Her Titans by Genevieve Jasper

Maxton

8

“She seemed okay when she left this morning,” I reassure Atlas. “Maybe quiet, but she might not be a morning person.”

“Yeah, she seemed alright earlier. I left her at dinner with Lia so hopefully they’re having fun.”

“I’m sure she’s just peachy,” Quince replies, heavy on the sarcasm.

We’re all sitting around the dining table, our default gathering place when we aren’t working. It makes sense for us to have our workspace within our home where we’re secure, but we still try not to live and breathe work. Especially with what we do. You need that separation to remain sane.

“What is your problem?” Atlas asks him and I sigh, readying for this argument again.

“I don’t trust her.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” I counter. “Your trust issues have been building for years.”

“Yeah, thanks to beautiful women like Madelaine, I’d like to point out.”

“Well, innocent until proven guilty, I say,” Atlas declares.

“Since when do you say that?”

“Since I met Madelaine.”

“God, you’re sickening. Am I the only one who can see all the dodgy vibes she gives off?”

“Like what?” I ask, humouring him.

“Like refusing to give her name to avoid a background check.”

“She didn’t refuse. She told you the first time any of us straight out asked her, and why on earth would she think we’d do a background check?”

“Oh, please. You mingle with the Titans, you get checked out. Everyone knows that,” Quince insists.

“I don’t think she knows who we are,” Atlas says.

“As if. If she has any connection to the Vipers, then she knows.”

“Exactly, so maybe she doesn’t have a connection to the Vipers.”

“How do you explain the photo?” Quince asks, not giving up for a second.

“Why would they try to hurt her with the fire?” I ask him, ignoring his question. None of it makes sense to me, which is making me edgy, seeing as security is my responsibility. Nothing is adding up, but I don’t believe she’s playing us.

“They didn’t though, did they,” Quincy continues. “They burnt everything in minutes when she wasn’t at home.”

“And what’s the point of that? To send her a warning now that we’ve had ours?”

“She hasn’t mentioned receiving any threats or knowing a possible reason for the fire to me,” Atlas states.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause she’s been so forthcoming with information so far. She seems to get way more out of us than we get from her,” Quince says bitterly. “She even has a whole backup home to cover up her real life. That’s not normal, At.”

None of this is new information and doesn’t seem to bother Atlas in the slightest. “I’m sure there’s a reason for that.”

“Good luck getting that from her.”

“Whatever, Quinn. She’s staying.”

“Excellent. Invite her into our home. Definitely not exactly what a Viper spy would want. Did you even need to convince her to come back?” he asks.

“I’m pretty sure the only reason she came back last night without a fight was that she was practically comatose,” I say. She hadn’t seemed massively keen to spend any more time in our company in the car.

Atlas takes a phone out of his pocket and waves it at us. “I can be very persuasive,” he smirks, replacing the phone.

“She has turned you into such a psycho, At,” Quince complains.

“Nah, she’s just brought it out of him,” I correct.

Atlas ignores us both and gets up to make us each a drink. He always has one when he gets back from the weekly lunches with his family. Says he needs to remind himself he’s a man after suffering through his mom’s babying. I’m surprised she doesn’t hand-feed him.

“What happened when we got back, anyway?” I ask him, recalling him going back and forth to the room we gave her.

“Nothing. Like you say, she was practically comatose. Great actress if she is pretending,” he aims at Quince. “She just kept listing the things she doesn’t have anymore. I mean, her whole life had just gone up in flames.”

“If that was even her actual house,” Quince mutters.

Atlas ignores him and continues while handing out the whiskies and taking his seat again. “Jeremy found her some pyjamas and clothes from God knows where and I ran her a bath, tried to get her to relax and eat something.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to get her in your bed.”

“Fuck off, Quinn, she was in shock.”

Just as Quince unwisely opens his mouth to bitch back at Atlas some more, Madelaine walks through the front door. Atlas spins around to face her and must have a shit-eating grin on his face, because her eyes narrow when they settle on him.

“I don’t know what you’re looking so pleased with yourself for. You managed to trick a woman into going back to your house, well done,” she says with an eye roll. “Where is it?” she asks, walking over to us at the table.

“Let’s chat first,” Atlas bargains.

She walks to the other end, sitting opposite us like a board meeting. “Okay, what do you want?”

“I meant me and you.”

“Now or never, Atlas.”

She’s lucky he seems to worship the ground she walks on. No guy would get away with talking to him that abruptly.

“Fine. I want you to stay here until we’ve spoken to the police and worked out what the fire was all about. This place is secure, and then you’re not putting Amelia at risk or staying alone in a hotel where anyone can get to you.”

He clearly has her attention after mentioning Amelia, and her jaw tightens. “All valid points, fine.” He looks shocked but recovers well. “I’ve got the day off to sort things out tomorrow, but then I’ll be back at work for the rest of the week.”

“What is it you do?” Quince asks, jumping at the chance for more answers.

“I’m an interior architect.”

“Madelaine, from LLI?” I ask her.

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

“You did the bar refurbishment,” I say, as understanding dawns on me.

“Yeah. It looked good, right?” she says proudly. It had looked great, we’d just asked them to work with us on a few more projects. She was insanely talented. Brains and beauty, she is going to ruin us all.

“We own that bar,” Quince tells her.

“Clearly that bar does better for itself than it seems, then,” she replies, looking around at our home. I guess she’s realised we all live here by now. It took us a while to find something and renovate it to our needs, but we all love it. “Anything else?” she asks Atlas.

“Yes, you should be my girl.”

“No, thank you. Are we done?” she finishes, bracing to stand, but Atlas isn’t letting that lie.

“What do you mean, no?”

“Do you need a dictionary definition?” she sasses. The things I’d do to that sassy mouth.

“I want to know why you’re saying no, Madelaine,” he spells out.

She shrugs at him. “Maybe I’m just not that into you.”

“Liar.”

I feel like I’m at a tennis match watching these two go at it, my eyes swinging from left to right as they trade blows.

“Fine, I’m not looking to give anything a go with anyone. I’m quite happy having my wild phase, thank you.”

“Your wild phase?”

“Yeah, you know. That time where you can do whatever you want whenever you want without worrying about another person?”

“Do whatever, or do whoever?” Atlas asks through gritted teeth.

“Both,” she says, not backing down from his gaze even though it must be molten. “Everyone else seems to have had one, and now I want mine.”

“Why haven’t you had it before?” Quince jumps in, always desperate for answers. Atlas is rigid in his seat, but I’m on the edge of mine, loving how open she’s being right now.

“I was in a really long relationship before. I actually meant for you to be my first one-night stand,” she directs at Atlas.

“Sorry to ruin your fun,” he sulks, which makes me chuckle. I can’t tell if he’s mad she’s not dropping to his feet or if he gets off on her pushing back at him.

“What does this wild phase include?” I ask her, my pants in danger of getting too tight as I think of a wild Madelaine.

“I guess it’s time to go with the flow and not overthink my decisions. Be happy with the person I am, see what kind of person I’m attracted to. Basically, to experiment and explore life.” Her eyes dart to all of us, checking our reactions. I’m sure there’d be a blush under that beautiful bronze skin.

“You don’t need to see what kind of person you’re attracted to,” Atlas pipes up, cockiness returning. “I’m the type of person you’re attracted to. Check that off the list.”

“Yeah, but I was attracted to Maxton and Quincy too until I realised they were your henchmen. Maybe I should expand my horizons,” she quips back.

Atlas shifts in his seat while Quince and I give him matching glares.

“You can’t do this experiment with one person?” he asks Madelaine, avoiding looking at us.

“No, that defeats the point. In my last relationship I wasn't me, I was half of a couple,” she explains.

Atlas mulls that over for a second while Quince and I continue to stare daggers into his skull.

“A proposition, then. While you’re staying here, you give this a chance. Trust me, I am more than willing to let you use me to explore your wildest fantasies. When you’re ready to leave for your own place, if you want to move on to greener pastures, then fine,” he offers Madelaine.

She thinks about that for a long minute while we all sit there, watching her. “I’ll think about it,” she finally says, standing this time and going to leave, but Atlas grabs her arm as she walks past him.

“You’ve got until the end of tonight. I don’t enjoy waiting.”

I might want to kill my best friend for getting to her first, but even I have to admit the sexual tension pours off them in waves. He pulls her phone out of his pocket and places it in her hand before letting her go. She says nothing else as she walks off to her bedroom.

“What was that about?” Quince asks as soon as she’s out of earshot. “You didn’t sound like you’d let her move on earlier.”

“Yeah, and like fuck am I going to now. She just needs a push to realise how great this can be. If not, I’ll lock the fucking door.”

“Who said romance was dead,” I mutter.

“I’ll give her romance, if that’s what she wants,” he replies.

“Doesn’t seem like it right now,” I say, quite enjoying her stripping Atlas down so easily.

“Well, I’ll let you know how it goes while you both enjoy the friend zone,” he jokes.

“I can’t believe she admitted finding us attractive and confirmed she wouldn’t go any further because she’s already slept with Atlas, in the same sentence. What a rollercoaster,” Quince sighs, rubbing his hand down his face.

“Surely you’re not disappointed, Quinn? God forbid you fall for the Viper spy,” Atlas adds, taking his chance for a jab at Quince.

“Of course not.”

“How did your grilling go, by the way?” I ask him, registering that he’d gotten hardly any information from Madelaine again.

“Fuck off, both of you,” he mumbles as he leaves the room, tail firmly tucked between his legs.