Chapter 38 You Want to Sleep with Her
Ruben frowned. "Mr. Boleyn, what's going on with you?"
"Blacklisting her isn't enough—you want her gone from Silverlight City entirely?"
Ambrose's voice dripped with sarcasm. "With that brain of yours, how did you even get into the police academy?"
The insult jolted Ruben's neurons into alignment. He smacked the steering wheel, eyes widening. "Wait—is the blacklisting just a smokescreen? You actually want to sleep with her?"
There was this thing guys did, right? When they were with a woman, they'd mess with her first, get her attention, then reel her in.
Ambrose's tone was bone-dry. "You shouldn't be a cop. You should write soap operas."
The expected verbal smackdown never came. Ruben took that as confirmation, practically howling with delight at his discovery.
"Ambrose, I honestly thought you weren't into women. Guess I was wrong."
"I was actually thinking about asking Scarlett out myself—"
"She's married." Ambrose's emotionless voice cut through Ruben's rambling.
Ruben's words died in his throat. "She's... married?"
"And you still... I mean, dude, since when do you go after married women?"
"Know how villains die in movies?"
Ruben instantly shut up.
"They talk too much," Ambrose finished.
"Noted. I'll keep my mouth shut," Ruben muttered.
Ambrose then asked about the case details. When Brielle's name came up, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds of silence, he left clear instructions.
"Keep me updated on any developments. When dealing with her, handle it fairly."
Ruben let out a low whistle. "Ambrose, I just figured out why you like her. You two are cut from the same cloth. When I tried being nice to her earlier, she was more righteous than me—and I'm the cop. She straight-up refused my help."
Ambrose's voice sharpened. "You hit on her?"
"That's your takeaway from all this?"
After trading a few more quips, Ruben finally got hung up on. Ambrose sat back in his chair, lost in thought for a moment, then dialed Chase.
"Look into Owen's adopted daughter, Brielle. I want to know where she's been these past years and why she's back in Silverlight City."
At the hospital, Scarlett's X-rays showed minor bruising on her chest. She'd need treatment and observation, so she was admitted.
Ruben had followed them over and immediately called Brielle to come pay the fees. When Brielle arrived and saw Scarlett sitting up in the hospital bed, fury blazed in her eyes.
"You're getting revenge on me by faking an injury? Really?"
Scarlett's gaze was ice-cold. "The hospital reports are right here. Feel free to examine them yourself."
"This is all because my mom took a little money, isn't it? You're holding a grudge and getting payback."
"I do hate you and your mother. But using this method for revenge?" Scarlett's lips curved into a humorless smile. "That would be beneath me. Also, you're the one who hit me."
Brielle sputtered, unable to form a coherent response. She glared daggers instead.
"Being hospitalized has cost me plenty—work, picking up my kid, you name it. I'll be collecting for all those losses. The amount won't be small. Can you afford it? If not, you'd better start scraping together the money."
Brielle's finger shook as she pointed at Scarlett. "In your dreams! I'm not paying you a single cent!"
"Then I'll see you in court."
Scarlett's voice was dismissive. "Now get out. I need to rest."
Brielle had no intention of leaving. But then the door swung open, and Ruben walked in wearing his uniform.
One look at him, and Brielle deflated. She shot Scarlett one last resentful glare before storming toward the door.
After Brielle left, Scarlett turned to Ruben. "Thanks for running around handling everything. I won't take up any more of your time. If anything comes up, I'll give you a call."
Ever since learning about Ambrose's interest in her, Ruben's entire attitude had shifted. He flashed an easy smile.
"You're not taking up my time at all."
Scarlett fell silent.
---
Seven p.m., Four Seasons Hotel. Ambrose strode into the private dining room in a tailored black suit that made him look both devastatingly handsome and dangerously cold.
Wesley, who'd been waiting, immediately stood. "Mr. Boleyn."
Ambrose's gaze swept over him before he settled into the seat across from Wesley with casual authority. He got straight to the point.
"You know why I asked you here."
Wesley wasn't entirely sure of Ambrose's true intentions. He chose his words carefully.
"Forgive me, but I'd appreciate it if you'd spell it out, Mr. Boleyn."
Ambrose let out a cold laugh. "You're married to Scarlett, yet secretly involved with Delta. Delta's being played as the other woman. Impressive juggling act you've got there."
Wesley's face went white. He shot to his feet. "Mr. Boleyn, I'm in the process of divorcing Scarlett. I absolutely never meant to deceive Delta."
Ambrose's left hand absently turned the ring on his right hand, his tone almost bored. "So you've told Delta you're married?"
He stopped fidgeting with the ring and pulled out a cigarette case, tapping one out and lighting it.
White smoke curled between them. Through the haze, Wesley tried to read Ambrose's expression but couldn't make out his face clearly. His heart hammered as he failed to form an answer.
Because the truth was, he had deceived Delta from the start. He still hadn't told her. What could he possibly say?
He tried to puzzle out Ambrose's angle. Was Scarlett behind this meeting? Or was Ambrose simply standing up for Delta?
After a moment's deliberation, he ventured a cautious question.
"Mr. Boleyn, I know I shouldn't have kept this from her. What would you like me to do?"
Ambrose's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Mr. Ross, you're a smart man. We both know your reasons for hiding the truth. I can keep Delta in the dark—but only if you finalize that divorce. Fast."
Wesley's nerves were shot, but suspicion crept in stronger than fear.
On the surface, this was about protecting Delta. But what if it was really about Scarlett?
These wealthy types were masters of misdirection. He tested the waters.
"I'm already filing for divorce. Hasn't Scarlett mentioned it?"
Ambrose exhaled a stream of smoke, his thin lips twisting into a contemptuous smirk.
"That's a pathetically obvious fishing expedition. Let me make something clear: whatever my opinion of Scarlett might be, you have no right to ask. After all, you made your choice a long time ago."
Wesley had no comeback to that accusation.
He was right. Choosing Delta meant abandoning Scarlett. Whatever happened to Scarlett after that was none of his business.
Yet somehow, his chest felt hollow. Uncomfortable.
Ambrose studied him with narrowed eyes, reading every flicker of emotion on his face. Those dark eyes glinted with danger.
"Mr. Ross, are you having regrets?"
Wesley lifted his gaze to meet Ambrose's stare, his voice lacking conviction. "I don't do regrets about the decisions I make."
Ambrose leaned forward. The cigarette in his hand tapped against the ashtray on the coffee table, ash tumbling down as his cold voice cut through the air.
"Remember those words."
His eyes locked onto Wesley's. "And one more thing. If anyone in your family gives Scarlett trouble again, don't expect me to play nice."
Finally, Wesley understood. This was the real reason Ambrose had summoned him tonight. Everything before had been a test, drawing out Wesley's position before revealing his true purpose.
This was all about Scarlett.
But when had Ambrose developed feelings for her?