17 | ☕Congratulations, Atlas Own a Café ☕
Anya was in denial. It was the only logical explanation. She couldn't bring herself to admit the truth, not even to herself. Denial was the shield she hid behind, the thin layer of hope that, if she ignored it long enough, would make everything go away.
If she didn't acknowledge it—didn't face the fact that Atlas was becoming increasingly possessive of her—then maybe, just maybe, it wasn't really happening.
Maybe it was just a phase, something that would pass.
After all, Atlas had always been protective of her, but lately, it felt like his watchful gaze had become more suffocating than caring.
Right?
Right.
And she was determined to keep it that way.
The door swung open with a violent push, the force of it slamming against the wall with a loud thud that made everyone in the café jump.
In walked Kaia, her eyes wide, her breath coming in sharp, ragged pulls.
Her face was flushed, not from exertion, but from what could only be described as pure rage.
Her jaw was clenched so tightly that her teeth visibly ground together, her fists trembling at her sides, as if she were trying to contain a storm that was about to break free.
Her usually composed demeanour was completely gone, replaced by an explosive energy that seemed to crackle in the air around her.
She moved with purpose, her every step radiating anger, as though the very ground beneath her feet was something to be conquered, something to be destroyed.
The murmur of conversation in the café hushed instantly, the other patrons shrinking back, instinctively sensing that whatever had set her off was not something they wanted to be caught in the middle of.
Kaia's presence alone was enough to change the entire atmosphere, turning the once-comfortable café into a charged, tense space.
Without warning, Kaia slammed a piece of paper onto the counter with such force that the sound echoed through the quiet hum of the café like a bomb going off.
The sheer energy of it made Anya freeze mid-sip, the warmth of her coffee suddenly too heavy in her hands.
Her pulse raced, her breath catching in her throat as she watched the paper flutter on the counter, daring her to face whatever was written on it.
"WHAT. THE. HELL."
Anya blinked at her, still processing the chaotic force of Kaia's entrance.
The sound of the door slamming against the wall still echoed in her ears, the air around her thick with tension.
She took a deliberate sip of her coffee, as though that might somehow provide an anchor, something to hold onto in the midst of the storm.
Her heart was beating faster than usual, her body stiff with the weight of the moment.
"Good morning to you, too," she said, her voice coming out a little too calm, almost too casual, as if she could brush off the hurricane that had just walked into her life.
But Kaia wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.
She leaned forward, her eyes burning with accusation, and thrust her finger down onto the document, the paper crinkling under the pressure like it might rip at any moment.
The force of it made Anya flinch slightly, and she could feel her chest tighten with a growing sense of unease.
"READ IT," Kaia demanded, her voice low and dangerous, a tone that sent a shiver down Anya's spine.
Anya's gaze flickered briefly between Kaia's furious face and the paper beneath her finger, before her eyes hesitated, drawn down to the document.
Her stomach dropped as she tried to make sense of it, her mind scrambling to piece together what was happening.
The words blurred for a moment, her focus slipping as her heart pounded in her chest.
She quickly skimmed the document, her fingers tracing the lines like she could somehow make sense of it faster than her brain could catch up.
The words on the page were sharp, damning.
And then everything came to a screeching halt.
Anya stared at the page in her hands like it was some kind of foreign artifact, her fingers frozen, her eyes struggling to process what they were seeing. Her brain refused to catch up to reality.
...Purchase Agreement?
No.
Her heart skipped a beat, a cold chill crawling up her spine, her breath catching in her throat like it had suddenly forgotten how to work.
This couldn't be right. This couldn't be—
She blinked, hard, willing her eyes to stop playing tricks on her. But no. There it was, written in bold, undeniable black ink.
Her eyes zeroed in on the name at the bottom of the page.
Atlas Valtieri.
Atlas. Valtieri.
Atlas.
Her world tilted, just a little bit at first, then more. Like she was on a shaky ride at the carnival, except the ride wasn't fun. It was terrifying.
Atlas.
Had.
Bought.
The café.
Her mouth went dry, and she couldn't seem to swallow. It felt like a trap, some sort of elaborate prank. A cruel, twisted joke. Maybe it was April Fool's Day and she just didn't get the memo.
