Chapter 114 Catching Adultery
Tonight, I was genuinely happy. But seeing Ambrose's name flash on my phone screen, my mood plummeted back to the miserable state I'd been in earlier.
After a moment of deliberation, I declined the call.
I refused to let him ruin my night. Switching my phone to silent, I tucked it away and turned back to my friends.
A few minutes later, Finnian returned to our booth, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"Finnian, did you have a romantic encounter in the men's room? You look way too pleased with yourself," Briar teased, her eyes sharp.
Finnian let out a hearty laugh. "No romance, but I did run into a ghost from the past. Just taught a loudmouthed woman a lesson, and I'm feeling pretty damn good about it."
He punctuated the statement by coolly picking up his glass and raising it in a toast. "To good times."
We all raised our glasses, the cheerful clinking sound echoing as we drank.
What had actually happened was Finnian had cornered the shrieking Delta, backing her against a wall. He'd slammed his fist into the wall right beside her head—he'd never actually hit her, but the explosive sound made her scream and tremble in fear.
When he finally let her go, she'd fumbled for her phone, probably to call for backup to teach him a lesson, only to find it wouldn't turn on. In the end, she had no choice but to storm off, grinding her teeth in frustration.
But while she was ready to let it go, Finnian wasn't. He'd leaned in, his voice a low threat. "If I ever hear you talking trash about her again, I'll find you. And next time, I won't miss."
That's why he was in such a great mood.
Meanwhile, Ambrose couldn't get through to my phone. Since he happened to be nearby, he dragged Ruben along and headed straight for the bar.
Ruben, clueless as to their destination, grumbled the whole way. "Ambrose, you're hitting a bar this late? Aren't you worried Ms. Mellon will find out?"
"I'm going to find her," Ambrose clipped out.
The words landed, and a lightbulb went off in Ruben's head. Scarlett wasat the bar. Could she be on a date with another guy? Was Ambrose going to catch her in the act?
A thrill shot through Ruben—he lived for this kind of drama. But then he remembered it was Scarlett, and a pang of concern hit him. Ambrose was head-over-heels for her. This could get ugly.
"Ambrose," Ruben began tentatively, "I heard you went on a blind date today?" He was trying to subtly remind Ambrose that he'd been out with another woman too, so he shouldn't be so quick to judge.
But Ambrose's reply was a cold, flat, "No."
Ruben turned to stare at him. "What? But my mom told me you did. She spent an hour chewing me out, threatening to set up a bunch of dates for me, too. It was a nightmare."
Ambrose's head snapped toward him. "Where did your mother hear that?"
Ruben shrugged. "I have no idea. You know how she is, always plugged into the high-society gossip network. She gets news flashes faster than CNN."
Ambrose fell silent. Ruben continued his chatter, the sound grating on Ambrose's already frayed nerves. Finally, Ambrose cut him off. "Let me ask you something. If you say the wrong thing to someone, how do you fix it?"
Ruben's eyes widened as if he'd just discovered a new species. "You said the wrong thing? To Ms. Mellon? Is she pissed at you?"
The silence was Ambrose's answer.
Knowing Ambrose's pride was a fragile thing, Ruben didn't push for a confession. Instead, he mused aloud, "You apologize. Buy her flowers and apologize. Or, plan a surprise dinner and apologize then."
Ambrose was quiet again, clearly weighing the options.
Just then, the car pulled up to the Midnight Oasis Bar. They got out, Ambrose striding forward with such speed that Ruben had to jog to keep up.
The moment they stepped inside, Ambrose scanned the room, using the photo as a reference. It only took him a few seconds to spot me. And when he did, he saw me leaning in close to Finnian, our heads nearly touching as we talked.
Ruben, standing beside him, felt a sudden, glacial chill radiate from the man next to him. He risked a glance at Ambrose's face. It was a thundercloud, darker than the shadowy corners of the bar.
"Ambrose, hey, it's loud in here," Ruben said quickly, trying to run interference. "You have to get close to hear anything. It's totally normal. Don't do anything crazy, or you'll just make Ms. Mellon even angrier."
Ambrose's gaze remained locked on us. "So I'm just supposed to stand here and watch this?" he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Of course not. Here's the plan: we find a spot, sit down, and just observe. If it's just two friends talking, no harm, no foul."
But before Ruben could finish, Ambrose was already moving, heading for the booth directly adjacent to ours. Ruben scrambled to follow.
Our neighboring booth was occupied, but that was a problem Ruben was born to solve. He approached the table with a charming smile. "I have a proposition. How about I cover your entire tab for the night, plus five times what you've already spent, and have the staff find you an even better table? What do you say?"
The group, hearing "free drinks" and "extra cash," practically tripped over themselves to agree.
In no time, the table was cleared, and the two of them sat down.
Ambrose's eyes never left my face. I was laughing, a free, genuine joy that lit me up from the inside out.
He had never seen me look like this. So completely, utterly happy.
Was it because of the man next to her?
His gaze shifted to Finnian. The casual glance hardened into a glare. It was the same guy who'd helped her with the online video scandal.
Chase's investigation had turned up his name: Finnian, a master hacker and, like me, an alum of Celestial University.
They met so soon.
The thought soured in his stomach. Ambrose pulled out his phone and tried calling me again. He watched, but I didn't even glance at my purse. It was clear my phone held no power over me tonight.
He took a long swallow of his drink, his eyes still fixed on me.
Beside him, Ruben watched Ambrose's tormented expression with a secret, gleeful thrill.
He'd never seen Ambrose like this. Ambrose was well and truly hooked. He glanced over at our table. I was still radiant, completely absorbed in my conversation, oblivious to the storm brewing just a few feet away.
As Ambrose threw back drink after drink, I finally stood up. It looked like I was heading to the restroom. The glass in Ambrose's hand hit the table with a thud, and he was on his feet, following me in a flash.
Ruben shook his head, calling after him in a desperate whisper, "Ambrose, apologize first!"
I used the restroom, and after washing my hands, I headed back out. As I rounded the corner of the hallway, a hand shot out from the shadows, clamping around my wrist and yanking me into the alcove.
"Who the hell are you? Let go, or I'll scream!" I struggled, assuming it was some drunk creep.
But after a second of resistance, a voice, tight with fury, bit out, "Having fun?"
The voice was painfully familiar. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and sure enough, it was Ambrose.
I stared at him, my face a blank mask. "What are you doing here?"
His body pressed against mine, pinning me to the wall. "You're here," he said, his tone dripping with acid. "Why can't I be?"
A cold smirk touched my lips. "Anyone can be here. Now let go of me."
Ambrose lowered his head, his breath hot against my neck as he asked, his voice a low, menacing growl, "You looked like you were having a great time. Who's the guy? The one making you laugh so hard?"
I tried to lean my head back, but the wall blocked my escape. He was too close. I pushed against his chest. "Get off of me."