Chapter 3
1211 Words
Atlas’ POV
My first few weeks in the Philippines had been suffocating—mentally, emotionally, all of it. The stress was piling up fast. I needed a break.
I dragged myself to the bar and took the first empty stool I saw. I didn’t even check the menu.
“Something strong,” I told the bartender. I needed the burn. I needed the numbness.
Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples, hoping to ease the pounding tension that had made a home in my skull.
“Atlas? Is that you?”
A hand tapped my shoulder. I turned.
Simon. A family friend. Great.
“Hey,” I said. My voice came out flat, dull—nothing like I intended.
“It’s really you! When did you get here?”
He sat beside me without waiting for an invite.
Just my luck.
“A few weeks ago.”
I wanted to be left alone. My thoughts were a mess. But I couldn’t be rude. Not to him.
He flagged the bartender and ordered something for himself before speaking again.
“I didn't hear about it. But, man—you look like hell. What happened?”
“Nothing. Just work. You?”
He was trying, and I appreciated that, in theory. He was a good guy, and I wanted to match his energy, but I was miles away in my own mind.
“Well, things are great. Actually, I came over ‘cause I’m excited about something... and it involves you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
What now?
He didn’t even let me ask.
“I’m going on a date—with your hot stepsister.”
My stomach turned. My jaw clenched. I felt the grip around my glass tighten.
“What did you just say?”
“Your dad called me up last night, said your stepsister needed a date for the weekend. I said yes. I mean, who would turn that down? I’ve had my eye on her forever.”
My breath caught in my throat. So that’s their new plan? When they couldn’t get to my brother, they aimed for someone else? Unbelievable.
I threw a few thousand-peso bills on the bar and stood up.
“I have to go. Nice seeing you.”
“Atlas—hey! Where are you going?”
I heard him call after me, but I didn’t look back.
Zia’s POV
Today’s the day. The date with Simon.
Yes, I know him. We’ve met at parties. Chatted a few times. He seems interested. And honestly? I need him to be. If I want to leave this place for good, I need someone to take me away. That someone could be him.
I rummaged through my closet for something daring, something that would scream look at me. But all my clothes were conservative.
Boring.
Then I remembered that dress—the red mini-dress Artemis gifted me ages ago. I never dared wear it. It was too revealing. Too bold.
But tonight? Tonight was different.
I found the box under my bed and pulled out the dress.
This is it.
I slipped it on, did my makeup, and spritzed my perfume. By 5 PM, I was ready—on purpose, earlier than planned. Mama and Tito were out. I didn’t want them to see me like this.
I twirled in front of my full-length mirror. The sleeves were sheer, the neckline plunged just enough to tease, and the hem? Let’s just say it didn’t care for modesty. It hugged every curve I had. Simon won’t stand a chance.
The house was quiet. Artemis was out of town. Atlas? Who knew. He came and went as he pleased.
I made it all the way to the car—until…
“Where the hell do you think you’re going dressed like a total slut?!”
I froze. Blood drained from my face.
Atlas.
“I-I have to go... somewhere.”
God, why did I stutter?! This wasn’t his business!
“To where? A bar?!”
“Seriously, this is none of your business. You said you want me gone. Well, I’m leaving. So move.”
Who did he think he was?
“There’s no way I’m letting you out dressed like that.”
His voice was firm. Protective. Hypocritical.
“You’re not my brother,” I snapped.
“Oh, believe me, I wish I weren’t. But you’ve been in my house for a decade. Like it or not, people associate you with our name. And I won’t let you disgrace it. Get in the car. We’re going shopping.”
What the hell just happened?
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Fine. Then I’ll send a picture of your outfit to your mom. And dad.”
My heart dropped.
Mama would be crushed.
Without a word, I walked to his car. Once I got there, I hesitated. Front seat or back? Back would make him a chauffeur. Front meant sitting beside him.
“Passenger seat.”
Of course he noticed.
I climbed in, utterly confused.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To buy you something decent to wear.”
He gave my dress a once-over. My face burned.
God, I’m practically naked.
“What’s wrong? Suddenly embarrassed?” he sneered. “Thought you wanted everyone to see that body of yours.”
My blood boiled. That smug look, that tone—he was enjoying this.
“Oh yes,” I said sarcastically. “I want every man to see me. To touch me. Everyone—except you. You disgust me!”
He slammed the brakes and pulled to the side of the road. I nearly screamed.
“You’re impossible! You could’ve killed us!”
My body was shaking from fear and anger. He was out of control.
“I disgust you?” he said lowly. “That’s not what your body said the last time I kissed you.”
I froze.
That memory hit like a lightning bolt.
His eyes burned into mine. “Look at you. Your face is practically begging for another one.”
Then he leaned in. Unbuckled his seatbelt. Moved closer.
I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve pushed him away. But my brain shut down. My skin tingled.
When he kissed me, it was fire—hotter, deeper, needier than before. I gripped my seatbelt like it could anchor me.
He undid mine and before I knew it, I was on his lap, kissing him back. Hard. Like I forgot who I was.
His hands found my thighs, then my hips. He pulled me down onto him, making our bodies touch in the most intimate way. My back arched involuntarily.
“Ooohh…”
His lips trailed down my neck, to my collarbone, brushing over the swell of my breasts—even through the fabric.
“This is disgust, huh?” he whispered.
Reality hit me like a slap.
I shoved his hands away and scrambled back to my seat. Shame burned hotter than anything else.
“Take me back. Please.”
He opened his mouth—then shut it. No words.
We drove to a boutique. I picked the first dress I saw. He didn’t comment.
He offered to take me to the restaurant, but I refused.
Not again.
- Writer
