me.

What was that?

“I can understand your grief, though,” he continued, slowly turning to face Braden’s grave. “Braden was a good man.”

A sad aura hung around him as he stood there with his hands jammed into his pockets, staring down at the gravestone, lost in the dark for a moment.

And it tugged at my heart, strangely. Seeing him like that.

“You know,” he turned to me moments later, “he was the only one amongst the Grants that accepted me, despite the fact I’m an illegitimate son.”

Oh, fuck me.

I’d completely forgotten Atlas and Braden were brothers, and Atlas had every right to be here.

I suddenly felt bad, my fingers curling in my fist. “I’m sorry,” I muttered under my breath, loud enough to be heard. “It kinda slipped my mind that you were brothers.” I let out a heavy sigh, lifting my fingers to my forehead.

“I’m terribly sorry I snapped at you,” I continued. “I’ve just had a rough day, and would like to be left alone.”

“You don’t have to apologize, actually,” he replied, his eyes sparkling, “because you’re not wrong. I was indeed stalking you.”

He paused, watching me with cocked brows as I tried to process through the numerous reasons whirling around in my head, why he would stalk me.

“And what were you thinking, going to Luke’s house,” he asked moments later, “after we signed a deal together? Don’t you think that’d be going against the rules too?”

My remorse for him quickly morphed back to anger, and I lashed out at him without even stopping to think about it.

“You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that, right?” I bit out, glaring up at him, my fingers biting into the box. “Why the hell would you follow me everywhere, and without my consent?!”

“I mean,” he lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug, “you left so abruptly, in the middle of our meeting, and I needed to know that you were not trying to mess things up. Or if I could trust you.”

I let out a derisive scoff, shaking my head, as I glared up maliciously at him.

“So delusional,” I tutted, making sure I wore the disgust I felt on my face. “You’re the one with a ruined family name, Atlas fucking Grant. Not me. So if anyone should do the stalking, that would be me. To know if I can fucking trust you!”

“You can stalk me, you know,” he returned, his gaze turning dark and heavy. “But what you’ll find might leave you traumatized.”

I impulsively took a step back as there was a sudden dark, intense, overwhelming aura around him, trying to rope me in.

Who the hell are you, Atlas Grant?