Chapter223 – Take off your clothes
The woman flinched under her sharp gaze, but pressed on stubbornly. “Mr. Xerxes is from Emperor’s Heaven. You dragged him to a place like this, and now you won’t even let him have coffee? That’s not acceptable. If he doesn’t get it, we won’t film.”
Clarissa’s lips curved into a sneer, but before she could fire back, Atticus slipped a hand around her wrist and pulled her gently aside.
“Atticus?” she asked, startled.
He smiled at her. “I’ll go.”
Her eyes widened. With his temperament, he was the last man to cave to this kind of arrogance.
“They’re right. I’m the only one not tied up with work,” he said with easy calm. “I’ll buy it.”
He turned to leave, but Clarissa instinctively caught his arm. “Then I’ll come with you.”
Atticus’s smile deepened. “Okay.”
The nearest market was over ten kilometers away, so he borrowed a battered mountain bike with only a windshield in the front. Clarissa perched beside him, frowning slightly before speaking.
“Atticus, why did you agree to something so unreasonable? Xerxes is clearly targeting you.”
Atticus’s lips curved. “Targeting me? Why would he do that?”
“Because you’re prettier, more talented, more popular…” Clarissa blurted without thinking. Then she met his eyes, saw the teasing gleam in them, and her heart gave a little jolt.
He reached for her delicate hand, threading his fingers through hers. “But don’t you think it’s more likely he’s jealous that I have a girlfriend as beautiful as you?”
“Atticus!” Her cheeks burned. “Stop joking.”
“I’m not.” His voice dropped lower, and in one smooth motion he pulled her onto his lap. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, “Truth is, it’s a pain buying things here. I figured I’d use the excuse to stock up in case you needed something.”
Realization dawned, softening her irritation—but she still frowned. “That doesn’t mean you should give in. A man like him will only get more arrogant if you do.”
Atticus pressed a kiss against her cheek, the corner of his mouth curving. “Don’t worry. I’ll never be at a disadvantage. He can’t touch me.”
Before Clarissa could respond, she noticed a few people walking by, eyes shamelessly glued to them. Heat rushed to her face as she realized just how intimate their position was. She shoved at his chest and scrambled back onto the seat beside him.
“Let’s go!”
Atticus sighed, regret heavy in his voice. “You know, I can drive one-handed.”
“Nonsense!” Clarissa glared at him. “That’s dangerous.”
Chuckling, he dropped the teasing and started the engine, guiding the bike down the narrow mountain road.
The car couldn’t go any faster, and it took Atticus half an hour to finally reach the market.
Clarissa hadn’t seen a bazaar this bustling in a long time, and though it was fascinating, the press of people left her a little impatient.
Atticus reached for her hand. “It’s crowded. Stay close, don’t wander off.”
Clarissa arched a brow, amused. “I’m not a child. Don’t forget, I’m older than you.”
Instead of letting go, Atticus slid an arm around her waist and tugged her into his side. His voice dropped low, playful yet firm. “Clarissa… you really do need to listen to me here.”
He clasped her hand and guided her forward, cutting easily through the crowd.
Within moments, they arrived at a shop selling coffee beans. Atticus didn’t slow down.
“Atticus?” Clarissa asked.
He flashed her a grin. “Since we’re already here, why not have some fun? With that temper of his, even if I brought coffee, Xerxes would find another excuse to give me trouble. Let him stew. We’ll enjoy ourselves. Tell the crew to rest up—leave him and his agent to sweat it out.”
Clarissa couldn’t help laughing. “You haven’t changed at all.”
Her earlier worries dissolved like mist.
The two of them wandered leisurely through the market, weaving past stalls overflowing with exotic goods—strange delicacies, bold fabrics, glittering jewelry.
Clarissa’s gaze lingered at a silver jewelry stall, where ornate bangles and earrings caught the light. Atticus tilted his head. “You like these?”
She nodded absently, entranced.
The jewelry shimmered with local flair, vibrant and colorful, so different from her usual style.
Without warning, Atticus caught her hand again.
“Atticus?” Clarissa blinked, startled.
“Come with me.” His tone left no room for refusal. He led her down a narrow alley until they stopped before a shop that looked older and more refined than the rest.
He pushed the door open without hesitation. “Those trinkets are for tourists. My Clarissa deserves the best.”
The door swung wide, and a sharp voice snapped from inside: “Didn’t I say I’m closed today? Who dares barge in here? Looking for death?”
A woman in her twenties strode out. She wore a deep blue corset and a long skirt slit to the thigh. Jewelry clinked with every movement—neck, ears, brows, wrists, even her ankles gleamed with silver and gemstones. Her entrance was all heat and fury.
But the instant her eyes landed on Atticus, the fire vanished. Her face lit up like a festival, and she practically leapt across the room.
“Atticus! It’s you! I’ve missed you so much…”
She lunged for him, arms outstretched, but Atticus sidestepped smoothly, leaving her grasping at air.
“Ysolde,” he said evenly, “I told you. I’m taken now. No other woman gets to touch me.”
“Oh, stingy.” She pouted, her crimson lips pursed in playful disappointment. “I can’t even hug you? It’s been ages.”
Only then did her gaze shift, landing on Clarissa. The sight of the woman beside Atticus made her falter, eyes narrowing as she took in Clarissa’s poise and beauty.
