DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

Atlas has soft and kind eyes, her rosy cheeks moving with each suck of the pink object between her lips. And her brazen gaping at me reminds me of how Emmy never backed down from me or any of the boys.

She’s absolutely beautiful.

Atlas suddenly makes a slight grunting noise which makes her brows furrow before she relaxes.

“Yeah, I know, kid,” I mutter to her, then release a harsh sigh. “I fucked up.”

More suction on the plastic piece in her mouth as she expectedly ogles me for—I don’t know—more of an apology?

Another thing that her mother would do.

“I hope you’re like her,” I add on. “Give all those boys shit. Maybe hand your father an early heart attack.” I flick my eyes to Mills, still talking to Reagan, but his attention is already glued on me before breaking away.

He knows I’m not going to hurt these kids.

He’s aware that no matter what Emmy did, I’m screwed. The older I get, the softer I’m becoming.

That I’m not as extra as I used to be when I had tons of built-up anger and stress from almost a decade ago.

And how can I fight a woman who isn’t here? Who left her children behind and named one of them after me?

Every time I hear the other damn kid’s name, I’m going to remember it. I’m going to wonder why the hell she did it in the first place and if she ever loved me. The constant and exhausting questions that will circulate in my brain until I die.

Atlas moves her tiny hands, and I mindlessly stick my index finger between her little digits, feeling the softest skin I’ve ever felt in my life. She wraps them around me in a small death grip, and I swear to God everything in me stills.

A calmness begins to wash over me as she regards me some more. A little bundle of Emmy in my arms and it’s the only way I’m going to be able to be with her.

My heart swells and—I can’t do this.

I can’t stand to look at Mills. I’ll never forgive Emmy for what she did. It’s too much, and I can’t tell her express everything I want to bitch at her about.

“I need your help.” I lift my chin to find my newest enemy outside an arms’ length of me.

A safe spot.

His good hand shoved into his black slacks—the fucking preppy ass—and he stares at me like I didn’t just shoot him the other day.

“And you’re going to assist me.”

I do what Atlas is continuing to do to me right now, and I consider him like he’s a stranger.

Because he is now.

I don’t know this man that stands in front of me because the one I thought I was privy to was just one of her close friends. Someone who she had boys' nights with. Pizza, beer, and Netflix. But what do they call that shit…Netflix and chill?

Code for fucking.

Yeah, that went way over my head, and I’m the only one on B723 that has made a major deal about this. I guess the cat’s out of the bag with how much and in what capacity I cared about the little blonde.

“Alexander filed a case to get custody of the kids,” Mills continues. “He wants another DNA, and it’s coming up quick.”

I blink, waiting for him to tell me why he believes or deserves my assistance. Also, why would I?

“Are you listening?” He shifts his weight because this is hard. He’s a single dad with two babies instead of one and no partner to help out. If only Emmy were still alive, he would’ve never had to do this.

Maybe.

Did he know prior?

“When were you aware Emmy was pregnant?” Mills scrunches up his face at my change of subject but doesn’t pussy out with dodging it.

“I was with her when she took the pregnancy test.”

Even with Atlas in my arms, my hands ball into fists and she’s the only reason why I don’t fuck him up right this second.

Not only because he screwed Ems but because he says it so damn calmly.

“Did she tell him?”

Mills shakes his head. “No.” I scoff. I’m done with this conversation. “She didn’t know they were mine.” He shifts and averts his gaze from mine. “I didn’t know until she was dead. She told Lucien before…she told him to check the paternity.”

“How many times did you guys fuck?” My stomach recoils at the question, and Atlas squeezes my finger again.

I’m torn between putting her back in her little bassinet thing while the other half—the one who still wants to be connected to Emmy in some fucked up way—wants to keep her here.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps through a scowl. “I’m not talking about this.”

“They’re yours, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but—“

“Then why does he want them?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’re not his,” I repeat.

Mills lifts his shoulders. “He’s a CEO, maybe his family is pressuring him. Maybe he has self-esteem issues. Maybe he has a small dick and has to make it up somewhere. Regardless, I need to make sure nothing happens. That they remain here. With us.”

I slowly shake my head because this isn’t my problem.

Now that I’m holding Atlas, I’m teeter-tottering on the idea of still offing Mills. Do I wanna be that guy who kills her only parent off? And then what, where do they go?

“Have the boys help you,” I assert because I can’t be here for them.

I’m not a good role model.

I’m not going to be able to look at their father and not want to throttle him.

I’ll forever have to deal with being pissed at Emmy and still being in love with their mother.

I’m not built for this kind of pain where two living human beings that should’ve been mine, aren’t.

“Cool—“ Mills takes advantage of my lack of movement with his daughter in my arms and erases two steps between us. “—you’re a boy. Help me.”

“I’m not—“ He practically rushes me. Those GQ features of his hardening on my rugged ones as he seeks to intimidate me with how