Chapter225 – Love you so much
Samson glared, snapping, “That sachet’s woven from golden snow silkworm silk. The spices inside cost a fortune. And this snow frog? Priceless tonic. Your scrap metal’s not worth half. But…” His eyes flicked again to Clarissa, and his grin turned filthy.
“Ah, now I get it. You’re not keeping this stuff for yourself—you’re stocking up for the girl. She’s a fine piece, I’ll give you that. Consider this my welcome gift for her. Here—another bag of the good stuff. Strong medicine. You’ll be a goddamn beast in bed, I guarantee—”
Atticus’s hand closed around the bag, but his sneer cut like glass. “Keep it. Only weak men need crutches. I don’t.”
Samson’s face flushed scarlet. “You arrogant little—” He raised a fist, ready to explode.
But Atticus was already gone, sliding into the driver’s seat with the goods in hand. Clarissa glanced back just in time to see Samson cursing, red-faced and furious, as their car peeled off down the street.
The jeep roared down the dusty road, wind whipping past as Clarissa finally broke the silence.
“Atticus… who was that man?”
“Samson,” he replied casually, one hand on the wheel. “A local broker. He buys up rare items, then sells them to whoever’s willing to pay.”
“Even the bandits?”
Atticus’s lips curved in a faint, dangerous smile. “He doesn’t care who it is. He only cares about the goods—not the lives behind them.”
Clarissa fell quiet, her gaze drifting to the bags of valuables piled in the back. After a long pause, she asked softly, “And what about now? What are you going to do with them?”
“Now?” His laugh was low, almost wicked, as he steered the jeep into a crowded residential district. Families spilled into the dusty lanes, children chasing each other barefoot, women carrying buckets of water. Poverty clung to everything like a second skin.
Atticus reached into one of the bags and handed it to her. Then, without warning, he scooped a handful of gold beans and scattered them out the window.
A clatter rang out as the coins hit the dirt—and instantly, people rushed forward, grabbing for them in a frenzy. Clarissa stared in shock, only to hear Atticus laugh as he tossed out another shining handful.
He drove slowly through the streets, scattering treasure in his wake until the bag was empty. When he finally looked at her again, his grin was boyish, unrestrained. “This is the common district. The poorest of the poor live here. Everything those bastards stole came from them anyway. I’m just giving it back.”
“Atticus…” Clarissa whispered, her chest tightening. He looked so unshakably alive, so reckless and dazzling.
Her vision blurred, eyes stinging as her heart hammered. Without thinking, she leaned over, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard on the cheek. “I love you so much.”
He laughed, pulling her against his chest with effortless pride. “Then let’s keep going.”
She giggled, then mimicked him—grabbing a fistful of gold beans and scattering them into the street. She had never imagined herself doing something so wild, so shamelessly free. Yet beside him, she felt as though her steady heart had been set ablaze, each beat crashing like waves.
She was hopelessly, utterly enthralled by him.
By the time they lost the following crowd, the sun had already begun to set. Atticus pulled the jeep into an open stretch of land. The horizon burned in hues of crimson and gold, the desert glowing as though the whole sky were on fire.
“So beautiful…” Clarissa murmured from the passenger seat.
Atticus reached into the cooler and handed her a piece of chilled fruit. “Thirsty?”
She bit into it, juice spilling over her lips. Sweet, cold, perfect. She looked at him curiously. “Where did you even get this?”
“There’s a fridge in the back,” he said, cracking open a cold beer. He tipped his head back, gulping deeply.
Her eyes betrayed her—lingering on the line of his throat, the flex of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she jerked her gaze away, ears burning.
Atticus caught it. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her firmly against him. “Clarissa…”
Her breath hitched. She could only stare at him, wide-eyed and trembling.
That dark, hungry light flickered in his gaze as he stroked her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her blush deepened; the fruit slipped from her hand, forgotten on the dirt. He tossed his beer aside and leaned in, lips capturing hers.
The taste of cold malt mixed with the heat of his mouth. His kiss grew deeper, rougher, until he had her pressed against the side of the car, stealing every last bit of her breath.
Then—her phone rang.
Clarissa’s body jerked. She pressed lightly at his chest. “Wait… there’s a call—”
“Forget it,” Atticus growled against her lips, kissing her harder, hungrier.
Her protests dissolved into ragged gasps as her body softened under his. The phone went silent. His hand was already sliding lower, his arousal pressing hotly between her thighs.
“Atticus…” she whimpered, dazed.
“Clarissa…” His voice was thick, laced with fire. Fingers brushed his belt, ready to undo it—
But then the phone rang again, shrill and insistent.
The sound cut through the haze. Clarissa bit her lip, her hand bracing against his taut abdomen. “Don’t…” she whispered, torn between longing and restraint.
Atticus felt her resistance but refused to let go. Instead, he dipped his head and kissed her again and again, his voice low and coaxing.
“Clarissa…”
Her resolve nearly broke under the heat of his mouth, but the insistent ringing of the phone tugged her back to reality. Breathless, she kissed his cheek softly and whispered, “Can we… continue this at home?”
Atticus’s eyes burned into hers. “Is that a promise?”
She nodded shyly, cheeks flushed.
When she pushed at his chest, urging him away, he gave a reluctant sigh and reached for her bag.
Clarissa hurriedly smoothed her blouse before taking the phone. Oriana’s playful voice burst through the line.
“Miss Clarissa, where on earth have you been? You’ve been gone all day. Xerxes and his assistant have been waiting outside, roasting in the sun. They’re fuming. Haha—you should see their faces!”
Oriana again. Beside her, Atticus’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. Sensing it, Clarissa brushed her hand gently across his cheek, soothing him.
The storm in his eyes cleared, replaced by a dangerous glimmer. He sat back down beside her and, without hesitation, slipped his hand beneath her dress.
Clarissa jolted, eyes widening, silently pleading with him to stop. But Atticus held her firm, his lips trailing down her throat, kissing the curve of her collarbone.
Her breath quickened, the flush in her cheeks burning deeper than the sunset itself.
“Miss Clarissa? Are you still there?” Oriana’s voice chirped in her ear.
Struggling to steady herself, Clarissa bit her lip and managed, “Yes, I’m here. I’ll… I’ll be back soon. Anything else?”
“Later? Ohhh, I get it—you must be out on a date with Atticus. Naughty! Haha. But honestly, it’s perfect. That pompous guy even asked Atticus to buy him coffee. Who does he think he is?”
Clarissa opened her mouth to respond—but instead, a sob escaped her, her eyes misting with tears.
“Miss Clarissa? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“No…” Clarissa gasped, fighting for composure. “I just… I’ll explain later. We’ll talk when I get home.”
Oriana hesitated, her tone suspicious but amused. “Alright, alright—I’ll stop interrupting your… private time.”
With that, she hung up.
Clarissa exhaled shakily—only to feel Atticus’s hot breath on her neck. He nipped lightly at her earlobe.
“Mmm…”
The jolt of sensation made her melt against him, shivering helplessly in his arms. Atticus gazed down at her, smugness glittering in his eyes.
“Atticus… stop…” she whispered, trembling.
He saw the tears sparkling in her eyes, her fragile beauty breaking his control. With a soft chuckle, he finally withdrew his hand and straightened her collar with surprising tenderness.
Relieved, Clarissa tried to steady her breathing. Then, suddenly remembering, she gasped. “Oh! I forgot the coffee.”
If Oriana hadn’t called, she would have completely forgotten. Atticus laughed, his voice teasing. “Pretty sure there’s some in the car. Let’s bring that back instead.”
She gave him a scandalized look. “You—! You really sound like a thief.”
He only grinned, lifting her effortlessly into the passenger seat and fastening her seatbelt. “That reminds me—it’s not a bad trade, is it? Heading out with an old car, coming back with a new one. That tiny thing of yours never suited my style anyway. Don’t you think?”
Clarissa rolled her eyes, ready to call him insufferably vain—before the jeep surged forward again, swallowing her words in the roar of the engine.
By the time Atticus and Clarissa returned to the set, the sky had already gone dark. Only the prop master was still waiting at the gate.
When he saw Atticus pull up in that gleaming, customized jeep, his jaw dropped. “What the hell? Where’s my car?”
Atticus climbed out, opened the passenger door, and lifted Clarissa out before tossing the man a set of keys. “I lost your car. This one’s yours as compensation.”
“Huh?” He blinked, stunned. Then the realization hit, and he let out a squeal. Hugging the hood of the jeep like it was a long-lost lover, he cried, “Oh my god, this thing must be worth millions! Are you seriously giving it to me?”
Atticus’s lips curved faintly. “I’m not the type to bluff.”
“Thank you, thank you! Atticus, you’re my big brother now! Whatever you want, you just say the word!” He was practically kissing the car, too drunk on excitement to notice Atticus taking Clarissa’s hand and walking past him.
Before they could reach the rest area, Xerxes and his assistant stormed toward them.
“Atticus! Clarissa! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You made me wait out there in the sun all damn day. Where the hell have you been?”
Clarissa opened her mouth, but Atticus cut her off smoothly, holding out a cup. “You wanted coffee? Here. Best kopi luwak I could find. Perfect for a star like you.”
Xerxes slapped the cup out of his hand, coffee splattering on the ground. “What’s the point of buying it now? You think a whole day’s wait is worth one damn coffee?”
Clarissa’s chest burned with anger, but before she could speak, Atticus squeezed her hand lightly. His face was the picture of innocence.
“Oh? That’s strange. I ran over twenty kilometers just to find this rare brew, and on the way I had an accident. Traffic was hell. I even told Clarissa to inform the crew to take the day off. Didn’t you hear?” His brows shot up in mock surprise. “No one told you? Ah, I see. Must be because you’re so unpopular. Can’t be helped—superstars are in a different league than us ordinary folks.”
“You—!” Xerxes’s finger shook as he jabbed it at Atticus, but the words caught in his throat.
Clarissa bit down on her lip, struggling not to laugh. Atticus, already bored, brushed past him. “I brought the coffee. If that’s all, Clarissa and I are going to rest.”
Xerxes stood frozen, his whole body trembling with rage, fists cracking at his sides.
Atticus! How dare you humiliate me… I’ll make you pay.