Chapter 87 Use Strength to Shut Him Up
Ambrose sat through the entire meeting, listening intently to every proposal. When the discussion wound down, he finally spoke up.
"An art museum should embody artistic excellence. Every city has its own architectural identity—Silverlight City's museum needs to reflect what makes this city unique. That's what will make it stand out."
"That's exactly what I was thinking, Mr. Boleyn." Scarlett jumped in smoothly. "But the real challenge is figuring out which elements to use and how to integrate them. We need the design to showcase both artistic vision and Silverlight City's character."
The conference room fell silent. Then Ewan Hughes, one of the team members, leaned forward. "Ms. Mellon, your previous design had this incredible sense of place—it felt completely natural in Silverlight City's landscape. How did you come up with that concept?"
Ewan's question pulled Scarlett back to the moment that sparked her original vision.
It had been magical, really. The inspiration struck at five in the morning when she'd watched dawn break over the cityscape. A young professional in a suit had been speed-walking down Silverlight Boulevard, briefcase in hand, racing against the clock.
Silverlight City never slept—that frantic energy was just part of daily life here. But maybe that's exactly what made it meaningful. That's when the concept clicked.
After she shared the story, thoughtful silence filled the room. The team began revisiting the museum's core mission, factoring in the city's geography. Ideas started flowing.
"Ms. Mellon's vision is sparking all kinds of possibilities for me," Milo Brooks said. "What if we incorporated the redbud—Silverlight City's official flower? We could even shape the exterior like redbud petals."
"Petal architecture?" Ewan looked skeptical. "Can construction even pull off something that organic?"
All eyes turned to Scarlett. She paused for a few beats before responding. "Let's design it first. Then we can review all the proposals side by side and pick the strongest one."
"Anyone else have ideas?"
Silence.
"Actually, I've got another concept brewing," Scarlett added. "But you'll have to wait two days to see the blueprints."
Ambrose wrapped things up. "So we've got two directions. Get the design drafts completed, then we'll decide based on results."
"Everyone, head back to your desks," Scarlett continued. "If inspiration strikes, sketch it out. We'll reconvene in two days with blueprints and finalize the approach."
Chairs scraped as people stood to leave. Ambrose remained seated, his gaze landing on Scarlett as she rose. "Ms. Mellon. Stay."
The subtext was clear: Everyone else, out.
The team filed out quickly. Once the door clicked shut behind the last person, Ambrose stood and walked toward her.
"How's the job treating you?"
Scarlett watched him approach and threw up a hand like a traffic cop. "Stay right there."
Ambrose froze, his lips quirking up in amusement. "Are you scared of me?"
How could she not be?
That night in his car flashed through her mind—the way he'd done whatever he pleased, zero consideration for location or consequences. She was not about to let something happen at the office.
"This is a workplace," she said primly. "Subordinates being wary of their boss is perfectly normal."
Ambrose took another step forward anyway. She gritted her teeth and changed tactics. "Fine. Yes. I'm scared of you."
That stopped him. He looked at her with barely suppressed laughter. "Scared I'm going to eat you alive?"
Scarlett's expression went ice-cold. "Ambrose. Act professional."
He leaned back against the conference table, one eyebrow raised. "What exactly are you guilty about? When have I been unprofessional?"
Scarlett released a long, heavy breath. When it became clear he had nothing else to say, she gathered her laptop from the table. "If there's nothing else, I'm heading back to work."
"Stop right there. I'm not finished." His voice cut through the air, sharp as a whip.
She froze, defeat written all over her face. "Then talk."
The playfulness vanished from Ambrose's expression. He studied her seriously. "Are you settling in okay? At work?"
"It's fine."
"No one's giving you trouble?"
Scarlett's heart did an uncomfortable little flip. Did he know something? Was that why he was asking?
"Is that a hard question?" Ambrose took a step toward her.
Scarlett hugged her laptop to her chest like a shield, blocking his advance. "My work is outside even the director's jurisdiction. