Chapter 3 - First Meeting

The drive home in his brand-new convertible was a long one for Atlas. Frustrated by the fact that he had killed a valuable holder of information due to his anger, his hands tightened at the wheel as he slowly accelerated. Surprisingly, the streets weren't so busy; Palermo has the most bizarre traffic jams the world has ever seen, so seeing the streets less occupied was a relief. His phone chirped. He always kept his eyes on the road, but seeing as tonight didn't seem so busy, he reached for the phone and checked his messages. "You on your way home?" It read. So, she was still at his place. "On my way," he replied. He knew she didn't care about him and was just with him because of the money, but he didn't care. He was too busy to do relationships anyway, so he had just called her over for sex, but over the week, she seemed to have made herself comfortable at his place. Not that he cared, though. A flash of red caught his eye, and he slammed on the brakes, making the car screech to a halt. The young lady who wasn't looking while watching keeled over and covered her head, frozen and half expecting to be run over. When she realized that she was still alive and not on the way to the hospital, she looked up and their eyes locked. They both froze. It seemed like time had stopped for both of them. He noticed the shopping bag she was with had its contents on the floor. Normally, he'd ignore, reverse, and head home, but for some reason, he didn't want to leave her alone. Getting out of the car, he walked over to her and started helping her pick up the books. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she apologized while bowing repeatedly. "It's fine," he replied and squatted to help her pick up the books. To his surprise, she yelled and grabbed one of the books from his hand and quickly picked up the books, and stuffed them into her bag. "Uhmm okay?" he shrugged. "Did you see them?" she asked, but too faintly to be heard. Strange, her voice made him feel funny inside. "It's erotica, right? One of" she covered his mouth with her hands and shook her head negatively. He raised a brow. Her hands, which were pressed against his lip, were so soft that he didn't even push her away, just the way he would have done to any other girl. He licked her h,aheadd and she jumped back. "Why did you do that?!" she yelled. He tasted his lips and observed her. She was plain-looking; her dark hair was tied in a ponytail; she wore glasses that were a perfect fit for her small face. Her skin was pale but blended with the pinkness of her lips. Honestly speaking, she looked too plain for his liking. Then why? Why couldn't he stop staring? "Mister? Mister?" she snapped her find, breaking the trance that had befallen him. "I'm sorry about that," he got back on his feet, "Watch while you're crossing the road." "Thank you," she muttered and scampered across the road. Honestly, she wasn't his type. When he arrived home, sure as hell, Mia was there. "Tada!!" she exclaimed as she showed him his dinner. "You outdid yourself," he said as he took a seat. The Shitake fried rice with water chestnuts tasted amazing. Mia had it down when it came to cooking. His previous flings weren't so good at cooking; it didn't bother him, though. He could just hire a chef. Then again, aren't all girls supposed to know how to cook? The girl from earlier flashed across his mind. Why? After dinner, he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Why? Why her? She was so plain. He knew he shouldn't bother about it as he might never see her again. "What's wrong?" asked Mia, who had just stepped out of the bathroom and was drying her brunette hair. He looked at her, measuring and comparing her features to the other girl. Mia had a good body; she wasn't as pale as the other girl, but she was naturally blessed with her figure. He got up and walked over to the dresser and brought a pair of glasses, and handed them to her, "Wear this." She shot him a confused look, but still put on the glasses, "Like this?" It wasn't enough, but it'll have to do. "Good, get on the bed," he said as he began to undress. Mia was used to this. He would come back from work meetings and come to her for warmth. She knew he needed the affection. The poor baby still tosses and turns at night because of his nightmares. The moment he grabbed Mia, his phone chirped. It was a message from an acquaintance; one he owed a favor to. 'Is that secretary job still available?'