𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐒

𝐬 𝐞 𝐩 𝐭 𝐮 𝐚 𝐠 𝐢 𝐧 𝐭 𝐚 𝐮 𝐧 𝐮 𝐬

I nodded, watching him walk off, disappearing into a room and I turned to look at Clyde who was smirking at me.

"What, smartass?" I jerked a brow as I walked into the lounge, him following me.

"You're smart," He told me and I furrowed my brows. I mean, I've always known I am.

He sat opposite me, on the same couch.

"Thanks." I knew this was going somewhere.

"Tricking him into believing you're in love? Convincing him to let your boys out so they can come find you," He shook his head with a boyish smirk and I looked at him dumbfounded. "Why do you think we're really in Miami? It's never too safe." He crossed his arms and I clenched my jaw, Clyde's next on my list after Atlas.

"Fuck you, boy band looking motherfucker." I was about to walk off but that was before Clyde grabbed my wrist, pulling me back and forcefully pulling me onto the couch next to him. Way too close if you ask me.

"I can read you like a book, Torres, Atlas may be blinded but not me," Where is this going because if he blackmails me it won't end good. "I suggest you tone it down on the lovey dovey mood because he might catch on, play him a bit longer." What?

"Huh?" I snapped my head to face him, his side profile perfect as he looked straight ahead at the view outside.

"You're moving way too fast, you never get what you want if you rush. Take your time, be patient, execute your plan with perfection." He got up and walked off leaving me completely flabbergasted.

Is he helping me? I don't know why or how that happened but it did. Damn, Clyde.

"Are you asleep?" Atlas stumbled into the room and I can smell the alcohol on him till here.

"You're still like this?" I sighed as I sat up, looking at him as he stared down at the ground, holding himself up as he grabbed onto the door handle.

His hair a wavy mess, his shirt untucked and tie hanging on for dear life.

"S-Sorry," He hiccuped and I rolled my eyes, throwing off the blanket, the cold AC air hitting my body.

I was in a silk night dress considering that's what was packed for me, I feel so exposed; my nipples hard and I can't control that, visible through the silk material as Atlas looked me up and down.

"This isn't okay, Atlas, I thought you were done with alcohol." I spoke as I avoided eye contact with his intense eyes, pulling off his suit jacket and placing it on the hook behind the door.

"Yeah, well — I don't know." He muttered incoherently.

I pulled his tie off, unbuttoning his shirt; the memories from the past filling my mind, remembering how I used to do this for him. He then used to curl up in bed drunk off his ass, holding me like he's afraid I disappear.

"Take your shoes off." I told him and he listened. "And your trousers, I'll grab you some clothes." I walked off for him to undone his belt and trousers himself, walking over to the wardrobe, going inside as I combed through his clothes in his suitcase.

Finding a plain t-shirt and shorts, I walked out, watching his struggle to pull his feet out his trousers that puddled on the floor; his abs well defined, muscles so firm and prominent.

He was never ripped or muscular so it's so weird to see him like this. As much as I hate my mind for this I can't deny the fact how good he looks; standing there with Armani boxers on and nothing else.

"Here." I threw the shorts at him and he surprisingly caught it.

I tried putting his t-shirt on but he didn't let me. "No, stop putting it on me, I don't want it." He whined like a chile, pushing my hand away as he threw his shorts away too.