"What the hell is your problem?" Meredith snapped at him.
Aggravation lit in Atlas chest, but he kept his voice indifferent.
"You."
Her lips parted and she tilted her head. "Me?"
"Yes. You. The fact that you're at drunk at a club wearing a dress that barely covers your bottom and flirting with a guy who probably has STIs is my problem. You're drunk and have no idea what you're even doing."
Atlas scolded in a deadly tone.
"I know exactly what I'm doing Mr. Martini." She stared up at him, her frustration bubbled on her face.
Atlas watched her face flushed with anger and pleasure pulsed in his veins.
How can someone look so drunk, angry and hot at the same time? This woman had him captivated without her even trying.
"I'm not a kid. You're not my father, brother, boyfriend or even a friend to tell me what to do. You're just my boss who happened to kiss me. And a kiss doesn't mean anything. So don't come at me acting all possessive like you fucking own me because you don't!"
