Page 31 of Rulebreaker (Gamebreakers #4)

THIRTY-ONE

Atlas

Christ.

She’s exhausted, the dark circles beneath her eyes so black they look bruised. And her skin.

Fuck.

Normally she’s so bright and vibrant, so full of vigor and life, but right now…

She’s worn down, her shine taken away.

My fault.

My fucking fault.

And maybe the fact that she just lost her husband?—

I mentally shake myself, know that I can’t allow the guilt, the thoughts of Lily, of my Lily hurting because of me, of–worse–loving another man, of–worst of fucking all–being alone and suffering.

Without me by her side.

But this isn’t the time for that shit.

It’s time to deal with the shit.

As in, the fucker standing in my Lily’s space, breathing heavily, tainting her air with his fury.

He doesn’t know what fury is.

He’s about to experience it.

“Steady, Texas,” I murmur, cupping Lily’s jaw. “This’ll just take a minute.”

She nods shakily.

I hold tight to that then spin on my heel, moving over to the asshole and not stopping. He skitters back when he realizes that, stumbling over his feet as I keep crowding him, keep herding him.

All without laying a fucking finger on the asshole.

That may come later.

For now, the coward shaking in front of me, his hands going behind him to steady himself against the wall I’ve cornered him against is intimidated with merely a glare and my body.

“Wh-who are y-you?” he stammers.

“Take a real good look, asshole,” I say, stepping even closer, the toes of my dress shoes brushing his. “I think you’ll recognize me.”

“I’m a lawyer”—desperate words—“if you touch me, I’ll sue.”

“And I”—I lean closer, my lips curving up into a cold smile—“have enough money to keep you tied up in court until you’re six feet underground.”

He audibly gulps and I finally see the clarity dawn on his dumb face. “At-Atlas Delarosa?”

“That’s Mr. Delarosa to you.” I flick up my brows in question. “And you are?”

Another gulp.

But it’s Lily who answers for him. “Harrison Huntington. ”

My smile grows, but I know it’s not remotely pleasant, know he feels its chill. “The lawyer.” I don’t move as I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

I hit a button—one that takes me straight into a video call with the head of my legal team.

Bec Darden is a shark, one of the best lawyers I’ve ever had the privilege of working with, and that’s privilege because she doesn’t just work with anyone.

Lucky for me she deemed me worthy.

And lucky for me, she loves to chew up and spit out assholes like this just as much as I do.

She picks up on the second ring, bedhead on full display, considering the early hour on the west coast. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I know that you’re going to love this.” I turn the camera around.

There’s a pause. “Is that Stan Conner’s attorney?”

I nod. “Harrison,” I say dryly, knowing she’ll find his name–fit for an asshole–as amusing as I do.

Then I focus. Because Lily’s hurting. Because I need to get this fuck out of here, need to make sure he’s so fucking scared he stays away.

“Do me a favor and get the entire legal team on Lily’s prenup and separation agreements? ”

She jerks her chip up. “Did Harrison draft them?”

I lift my brows at the man in question.

“Is that—” A gulp. “Is that Rebecca Darden?”

She snorts and I don’t blame her. Because Harrison is trembling, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple.

“I don’t believe that’s the proper answer to the question,” I say dryly. “Did you draft the agreements?”

“I— ”

I flick up my brows again.

“Yes.”

Bec grins her shark-like smile. “I’ll be in the office in a half hour with the team.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Oh, and Bec?”

“Yeah?”

“Please also reach out to my contact at the FBI?—”

Harrison chokes.

“We’ll need to open up an investigation for blackmail against our friend Harrison here.”

More sweat, and swear to fuck, his eyes tear up.

“On it,” Bec says and hangs up.

I pocket my phone, the toes of my shoes still brushing Harrison’s, my face still so close that I can smell the stink of his nervous sweat.

He trembles.

I flick up my brows yet again. “Is there a reason you’re still standing there?”

He shakes his head jerkily and, when I don’t back up, plasters himself against the wall and slowly slides out. Once free, he all but sprints from the room.

I follow, make sure that he goes, that the door is closed and locked behind him.

“You need to go too, sir,” the housekeeper says.

I open my mouth to tell her there’s no fucking way I’m going, but before I get anything out, I hear, “It’s okay, Dora.”

Turning, I see Lily in the hall

Still pale. Still exhausted.

Still hurting.

Right. I need to fix that.

I stride over to her, taking her hand, some of the sharp, wounding worry inside me easing when she lets me, when she doesn’t fight me drawing her back into the sitting room, gently nudging her down onto the couch.

I crouch down next to her. “First,” I say, still holding her hand, but now squeezing it lightly, bringing her eyes back to mine, “I need to apologize.”

Her chest rises and falls on a deep breath. “Yes,” she says quietly, slipping her fingers from mine. “You do.”

My gut twists, but I don’t let that distract me.

“I’m sorry, Texas,” I say. “So incredibly sorry.” I let that sit in the air, wanting her to know I mean it, that it comes without strings.

And then, when her eyes drift back to mine, I ask, “Can I explain why I reacted that way? Not to excuse it,” I add when hurt slides through her expression. “Just…explain.”

She goes still, gaze on mine, and I hold my breath for a long moment.

