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Chapter Thirteen

The next morning I came down for breakfast, wearing dark ripped jeans, a bike jacket, and black boots, with my pale black bag on my shoulder.

When I entered the dining room, Atlas looked at me, smiled, and said, “So this is your kind of style?” 

“Yes,” I said as I took a seat at the table.

Then I stared at the smile on his face and asked, “What? You hate it?”

I don't even know why I asked such a question, and why I cared to know what he thinks.

“No, I like it. Your style is as unique as you.” Atlas said, taking a sip of his drink.

Even though I tried so hard not to, I ended up smiling because of his response.

After we got done with breakfast, Atlas and I headed outside, and at that moment, my gaze rested on the mole among Atlas’ bodyguards.

I turned to Atlas and asked, “Can we not take the escort's cars today?”

"Aria, I'm not sure that that's a good idea?” Atlas said with a look of hesitation on his face.

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