Chapter 119 Anxious and Disorganized
Before I broke the ice with Ambrose, I'd pegged him as the ascetic type—all discipline and self-control. It wasn't until we slept together that I realized how completely his stoic exterior had fooled me.
The man had an appetite. A strong one.
I didn't answer him, just tried to step past him. But his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. The pull forced me to turn, and my eyes met his, which were smoldering with an unmistakable, unsatisfied hunger.
"Let go," I said, my voice tight.
He was silent for a few seconds, then his tone dropped, laced with an almost painful vulnerability. "Still no answer for me?"
Honestly, I'd already made up my mind. But a part of me, the petty part, wanted to make him sweat a little. "I need to think about it."
Ambrose's tongue swept over his teeth in a flash of frustration, but he conceded. "Give me a timeline. Tomorrow?"
I ignored the question and countered with one of my own. "Why are you in such a hurry?"
He nodded, completely shameless. "I am. Desperately."
"Mommy!" A bright, clear voice cut through the tension. It was Yara, coming to find me.
"Ambrose, you're back!" She chirped, her eyes sparkling as she trotted over to us, pure joy radiating from her small frame.
The moment she approached, I subtly pulled my wrist free from his grasp. Ambrose, caught, had no choice but to shift his attention to Yara.
"I am," he replied, his voice softening for her.
Yara immediately launched into a series of questions about Hayden. As Ambrose patiently answered her, I seized my chance, melting away from the scene. I saw him notice my escape, but with Yara there, he couldn't exactly chase me down for an answer.
It was the weekend, a welcome break for both of us. After spending all of yesterday out, my plan for today was simple: curl up at home and recharge.
After breakfast, I played with Yara for a while before retreating to the study to handle a few things.
First, I tried calling Briar to check on her after last night, but it went straight to voicemail. She was probably still asleep, I figured, so I shot her a quick text instead.
With that done, I turned to my actual work.
Around ten, my phone buzzed. Wesley's name flashed on the screen. I stared at it for two long beats before finally accepting the call.
"I know you'll never forgive me for what I did," he started, his voice a rushed, clipped monotone. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. But can you give me a chance? Just drop the charges, and I'll officially acknowledge Yara."
"Not a chance," I shot back, the refusal instinctive and immediate.
"You knew what the Ross Group was facing back then!" His voice grew shrill, like a cornered animal. "I had no other choice! We wouldn't have the Ross Group today otherwise. Besides, you didn't even want to have the baby in the first place. You weren't exactly thrilled about his existence, so why are you acting like the perfect, loving mother now?"
His words struck a nerve, and a familiar pang of guilt twisted in my gut. But I didn't back down. "You're right, I didn't want to have a child then. But I did have him. And now that he's here, I won't let him be used as a pawn and then just disappear."
"You just want revenge," he spat. "But as long as I claim the child is mine, you can't touch me legally. Your only move would be to announce he's not my son, and let your precious daughter become a public laughingstock."
His threat barely registered. "Wesley," I said, my voice dangerously calm, "I swear, I will make you pay for this."
Then I hung up.
He was out of custody. Somehow, the bastard had managed to get out. I dropped my phone and pressed my forehead into my hands, a wave of nausea and frustration washing over me.
When Ambrose entered the study, he found me slumped over the desk. His brow furrowed as he walked straight over.
"What's wrong?"
I scrubbed my hands over my face and looked up. Seeing him, I asked weakly, "You're still here?"
"Yes. What happened?" He pressed, his gaze intense.
I looked right back at him. "Wesley's out of custody."
Understanding dawned on his face. He knew immediately. "He called you. What did he say?"
I paused, gathering my thoughts. "He wants me to let him off the hook. In exchange, he's willing to publicly claim Yara as his daughter." I took a breath. "I refused."
"But I'm worried," I admitted. "If he insists he's the father, I'm scared the law won't be able to touch him."
"Even if he admits he's Yara's father, it won't matter," Ambrose reassured me. "Felix confirmed it. Even a biological parent selling their child is a serious crime." He paused, considering. "Though, if he did acknowledge her, it would technically be beneficial for Yara's legal standing."
My face hardened. "My daughter doesn't need his acknowledgment. A man like that doesn't deserve to be a father."
Seeing my resolve, Ambrose didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he said, "I know what you're thinking. If you don't want to, then you don't have to. Leave everything to me. He will soon lose everything and spend the rest of his life in prison."
I stared at him, and for the first time since that phone call, a profound sense of security settled over me.
"What's the status on the baby?" I asked, needing to know.
"I've put more people on it, expedited everything," Ambrose replied immediately. "The second I have news, you'll be the first to know."
Hearing that, I reached out and took his hand. "Ambrose, thank you."
That "thank you," combined with the fact that I'd initiated the touch, made his brow crease in alarm. "I'm not doing any of this to make you feel indebted to me," he said quickly.
I watched his tense reaction, and a small, soft laugh escaped me. "You're acting like a scared little bird."
"Well, can you blame me?" He shot back, a hint of his earlier desperation returning.
I stood up, closed the distance between us, and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face into the solid wall of his chest. It was a complete surrender.
"Sometimes I get insecure," I murmured against his shirt. "I hear certain things, and my mind just goes there. If that made you feel uncomfortable, I'm sorry."
He instinctively wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight as if he'd earned the right. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. It was my oversight. From now on, if I say anything that makes you feel bad, you have to tell me immediately. I can't handle being frozen out like that again."
I answered him with a quiet laugh, then tilted my head back to look up at him, my voice turning playful as I finally gave him the answer he wanted.
"I accept your terms," I said softly. "But I have some conditions of my own. First, you can never force me to do anything I don't want to do. And second, if you ever want to end this… this relationship… you have to tell me. Clearly. I won't be kept in the dark."
The moment the words left my mouth, he pulled me out of his embrace just enough to look me in the eye, his jaw tight. "Then you might have to wait until your hair turns gray."
His gaze dropped to my lips. "So… can I kiss you now?" He asked, his voice laced with that same careful, almost timid hope.
A smile bloomed on my face. Without a word, I looped my arms around his neck and leaned in, pressing my lips to his.
The instant our lips met, it was like a dam breaking. Ambrose kissed me like a man who'd been starving for a decade, his arms crushing me against him. The kiss quickly deepened, turning raw and messy. He hadn't been with anyone in a while, and his urgency was clumsy, desperate. I worried he was about to lose control right here in the study.
"The door's not locked," I managed to gasp, breaking away for a second. "If one of the kids walks in…"
He didn't hesitate. Scooping me up, he carried me to the door, flipped the lock with a decisive click, and then resumed his passionate assault, finally free to let go. We were a tangle of limbs and frantic kisses, clothes already becoming a nuisance, when a sharp knock echoed from the other side of the door.
"Mommy? Hayden's back! He brought a bunch of stuff and says it's for you to eat!"