Chapter231 – Mm—Atticus!
Xerxes had been pulling five million. Mark wasn’t worth nearly that much, yet Clarissa had offered him three million without hesitation. More than he could have dreamed.
“Stop rambling,” Clarissa cut him off, her voice brisk. “Come here, I need to talk.” Then she turned to another man nearby. “Mr. Upton, please join us.”
Upton followed at once. Atticus, of course, tried to trail along too, but Clarissa caught his arm. “Not you. Wait outside.”
Annoyance flickered in his eyes. “Why?”
“Because this is work. You’re not interfering in this.”
God, the man never missed a chance. Even her staff had started falling in line with him lately. If she let him keep at it, soon she’d be the one answering to him. She pushed at his chest. “Go. Find something else to do.”
“But I’ve finished my work for the day.”
“Then…” Clarissa thought for a beat, then gave him a look. “I haven’t had your cooking in forever. Go make me something.”
Atticus locked eyes with her, staring her down as if testing whether she was serious. Under her steady gaze, he exhaled slowly. “…Fine. I’ll do it right away.”
Obedient at last, he left. Clarissa let out a tiny sigh of relief. As much as she adored him, sometimes having a man that clingy was… exhausting.
She shook the thought off and stepped inside.
Upton was already smirking. “All done making out? I half expected you to drag him in here with you.”
Clarissa flushed and sat down quickly. “Don’t tease me.”
“I like him, personally,” Upton continued. “With his looks and charisma, if Atticus ever wanted to join the entertainment industry, he’d be at the top in no time.”
Clarissa laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Atticus would never work within a script. He’s not cut out for this world.”
“So you wouldn’t even consider it?”
“Mr. Upton,” she said firmly, “Atticus has his own path. I want him to stick with medicine. That’s where his future is.”
Upton sighed, disappointed, but nodded. “Then I respect your wishes.”
Clarissa seized the moment to redirect. “Mr. Upton, let me introduce you properly. This is Mark—one of our artists.”
Mark had been quiet, observing, his gaze darting to Clarissa more often than not. At the mention of his name, he inclined his head. “Mr. Upton.”
Upton chuckled, amused. “Miss Clarissa, you’ve got good taste. Earlier, with Xerxes, I thought maybe all your discernment went into your choice of… partners.”
Clarissa’s cheeks heated. “….”
Upton roared with laughter. “You’re too proper. But it’s fine. Your personality balances Atticus’s perfectly.”
Their talk wrapped up smoothly. Upton was satisfied, and the lead role was officially settled.
But as Clarissa prepared to leave, Mark called out. “Miss Clarissa.”
She turned, catching sight of him approaching at an unhurried pace. Tilting her head, she asked lightly, “Something else?”
“No,” Mark said. “I was just wondering… how long are you planning to stay here?”
“Me?” Clarissa thought for a moment. “I’d planned two weeks. But now… probably a little longer.”
“I see…” His gaze darkened fleetingly before he dropped it, muttering under his breath, “And yet… you already have a boyfriend.”
The words were too soft for her to catch. “Mark? What was that?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, straightening. “Just tired from the flight. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course. Rest well.”
She turned—and froze. Atticus was right there, standing behind her, his expression unreadable.
He had appeared without a sound. Clarissa hadn’t heard a single step. Her hand flew to her chest. “Atticus—you… when did you get here?”
“Just now.”
“You walk too quietly. You startled me.”
“I didn’t walk quietly. You were just too focused.”
Too focused on another man. A man who looked at her with thoughts he shouldn’t dare have. A dangerous glint flickered in Atticus’s eyes at the memory.
Clarissa didn’t notice. She only smiled softly. “Fine, then—blame it on me being distracted.”
That smile undid him. Without a word, he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. She blinked in surprise, and before she could protest, his mouth crashed onto hers.
“Mm—Atticus!” She pushed at him, fists beating against his chest. But against his strength, she was helpless. He pinned her against the corridor wall, the kiss turning rougher, deeper.
Her resistance melted by degrees, her body softening into him like silk gone boneless. Atticus’s eyes gleamed with pride. He savored the taste of her, then lifted his head, casting a defiant glance down the hall.
Because not far away, Mark stood in the shadows, under the eaves. The wind ruffled his silver hair, but the easy smile from earlier was gone. His hand clenched so hard his palm split, drops of blood falling silently to the ground like dark blossoms.
.....
Atticus carried Clarissa back to their room. As soon as he set her down, she shoved him away, turning her head to avoid him.
He knew he’d crossed a line. So he lowered himself to one knee, caught her hand in both of his, and said, “I made your favorite dishes. Let me bring them to you, alright?”
Clarissa’s brows drew tight. “Atticus!”
