14 | ☕ Dinner Date with Atlas ☕ #3
He signed quickly, his hands moving with fluid precision.
His eyes locked on hers, and there was something in the way he moved his hands, something that said he wasn't just trying to convince her—it was a challenge, an invitation to see a different side of him.
Anya leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied him, her lips curving into a playful smile. "More than just spreadsheets and board meetings, huh? I'd like to see that."
Atlas's smirk deepened, and he signed something quickly, his hands moving with fluid precision. "Wait for it."
Anya watched him closely, trying to read his expression. When he finished, he chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "It's coming, trust me."
She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Now I'm really intrigued. What's next? A tap dance?"
Before she could respond, the waiter arrived, placing two plates of steaming pasta in front of them, the aroma of garlic and basil filling the air.
The pasta was simple—nothing extravagant—but there was something about the way it was served, the generous portions, that made it feel like more than just a meal.
A side of crispy garlic bread was placed between them, warm and inviting.
It was exactly what Anya needed—a comfort that didn't demand attention, but quietly made her feel welcome.
Anya picked up her fork, still laughing softly. "You really expect me to believe that? I mean, it looks good, but I'm not sure 'life-changing' is in its future."
Anya hesitated for a moment, feeling his eyes on her, but then she shrugged and twirled the pasta onto her fork.
She lifted it to her mouth, taking a bite.
Her eyes widened slightly at the taste—the sauce was rich and savoury, the pasta perfectly al dente.
"Okay," she said, smiling, "I'll admit, you were right. This is pretty damn good."
Atlas's face lit up, a small but pleased smile tugging at his lips. "Told you."
"Alright, fine," Anya said with mock resignation. "I'll give you the win on the pasta. But don't get too cocky. I still have high standards."
Atlas leaned back in his chair, watching her with a look of quiet amusement. "High standards? Is that so? I'll keep that in mind."
Anya twirled more pasta onto her fork, feeling a bit more at ease now that the tension had dissipated. She shot him a playful glance. "You know, I thought you'd be one of those 'silent, brooding CEO' types, but I'm beginning to think there's more to you than meets the eye."
Atlas raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her assessment. "Oh really? And what else do you think you've figured out about me?"
Anya leaned in a little, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "Well, for one, you've got a soft spot for good food and cozy restaurants, so maybe you're not as intimidating as the rumours say."
Atlas's smirk grew, and he signed with a fluid motion, "Maybe I'm just full of surprises." His eyes gleamed with amusement, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth.
Anya raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, I'm sure there are plenty more surprises I haven't discovered yet," she said, taking a sip of her wine. "But you know what? I'll give you credit. You're also pretty good at making coffee."
Atlas's eyebrows lifted slightly at the unexpected praise, a small laugh escaping him as he signed with a teasing flourish, "Coffee is an art form. I've perfected it." He gave a slight nod, as if to emphasize just how serious he was about his brewing skills.
Anya chuckled, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "You, making coffee? Now that's a surprise. I'd never have guessed. Guess there's more to you than just business suits and boardrooms after all."
Atlas raised a finger to his lips in a mock-serious gesture, clearly enjoying the banter. He signed, "You'll be amazed what I can do with a good espresso machine." His gaze softened slightly, as if he were sharing a piece of himself she hadn't seen yet.
"Now you're just showing off," Anya teased, but there was a softness in her voice. Maybe Atlas was more than the intimidating CEO she'd initially thought. Maybe there was a whole side to him that was, well... normal. She smiled at him, feeling a strange sense of ease she hadn't expected.
"Uh, Atlas... you sure you want to share a dessert with me?" Anya asked, half-joking, half-serious. "I'm a tiramisu fiend."
Atlas's lips curled into a sly grin. "I can handle it."
And just like that, the night settled into a comfortable rhythm—laughs, soft conversation, the occasional teasing, and a quiet sense of familiarity growing between them. By the time they left the restaurant, Anya was feeling a warmth inside that had nothing to do with the chilly night air outside.
Maybe dinner with Atlas wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe he wasn't as intimidating as everyone made him out to be. Maybe he was just... a guy. A guy who chose an Italian restaurant for dinner, who smiled, who laughed, and who wasn't as terrifying as the rumours suggested.
And just maybe, she was starting to think that she could get used to this.