Stealing the Heart of Mr. Steele
Chapter 134

[Atlas]

Fueled by the need to replace her, to tell her how wrong I was, I race out of the building and onto the street. I don't have anything on me but the clothes on my back and my phone tucked away in a pocket.

With my rumpled jacket and hair, I could be anyone on the street. Nobody would mistake me for being myself. I wasn't billionaire Atlas Steele, I was just an ordinary guy desperately looking for his pregnant wife on the streets of LA.

"Damn it, Cordelia," I curse as I feel the wind pick up and remember that she left the house without a coat. "Where the hell did you go?"

"Hola senor," A sweet woman pulling in her laundry calls from her balcony. "You lost?"

"Un poquito," I hold up my fingers to express that I am a little bit turned around. "I am looking for my wife. I think she came this way. Very pretty, very pregnant."

I make a round gesture over my belly and she laughs playfully, amused by my poor attempts at pantomime.

"La bonita prenada mujer," she nods. "I see her, senor." She points in the direction of the nearby neighborhood center lined with small businesses and family restaurants and explains that she saw her speaking with a kind old man. Smiling my thanks I head off in the direction she indicated, thanking my lucky stars for the kindness of strangers.

LA often gets a bad rap for being an unfriendly, artificial place. But if you know where to look, you can replace the kindest, most genuine people.

Just as I turn the corner the rain starts to fall. It is gentle at first and feels refreshing on my fevered skin. I hope that she has taken shelter, even if that does make my search a bit more difficult.

There are dozens of shops and restaurants in this square. I immediately eliminate half of them, but that still leaves dozens of possibilities.

What does Cordelia like to do when she is upset?

After spending a couple of hours looking through every bookstore, coffee shop, frozen yogurt, and shoe store, I realized that I have no idea what she might like to do when she is upset. I tend to be the reason why, and she tends to storm away from me. What she does after that is a mystery.

As I'm thinking this, I hear a familiar voice. It takes me a few minutes, but I see her standing across the way, speaking with an older gentleman who looks a little too dashing and far too predatory to be harmless. My face grows red with old jealous rage. Was she on some kind of date, with this old man?

Is that why she left in such a hurry? To meet him?

Looking at Cordelia's face I see a bit of trepidation.

I should have never doubted her. Whatever is happening between them it is not a romantic tryst. She looks a bit frightened of him.

The light changes and she enters

the crosswalk. I wait on the other side, ready for when she looks up and sees me. She's either going to smile or she's going to run away, I'm prepared either way. I'm not letting her disappear again. I don't care if she screams at me. I welcome it. At least then she'll be speaking to me.

But then the light changes again and Cordelia is still not on the other side. Something made her pause about midway. She is holding her fingers over her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise.

I watch in terror as a taxi heads towards her without intending to stop. They swerve around her last minute, screaming at her as they pass. I hear her apologize uselessly to the reckless driver who hardly gives her a second glance.

She attempts to shuffle across the

street, but with her confusion, it is hard for her to pick a direction with all the fast-moving cars not caring if a person is in the road or not. They all need to get to their destinations as fast as possible, not paying much mind to a crosswalk that should be empty.

A red truck comes to a sudden stop and a small blue car tries to swerve around it.

"CORDELIA!!!" I scream, rushing out into the road. I hold my hands up, stretching myself to my full height, stopping traffic long enough to scoop my wife off the cement and carry her to the other side.

"Atlas," she's out of breath but grateful as she holds onto my chest. "How did you get here?"

"Don't worry about that right now," I hold her closer. "What were you doing in the middle of the road."

"Crossing it," she grumbles as she turns her head to the side, not meeting my gaze. "That is until you came and..."

"Saved your life," I say louder than I intend. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Put me down, Atlas Steele," she struggles in my arms and I set her down. She pulls down her dress adjusting her appearance as she glares. "I didn't ask you to save me!" She screams in my face, which is growing red with frustration and anger. "I believe I told you not to follow me."

She turns to walk away from me. I grab her hand and pull her around to face me.

"Cordelia Steele, I..."

She slaps me.

"I'm not a Steele anymore, remember?!" she's crying in her anger. "We got a divorce because you didn't care enough about me then and you don't care about me now." She continues to rage, her chest heaving with the force of her anger. "Shouldn't you be off saving Angelica from her bad behavior or bailing Sydney out of jail so she can come back and torture me?"

Her eyes are wild. "Cordelia, stop, you'll hurt yourself."

"More than you have?" She weeps. "I don't think that's possible. Now stop following me." She pulls her arm out of my grasp and walks away.