“What?” His voice was mild, but his eyes never wavered.
“What do you mean, ‘what’? Just now—out of control!” Her cheeks burned with a mix of shame and anger.
She pulled her hand back, shaking her head. “You can’t keep doing this.”
Something dark slid through his gaze. “Clarissa, what do you mean by that?”
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to keep calm. “Atticus, we’re adults. Being in love isn’t about clinging to each other every second. We both need freedom, space. Sometimes, the way you act… it’s exhausting.”
The air shifted instantly. His eyes went cold, stormy. His hair fell across his forehead, shadowing the twisted look that she didn’t see. His grip on her hand tightened.
“Clarissa,” he said softly, too softly. “Are you saying you’re tired of me?”
“Of course not!” she said quickly. “I just mean—love isn’t everything. We still need our own careers, our own lives.”
“Not everything?” His laugh was low and sharp. “Then tell me—who else do you want, if not me? William? Lawrence? That silver-haired bastard from tonight? Or someone else I haven’t met yet?”
Her lips parted in disbelief. “Atticus… is that what this is about? You saw me talking to Mark, and now—”
Her anger sharpened. “We really need to talk about this.”
But Clarissa’s calm reasoning only fed the fire in him. She never saw it—never saw the hunger in other men’s eyes. Never saw how easily they’d snatch her away if he let her slip.
And the worst part? Deep down, he knew she could live without him. She’d almost chosen William before. She didn’t need him.
The thought ripped through him like poison. Jealousy scorched his chest, and when he looked at her again, his eyes burned with a sinister, murderous heat.
“What else is there to talk about?” Atticus’s voice was low, rough. “You’re just tired of me. You want me out of your way so you can have time for other men, isn’t that it?”
“Atticus!”
Clarissa’s voice rose sharply, cutting him off. Tears stung her eyes. His words stabbed at her heart like a knife.
“What are you even saying? Do you think I’m that kind of woman?”
She tried to hold herself together, but her eyes went red anyway, her nose burning with the effort. “You know I’m not…”
The sight of her tears jarred him back to himself. His chest tightened with guilt. “I’m sorry, Clarissa. I was wrong. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry…”
He reached for her, wanting to wipe her tears, to pull her against him, but she shoved him away.
The rejection froze him where he stood. Darkness gathered in his eyes, thick and inky. She didn’t notice, too lost in her own hurt. She stared at the crown of his dark head, her voice trembling. “How could you even think that of me? You should know me better. I thought you did…”
“Clarissa.”
His voice cracked as he suddenly wrapped both arms around her waist, dropping to his knees before her. He pressed his face against her stomach, his breath ragged. “Don’t wait until next year. Give me a baby this year. When we go home, stop taking the pills. Please.”
Her body stiffened, her pulse thudding. A sharp discomfort flared in her chest. “Atticus… what am I to you, really?”
His head lifted, his eyes blazing. “You’re my life. I can’t breathe without you. Clarissa, promise me.”
Normally, when he begged like this—spoiled, desperate—her heart softened and she caved. But this time her face stayed solemn.
“You want a baby? Because you love the idea… or because you want to chain me to you forever?”
The words struck him like a slap. He froze, staring up at her, her steady gaze cutting into him.
“You don’t trust me,” she whispered. “You think I’d keep you and still go running to other men.”
“Of course not.” His denial was immediate, but guilt twisted in his gut.
Why was it always like this? His control, usually ironclad, snapped to pieces when it came to her. He wanted her too much. Needed her too much.
Clarissa, with her independence, her career, her endless drive—she would never let her world shrink down to just him. And yet, that was what he craved.
His hand tightened possessively at her waist. His voice dropped. “Clarissa, just because *you* don’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. That man—Mark—he was looking at you. He wants you. And you let him stand so close—”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Then anger. “Mark? You think he’s interested in me? You’re imagining things. He’s my employee, nothing more. He calls me ‘Miss Clarissa’ like everyone else. That’s all.”
“You’re blind,” Atticus muttered. His jaw clenched. “Men see each other clearly. Stay away from him. Better yet—fire him. I’ll find you someone else.”
Her fury snapped. She shoved at his chest. “Atticus, listen to yourself! Do you hear how insane you sound? He hasn’t done anything to you, and you’re ready to ruin his career just because you’re jealous? You’re acting like an asshole. Stop it. Or I swear I’ll really get angry.”
He held her gaze, saw the fire in her eyes, and knew she wouldn’t bend this time. Slowly, he bit back the words on his tongue and forced himself to ease.
Clarissa pressed her temples, feeling the headache building. His intensity was suffocating, pressing down on every breath she tried to take.
She exhaled, steadying herself, and said softly, “Didn’t you say you made dinner?”
His eyes flicked up to her. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded.