Page 23 of Gravehouse

“Has it?” Atlas asks, brow arched.

I need a fucking drink. Pouring two fingers of whiskey, I leave the lid off and rest my hand against the bar.

“If you got a point, Atlas,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “make it.”

“I think you’re losing your way.”

My eyes snap open. Before I actually fucking swing, my hand finds the bottle again, leaving the glass behind because fuck it.

Taking a long swig of the expensive whiskey, I keep my eyes locked on his. When I no longer feel the fire in my throat and my stomach is about a second away from burning through my ribs, I lower it, swiping the residue off my lips.

“Camille’s on her way.”

His shoulders stiffen. “For dinner?”

My lip twitches. “To stay.”

Silence.

He recoils, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, Ash.”

Why can’t he see the obvious reasons why I’m doing what I’m doing?

“It makes things easier.”

“For who!” He yells, spit flying from his mouth.

Me.

Nobody.

I lift the bottle like a cheers and shrug. “For The House.”

Atlas’s mouth twists. “Bullshit.” He must have grown an extra nut sack because now he’s almost up in my shit. “You think bringing your ex in here is gonna piss off Ivy.”

Another swig, this time filling my mouth until the whiskey burns my tongue before swallowing. “What Ithinkis it establishes boundaries.”

“Also—”I add, sizing him up with a head tilt but not being completely serious. “Why are you in my face right now?”

All anger evaporates from his face as he steps back. Not a lot, because Atlas may be a gentler man than me, but he’s never been one to back away from a fight.

Laughter breaks the silence as his head tilts back. “Man, your guys’ fans are gonna eat you both alive!” All humor dies in his throat before his eyes slide back to mine, “Maybe you should just ask her about the incident so you can fight about it, have mad fucking sex, and move on instead of being so goddamn theatrical.”

A cold smile pulls at my mouth. “You really wanna defend her to me right now?”

“No.” He drags a hand through his hair, looking away for a split second before snapping back. “I want you to stop pretending this is about revenge.”

I shoulder barge past him because we’re done here.

Before I can reach the door his voice stops me. “You bring Camille into this game and I know you’re doing it on purpose.”

Actually, you don’t know shit.

“Regardless of my current issues,” I say through clenched teeth. “I still have an obligation.”

That should shut him the fuck up?—

“I guess we’re pretending your hands are tied.”