ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

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He's here

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He's here. Storm is in my apartment, sitting on my sofa. He looks around my living room, probably judging every inch of it.

I don't live the fancy-life. I have a broken TV, standing on a pretty old cabinet set. I think my mother owned this one when I was born. That's how old it is. And it sure doesn't look new.

It's not that all my furniture looks old and rotten, or that I live in filth. I'm slowly renovating. I simply couldn't afford to buy whole new sets for my living room and bedroom. Plus buy a new kitchen and bathroom. So I had to use some of my mothers old furniture.

Truthfully, I like my place. It's cozy and feels a lot like home. Back when my life was carefree and good.

But now I'm embarrassed, because the richest man I know is here. I bet he's used to marble flooring and expensive furniture. And now I'm assuming. Doing that one thing I hate the most.

"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Storm?" I find myself asking. Luckily, Storm shakes his head. I'm not even sure I'd have anything but tap water here anyway.

"I think you should start calling me by my first name."

I want to laugh. Maybe also cry. Calling my boss by his first name? That's not going to happen. Ever.

"Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know your first name," I admit. And it's true. I don't think I've ever heard or read his first name before.

He frowns at me in confusion. Breaking his grumpiness for the very first time. Though, he's still just frowning. "You don't know my first name?"

I shake my head and take a seat next to him. My legs would probably give in from nervousness if I continue to stand.

"How? You've been working for me for like six months."

"Five," I correct. "You're not exactly the kind of CEO that talks to his employees. Or shows up anywhere, for that matter."

I think Storm is quite aware of his behaviour, and yet he still seems surprised. "My name is the company. It's all over the building. You're in PR, you write about me all day and you still don't know my first name?"

"Unless your full name is Storm Storm, then no, I don't."

He brings a finger to his lips as he narrows his eyes at me. "My name is Atlas. Atlas Storm."

"How was I supposed to know that, Mr. Storm? You never even introduced yourself to me."

For a moment Storm just stares at me, his eyes boring through my skin right into my soul. Although I should be used to his intense stares by now, I'm not. They're still pretty much intimidating.

"You're supposed to call me Atlas," he says with a sigh.

"I don't feel comfortable doing that," I admit.

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