17 | ☕Congratulations, Atlas Own a Café ☕ #2
He moved toward her slowly, deliberately, each step calculated. There was something about the way he walked—like he knew she couldn't look away, like he was savoring the way he made her feel small, cornered, even though she didn't want to admit it. It was as if time had slowed just for him.
When he reached her, he didn't speak. The silence between them was thick, oppressive, and yet, somehow, soothing. His hands came up in a fluid motion, each finger moving with practiced ease, his gaze never leaving hers as he signed.
"I did," his hands signed, the words hanging in the air with an eerie calmness, as though he knew exactly what kind of storm he was about to stir.
He let the weight of those two words settle between them. Anya's heart skipped a beat, her chest tightening in a mixture of disbelief and something else she couldn't quite name.
And then he signed again, his hands moving with deliberate slowness, almost savouring the space between each gesture. "So you could stop looking at everyone else."
Anya's mouth went dry. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her mind struggled to keep up, her thoughts scrambling like they'd just been thrown into a blender. She shook her head, as if trying to shake off the weight of what he was saying.
"Wait, what?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. Her voice was louder than she'd intended, but it was the only thing that came out—shaky, disbelieving. "You bought Kaia's café... just for that?"
He didn't answer her with words. Instead, his hands rose again, moving like they were part of a dance, every movement precise, almost taunting.
He was taking his time, drawing it out, enjoying the power he had over her confusion.
It was like he had all the time in the world to watch her struggle to piece together what was happening.
"Yes." The word was simple, but it hit her like a punch to the gut. He signed again, his fingers moving in a smooth, deliberate arc. "I want your attention. All of it. No distractions."
Her breath caught in her throat, her stomach twisting as the meaning of his words crashed into her. He wasn't asking for her attention. He wasn't even requesting it. He was demanding it, in the quietest, most insidious way possible. The audacity of it left her reeling.
It wasn't just the words. It wasn't the absurdity of them, or the way they hung in the air like a challenge she couldn't even begin to answer. It was the certainty in his silence. The unspoken declaration that he knew, better than anyone, how this would all unfold.
And what she would do.
She blinked, unable to form a sentence, barely able to even process the reality of the situation. Her mind, which had already been in overdrive, crashed like an overloaded computer.
Anya.exe had stopped working.
Her thoughts, previously racing to come up with a logical response, had ground to a complete halt. All she could focus on was him—his steady, unyielding gaze, and the weight of his presence that pressed down on her with a force she couldn't shake.
Kaia, standing just behind her, muffled a noise—a mix of horror, disbelief, and the unmistakable sound of someone trying (and failing) to stifle laughter.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and a little too much enjoyment.
"Oh my god," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips, as if she was witnessing some kind of car crash and couldn't look away.
Anya didn't even know how to react.
She managed a sound. It wasn't even a word—it was more of a strangled gasp, a noise that was equal parts shock, confusion, and something else she refused to acknowledge. Something soft, buried beneath the layers of her frustration, like a secret she wasn't ready to face.
It was that something—whatever it was—that gnawed at her now.
The way he made her feel seen, even in her most overwhelmed, exasperated state.
She didn't want it. She didn't want to feel pulled toward him, to feel that slow burn of a deeper connection crawling through her like it had been there all along.
But it was there.
And Atlas? He looked entirely pleased with himself.
That smug little smirk of his—so annoyingly self-assured.
It tugged at the corner of his lips, even as his eyes sparkled with mischievous satisfaction.
He wasn't even trying to hide it. No. He was enjoying this.
Enjoying the chaos he had created, enjoying watching her unravel bit by bit.
"You think this is funny?" Anya finally managed, her voice weak, but tinged with the first hints of indignation. She wasn't sure whether she was more angry or embarrassed—probably both—but there was a flicker of defiance still fighting to surface.
Atlas didn't answer with words. Of course not. Words weren't necessary when his eyes did all the talking. His hands moved again, each sign deliberate and slow, as if he was savouring every second of this.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with a quiet amusement as if the question were entirely beneath him. "You spend too much time here."
The words hung in the air like a challenge she couldn't begin to dismantle. Anya's brain, still struggling to piece everything together, caught that one statement and tried to make sense of it—you spend too much time here? The ridiculousness of it almost sent her into a rage.
Kaia, who had been silently dying of second-hand embarrassment, choked on a breath.
Anya could practically hear her trying—and failing—not to lose it.
Her face flushed crimson as she quickly turned away, but it was obvious.
She was stifling laughter so hard it was almost a physical strain.
Anya could feel it, that barely contained giggle rising in the air between them, and she wanted to die of mortification.
Anya's patience finally snapped. She could only take so much. "BECAUSE I WORK HERE!" she screamed, her voice cracking with a mix of frustration and disbelief, as though the absurdity of the situation had finally broken through her dazed fog.
It was as though the entire café collectively blinked.
Time slowed. Atlas, on the other hand, didn't flinch.
Instead, he gave her that look—that quiet, self-assured, "I'm-right-and-you-know-it" look that was somehow both infuriating and hypnotizing.
His expression softened just the slightest fraction, the smugness blooming even brighter.
He was enjoying this.
Anya's hands clenched at her sides, but the words she wanted to say got stuck somewhere in her throat as he took a step closer to her. He leaned in just slightly, like he was making sure she caught every word.
"Not anymore." He signed, the motion slow, deliberate, as if relishing every syllable. "Now, you can just focus on me."
Anya's mind ground to a halt.
She blinked, her mouth still open in shock, trying to piece together the words she had just heard, the absurdity of the situation crashing over her in waves.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else.
The world around her blurred as her mind struggled to catch up, but it just couldn't.
No words came. The only sound was the frantic thrum of her heartbeat as it echoed in the silence that had descended upon the café.
Kaia, leaning against the counter with a hand still covering her mouth, whispered under her breath, "I am living for this."
The quiet laughter in Kaia's voice only made Anya more acutely aware of the absurdity of it all. Her best friend was enjoying this, enjoying watching her flounder under the weight of Atlas's presence. The smug weight of Atlas's presence.
Anya couldn't even begin to wrap her head around it. She worked here. She loved this place. And Atlas—who was clearly not the type to buy random things on a whim—had just ripped it from her grasp like it was his for the taking.
And her?
She was caught, stunned, paralyzed in place, her feet somehow frozen to the ground.
It was a sickening realization, a chilling one that sank deeper the more she tried to deny it: There was no escaping him.
No running.
No hiding.
Atlas Valtieri always got what he wanted.