ATLAS
The elevator dinged on the ground floor, and I tried as much as I could to stride out casually, adjusting my tie and smoothening a hand over it.
I couldn’t let everyone know that I was worked up. That I was enraged to my bones.
Of course, I never wear my emotions on my sleeves that way. I have to act coordinated. I have to be coordinated, if I want to get anything done.
And I have a whole f*****g lot to get done.
I didn’t even bother going in search of my asshole of a brother anymore. I was fuming about how low my father had spoken of Elena.
I mean, even if he didn’t like her, how could he call her a deadweight?
Oh the itch that had so begged to be scratched. The itch to make it clear to my father in a tone as stern as his, that Elena, this woman I was completely mesmerized by
