Chapter 17 – Coincidence

Chapter 17 – Coincidence

Juliet Pierce

I dragged myself through the rest of the night. Noah disappeared into his office and never came out, at least not while I was still there. Samy and Penelope kept asking what happened, but I wasn’t ready to talk. How do you explain that you were stupid enough to fall for a man after one kiss… and that the man is completely out of reach?

I had promised Atlas I’d help with the finances of his mom’s store. We agreed to meet at lunch. I woke up, soaked up every second with my babies, left them with Celeste, and headed to Brookfield Place.

I’d never been there before, so I texted Atlas to meet me at the entrance. The second I arrived, there he was.

“Ju…”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Atlas,” I smiled. “And please, just Atlas from now on.”

“Atlas it is.”

He flashed that easy smile and led me inside. The store was on the second floor. He explained he was keeping it closed because he was selling it. He handed me the files, and within seconds I was lost in numbers, my happy place. I was so focused I didn’t even notice my hair falling over my face, pen between my teeth like always.

Then I felt his fingers.

“How are you even seeing anything with all this hair in your eyes?” Atlas teased softly.

“It’s the effect numbers have on me,” I laughed.

He tucked the strands behind my ear, then brushed the rest over my shoulder.

“Much better.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

“Thank you…” I mumbled, suddenly shy.

His phone rang. He answered without breaking eye contact.

“Reed.” He listened for a few seconds. “I’m taking Ju to lunch once we’re done here.” He hung up with a quick “okay.”

I turned to him. “You really don’t have to—”

One raised brow was enough to make me smile and correct myself.

“Atlas, you don’t have to take me to lunch. I can grab something here and head home.”

“No way. Don’t rob me of the pleasure of eating with a beautiful woman. That doesn’t happen often.”

“Yeah, right,” I snorted before I could stop myself. “With that face? Beautiful women must be lining up.”

Shit. Did I just say that out loud?

“So you think I’m handsome, huh?” His grin was pure mischief.

“Y-yes. Very handsome.”

“Thank you. Though ‘very’ might be pushing it.”

We both laughed, and thank God he took it as a joke.

Fifteen minutes later everything was done: spreadsheets perfect, bills paid, supplier folders organized.

“Ju, Declan wasn’t exaggerating. This is flawless. If I weren’t the one selling, I’d buy the place myself.”

“Now you’re the one exaggerating…”

“I’m dead serious. You made the profit margins crystal clear, highlighted every strength. You just made this store irresistible. Congratulations.”

“Thank you…” I whispered, cheeks burning again.

We packed up. Atlas called the potential buyer to schedule a visit, then guided me to the elevators.

“My car’s in the basement. Come on, I’m feeding you.”

I followed. In the parking garage he stopped in front of a gleaming blue Bugatti that looked like it belonged in a museum.

“Miss Pierce,” he said with an exaggerated gallantry, opening the door.

“How chivalrous, Mr. Wilson.” He winked, closed the door, and circled to the driver’s side.

The restaurant wasn’t far. Conversation flowed easy, light, fun. Today there was no boss vibe; just warmth in his eyes, in his smile, in every word.

We pulled up to a place that screamed money. The kind where you probably pay for the air you breathe.

I looked at the perfectly dressed people walking in, then down at my simple black blouse. Atlas noticed immediately and took my hands.

“Everything okay?”

“Atlas… I’m not dressed for a place like this.” I tugged at my shirt like it could magically turn into couture.

“Ju, you look perfect.”

The valet opened my door and offered his hand. I took it. The second my heels hit the sidewalk, Atlas was at my side.

His palm settled on the small of my back, gentle but unmistakably possessive, guiding me inside.

The hostess lit up the moment she saw him.

“Mr. Wilson, good to see you. Your table is ready.”

“Thank you, Tatiana.”

He pulled out my chair. I sat. He sat across from me. The wine he ordered probably cost more than my monthly rent.

I leaned over the table and whispered, “You didn’t have to order something that expensive.”

He mirrored me, leaning in. “But I wanted to.” We both laughed like conspirators.

Lunch was incredible. The company even better. Atlas teased me about getting tipsy after two glasses of wine. For the first time in years, I forgot everything: the club, the interview, the locker room, Noah.

I was in the middle of telling him, red-faced, about my embarrassment delivering that accessory last night, and he was cracking up at my “innocence,” when a deep, authoritative voice cut through our bubble.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your date.”

My laugh died. My spine went rigid. Words vanished.

Atlas, however, stayed perfectly relaxed.

“Blake. What a coincidence.”