"What," Anya said, her voice small, brittle, and utterly disbelieving, as if she were asking the universe to explain itself. "What?"
Kaia—her wonderfully unpredictable, yet totally unfiltered best friend—snapped her hands into the air like a hyperactive conductor leading a choir of chaos.
"OH, NOW SHE GETS IT," Kaia bellowed, her voice reverberating off the walls of the café like she was announcing the arrival of some legendary rock band, and maybe, in some alternate universe, she was.
She flung her arms dramatically, nearly knocking over a stack of napkins in the process, and Anya winced.
Anya's chair scraped across the floor with an ear-splitting screech as she shot to her feet, her pulse hammering in her chest. She could hardly breathe, as if someone had just stolen the very air from her lungs. "WHAT."
Kaia's voice hit a pitch Anya had never heard before—a combination of pure shock and mounting fury that shook the very foundation of the café. "You tell me! I just found out THIS MORNING that my café is NO LONGER MY CAFé!"
Anya, still clutching the paper like it was some kind of life raft in a sea of confusion, flipped it over, back, and then back again.
She stared at the words, as though, by some miracle, they would rearrange themselves into something less horrifying.
Something she could actually understand.
But no matter how many times she looked, it still said the same thing.
Atlas. Valtieri. Bought. The. Café.
Her brain stuttered, refusing to comprehend the implications, refusing to grasp that the place she'd worked so hard to build—the tiny little slice of chaos that had become her second home—was now in the hands of a man who was as much a coffee aficionado as he was a walking nightmare.
"But why—how—" Anya's voice trembled as she searched for words that could somehow explain this madness.
Kaia threw her hands up, the sheer exasperation in her movements enough to set off a chain reaction of every single barista in the café suddenly freezing in their tracks, wide-eyed.
"I DON'T KNOW, ANYA! Maybe he wants to turn my beautiful, independent coffee shop into some sort of corporate monstrosity! Or maybe he's building a secret lair in the back with a cappuccino machine that dispenses lattes of doom! WHO KNOWS?!"
The thought of Atlas Valtieri, the cool, detached businessman with more confidence than anyone had a right to have, secretly having a lair in the back of the café was... almost believable. He did give off that kind of vibe.
"I mean," Kaia continued, pacing frantically now, "he has all the money in the world. And I bet he looked at my humble little café and thought, 'Hmm, I want to ruin someone's life today, but in the most caffeinated way possible!' And I just—" She threw her arms out,
gesturing to the space around them like it was suddenly a crime scene, "—I thought it was my place, Anya. My space, my rules. And now I'm a tenant in my own café!"
And then, just as Anya thought she might crumble into a puddle of panic, the door chimed again, the familiar sound slicing through the tension like a bell tolling in a haunted church.
Anya's head snapped toward the door with the kind of speed that might have given her whiplash if she weren't already so frazzled.
There he was.
Atlas.
He stepped into the café like he owned the very air, his presence warping the atmosphere around him.
It was the same unsettling calm he always wore—like a cloak.
The kind of calm that made everything in the vicinity feel like it was slightly out of place, like he belonged somewhere far beyond the little, rustic café where Anya had spent hours pouring coffee, rearranging chairs, and listening to life happening just outside the windows.
His whole vibe screamed I'm too cool for this planet, but somehow, he still managed to occupy the space with the ease of a man who knew how to bend reality to his will.
He strolled in, hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, like he hadn't just pulled off a move that defied all logic—and, frankly, most known laws of human decency.
Anya's mind was still whirling, and before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out. "You... you bought Kaia's café?"
Her voice was shaky, and her words felt almost foreign in the tense silence that had fallen over the room. All eyes were on her, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from Atlas.
He hadn't said a word, but he didn't need to.
His eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made the air around them thicken.
It was like everything in the café faded into the background—the hushed murmurs, the clinking of cups, the soft hum of music—none of it mattered.
He wasn't looking at anyone else in the room, just her.
And the way he looked at her, it was like the whole world had narrowed down to just that moment, just them.
The ground beneath her feet felt like it was shifting, as if the very foundation of reality had decided to take a holiday. She took a half step back, trying to steady herself, but his gaze held her in place, unrelenting.