“You…”
Atticus slid his fingers through Clarissa’s, lacing their hands together. His smile was possessive. “Let me introduce you. My girlfriend—and my fiancée. Clarissa.”
Clarissa offered a polite smile. “Hello.”
For a long moment Ysolde simply stared, her expression unreadable. Then she blinked, forced a bright smile, and gestured them deeper inside. “Come, sit. I’ll make tea.”
She spun away, her jewelry chiming with each step, leaving Clarissa with the faintest prickle of unease.
Atticus guided Clarissa to the sofa, pulling her close before sitting down himself. Clarissa glanced up at him, her voice low. “Atticus, she—”
He didn’t dodge her suspicion, only spoke with calm patience. “I met her two years ago. She used to follow my master around these parts. She runs this shop—and she’s the one behind the most exquisite jade in the region. Finest materials, every piece handmade.”
His Clarissa, of course, deserved nothing less.
“Talking about me?”
Ysolde’s voice floated toward them as she glided in, hips swaying, a porcelain teapot balanced in her hands. She leaned forward, the neckline of her corset dipping dangerously low as she poured tea into a delicate cup. With a faint smile, she presented it to Clarissa with both hands.
“Please.”
Clarissa accepted it quickly, murmuring thanks.
Ysolde’s lips curved, and she settled into the seat across from them. Atticus raised a brow. “And mine?”
Ysolde gave a sharp little snort. “Pour your own. You’ve already got a fiancée.”
Atticus chuckled and poured himself a cup without protest.
Seeing him drink, Clarissa lowered her head and took a sip as well. The tea was light and fragrant, laced with flowers—delicate and intoxicating. Before she realized it, her cup was empty.
Atticus refilled it immediately, his voice gentle. “Ysolde’s teas are the best. If you like it, have more.”
Ysolde flicked her gaze toward him. “You, boy—it’s been forever. And now you bring your lover here to eat and drink for free. You’re shameless.”
Atticus only smiled. “Clarissa, you’ll love the clothes and jewelry here. Have a few pieces made. I’ll transfer the money later.”
Ysolde’s eyes sharpened as she turned back to Clarissa. “Come over here. I’ll take your measurements.”
She rose smoothly and disappeared behind a curtain. Clarissa hesitated, looking back at Atticus. He stroked her long, silky hair, his touch reassuring.
“Go on. Don’t worry.”
Still, Clarissa lingered, her eyes questioning him.
Atticus gave a soft sigh. “I swear, I’ve never betrayed you. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you later. Alright?”
Reluctantly, Clarissa rose and followed Ysolde.
Behind the curtain, Ysolde’s smile widened. “Take off your clothes.”
Clarissa stiffened. “My clothes?”
“We’re both women. Don’t be shy. I just need accurate measurements. You can keep your underwear on.”
Clarissa hesitated, scanning the small room, then slowly slipped out of her dress. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in lace and silk.
“Arms up,” Ysolde instructed, stepping close with a measuring tape. Her eyes lingered deliberately. She let out a low laugh. “So shy? Don’t tell me you two haven’t slept together yet.”
Clarissa pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.
Ysolde leaned in anyway, wrapping the tape across her chest, her voice a teasing murmur. “Mmm. You looked so slim at first glance, but—oh, you’re full where it matters. Any man would lose his mind. How is he in bed? He must drive you wild.”
Clarissa’s cheeks burned. Her patience snapped. “Miss Ysolde—”
“Just Ysolde,” she interrupted breezily, circling behind Clarissa to measure her waist. Her fingers brushed lightly across bare skin. “These collarbones, these hollows at your waist… This body is designed to ruin men. Atticus must be obsessed with you. At his age, with all that fire? He probably can’t keep his hands off you.”
Clarissa’s blush deepened. Words failed her.
Ysolde laughed again, openly delighted at her embarrassment. “Relax. That’s just how things are here. You’ll get used to it.”
Her tone softened, almost nostalgic. “He saved my life once, you know. I was in trouble, bad trouble. Without him, I’d be fertilizer somewhere. He was only sixteen then. Sixteen.” She smiled faintly, eyes distant. “I told him I’d wait until he grew up. But he said his heart already belonged to someone else. I thought he was teasing. Turns out he wasn’t.”
She straightened, jotting down her final notes. “Measurements done. Put your dress back on.”
As Clarissa slipped her clothes back over her shoulders, Ysolde’s eyes glimmered. “Sit tight. I’ll bring some designs for you to choose from.”
She swept out, leaving the faint chime of her jewelry hanging in the air.
Atticus lounged on the sofa, sipping from his cup.
No matter what he did, the man was always easy on the eyes.
Ysolde’s chest gave the faintest flutter, but she smothered it quickly. She stepped forward with a sly smile. “You’ve found yourself quite the woman.”
“My woman,” Atticus said smoothly, setting his cup aside, “is the best.”
Ysolde’s fingers brushed her red lips, her eyes glinting. “She doesn’t seem to know your… situation. Should I tell her I still run the underground casino here?”
Atticus gave a low laugh. “You’ve always been clever. I like that about you.”
“But you—” Ysolde’s gaze sharpened, her voice almost playful as she let her lips tremble. “You’re cruel. Practical. You broke my heart.”
Atticus only smiled, silent and unmoved.
When she realized he wasn’t biting, Ysolde threw her hands up. “Forget it. I’m not lacking for men. If you’re already claimed, I won’t fight for scraps.”
Truth be told, she rather liked Clarissa anyway.