Then, thank fuck, she nods.

“The only people who’ve never let me down in my life are Banks, Royal, and Dash.”

“Not Colt?”

“Colt didn’t tell anyone he reenlisted, and then he was killed and he left Dash, left us not just with the guilt of being alive when he wasn’t, but also with the knowledge of all that we were going to miss out on—no more Christmases together, no more birthdays or nights out partying.

He never got to see Banks play an NHL game in person, never saw Royal play to a sold-out stadium with one hundred thousand screaming fans.

He didn’t get to be a partner in the successful security business he and Dash planned to start, didn’t get to experience it grow into the powerhouse it is today.

Hell, he never even experienced a Sunday Dinner. ”

“And he didn’t see you grow your business into what it is today,” she says softly .

“No.” I exhale. “He missed out on all that, and that’s probably the worst of all.”

“Atlas.”

I touch her hand, acknowledging the sympathy in her voice, but needing her to know the rest, to know all of it.

“So there was one of my best friends not being the man I thought he was…” I take a breath because the next part is harder.

“And I told you a bit about my mom, about how she gave me up and I spent half my life in foster care?—”

She nods again when I pause.

“What you don’t know—” I grind my teeth together, throat growing tight. “Fuck,” I mutter, “why is this hard?” I close my eyes, exhale, and…

Her fingers find mine again.

And suddenly the words slide free.

“What you don’t know is that she showed back up in my life a couple of years ago.”

Lily’s fingers tighten around mine.

“I thought—” I shake my head and open my eyes, laughing humorlessly.

“It doesn’t really matter what I thought.

She wasn’t there to be a supportive parent, to explain what happened and make amends, to build a relationship, maybe not as mother-son, but something that could become meaningful and fulfilling. ”

“And that didn’t happen?”

“No,” I say. “Turns out that she was using me.” My smile is forced.

“And she wasn’t the first or last–there were girlfriends, so-called friends, college acquaintances, even my fucking doctors who wanted things from me.

The more successful I got, the more people tried to use me.

And after the fourth time someone tried to steal from me, I started to do a full background check on everyone around me.

I needed to make sure there were no debts I’d be expected to pay off, no lawsuits they’d need my help navigating, no business ventures I would be the perfect investor for. ”

“Honey,” she whispers.

“It’s the nature of the business,” I say on a shrug. “But that doesn’t excuse the way I reacted to you.”

“Except”—her hand squeezes mine again—“I gave you a hard time about doing background checks.”

“You pointed out, rightly, that it’s kind of fucked up.”

“Well, considering all that happened in your past,” she says, “I understand the why of it a bit more.”

I wince. “That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“Maybe not,” she says. “But if I’m being honest, I was kind of hoping that you’d run the check on me, that you knew about Stan and didn’t actually care.

I knew I needed to level with you and explain, but…

” She rubs her forehead with her free hand.

“It was such a mess and so damned complicated and I knew how it would look, so I kept putting off telling you. That’s on me.

I should have leveled with you when it became clear how deep both of our feelings were becoming. ”

“None of this is your fault.”

A laugh. “I’m the naive idiot who married someone forty years older than her.”

My fingers spasm. “Did he force?—”

A shake of her head. “No.” She sighs. “But looking back, I see I was easily manipulated into tying my music’s rights to the prenup.

I didn’t think it would be an issue—Stan and I cared for each other and he was gentle and kind and cared about my career in a way no one else ever had before, but it wasn’t true love, and we both realized it wasn’t the right move for us within a couple of years. ”

“But you stayed married?”

“My career took off and the optics of our marriage didn’t fit with the persona we’d created, so we decided to legally separate, planned to quietly divorce when things quieted down.

I’d get my rights back, he’d get a portion of royalties on the songs he helped with.

” A faraway look in her eyes. “Then he got sick.”

Fuck.

“What happened?”

“Dementia—it came on hard and fast, and he couldn’t sign legal paperwork for a divorce, and his estate couldn’t afford his care. So, I decided to make sure he was covered and just…ride out the prenup. It barely had any time left on it and…” Her eyes come to mine. “Then I met you.”

I suck in a breath.

“And as much as I tried to stay away, I couldn’t.”

“Lily.”

“I fell in love with you and I…I just couldn’t let you go, even though I knew I should.”

“I didn’t exactly make it easy.”

She touches my jaw, and the contact is so right it’s almost painful. “And the more I got to know you, the harder I fell, and I knew that it was more than one night. It was destiny .”

“Texas,” I rasp.

“So, I’m sorry too. Sorry I didn’t talk to you until it was too late, sorry it all came out like it did, sorry?—”

I can’t take it anymore.

I weave my hands into the strands of her hair and I kiss her with everything I’m feeling–and it’s a fucking lot.

Only when my lungs protest do I pull back, smoothing my thumb over her cheek. “No more apologies,” I whisper.

“From either of us.” She holds my eyes and I hate the sadness still clinging to her.

Need to see her smile.

“No apologies even when I tell you I watched the next episode of 90 Day without you? ”

She does more than smile.

She laughs–and it’s my Lily again, bright and beautiful and mine.

I sit in that for a moment.

Then I focus.

“Now, what can I do to help?”