Chapter 3

[Cordelia]

I cannot remember most of the drive, but by some miracle, I made it home.

April, the family maid, scrunches up her face when I approach. At first, I think she is going to deny me entrance due to my wet, muddy clothing, but then I remember that I live here too and she can’t keep me out in the cold. 

“Good Evening, April,” I greet her as I gently push past her. Not wanting to bring her body into contact with mine, she moves aside, letting me enter. 

“Young Miss,” she has never, in 5 years of marriage, ever used my proper name or title as wife of the oldest son and mistress of the house. “Please change before entering the rest of the house.”

I know she would rather all of me stay outside. She has never been kind to me, knowing that I am not wanted by Atlas, or anyone else. Why should she be kind to a person out of favor that doesn’t even sign her paychecks?

To appease her sensibilities, I take off my shoes and hoodie and let them fall to the floor in a heap near the door. She doesn’t seem satisfied. I can’t muster up enough energy to care. I’m in no mood after my conflict with Atlas. 

After changing out of my clothing and taking a very hot shower, I put on one of the pretty nighties I had purchased for Atlas to admire. He never saw it and he probably never will. He’s never been interested in me that way, no matter how hard I’ve tried. 

I pull out one of his grandfather’s old jazz records and pour myself a generous glass of wine making this my meal of the evening as I dance to the music, swaying my hips to the sultry saxophone.

I am more than a little tipsy when I hear loud footsteps behind me. 

Turning, I see Atlas standing there, his face beet red. 

I wasn’t expecting to see him tonight. I just assumed he’d be spending the night with his secretary. 

“What on earth are you doing!” he shouts, clenching his fists.

“Having a good time,” I answer cheekily. “Why don’t you join me, there’s plenty of wine.” I hold up my glass, now more than halfway empty, and give him a little salute before taking another drink. 

“Do you know how much damage you have caused? Sydney was so distraught I had to send her home. I had to finish our brief all by myself and because I didn’t have a second set of eyes…”

Walking over to the record player, I turn up the volume, turning his words into little more than “blah blah blah…” And begin dancing in earnest, as if nobody else is in the room. My heart is breaking even more now that he is here with me. Can’t he see how much he is hurting me?

Pretending like my heart isn’t in tatters, I put a big smile on my face and dance back over to the table, placing my empty glass down so that I can pick up the bottle instead. 

“Are you out of your mind?!” Atlas rushes over and pulls the wine bottle from my hands. 

“Hey, give that back!” I try to grab it but he holds it out of reach. “That’s my dinner!”

“Don’t you remember,” he looks at me a bit sadly. “You said I can have some.”

He then takes the bottle to his lips and chugs the rest of it down. 

“HEY!” I yell at him, upset not only about the wine but about everything. “You are such a cold, stingy old bastard.”

“I’m cold!” he wipes his lips on the back of his hand. “Interesting coming from you, a little girl with a heart of ice who doesn’t feel a bit of remorse for everything she has done. You don’t care about anyone.”

“I care!” I shout, stabbing him with my finger. “I care too much, but you are too blind to see!” I scream. “I know I’m not Angelica and I really wish I could be for you, but I don’t look like her or act like her. I’m nothing like her!”

“Cordelia, I…”

“It’s okay, I’m such a failure. My parents hate me anyway. Did you know that they want me to give you an heir? Ha! I must be ugly because you would rather sleep around with women who look like a weak copy of my sister than have anything to do with me. You make me miserable, Atlas Steele, I hate you…”

“Well, I hate you too,” Altas suddenly closes the distance, pulling my face towards him. His movements are a bit unsteady, his eyes a bit unfocused, but he is holding me steady by the waist as he walks me backward towards the table. 

“Are you alr..?” Before I finish the sentence, he shuts me up with his lips and lifts me onto the table.

“There,” he says triumphantly, the effort of him lifting me making him fall forward on unsteady feet. His smile is loose and happy in a way I have never seen from him. “Now you cannot get into any more trouble.” 

“You are suuuuuch a jerk,” my words are slurred. “And a killjoy. And a dirty, rotten wine stealer,” giggling I fight the urge to burp. 

“Yeah,” he leans his body over mine. This is not the Atlas that I am used to. That Atlas is always so in control and never wrong. This Atlas is an out-of-control hot, sloppy, mess.

This doesn’t feel like him, but I want him so badly I don’t care. 

His body is pressed against my legs and I open them so that he can stand up against the table.

“Yeah,” I whisper as his face moves even closer to my own, his lips just above mine. 

Our kiss is rough, and hard, and full of need. I have wanted him for so long and this is the first time, other than our wedding ceremony, that he has kissed me. Moaning his name as he pushes me down onto the table I open for him. My heart, my body, everything. 

And that is the last thing I can remember.

***

Opening my eyes, I see that somehow I made it to bed last night. I don’t remember coming upstairs. Oh, that’s right, he carried me right after we…

I sit up straight as an arrow. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Atlas walks right past me, buttoning his cuffs and grabbing his jacket. “Feel free to see your way out.”

Oh my God. I think I slept with my husband!

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Could you explain what is going on?” I place my hand on my head, which feels like it is ready to either explode or fall from my shoulders.

“Don’t play innocent with me, sweetheart,” he says the last word like a curse. “I know that you drugged that wine.”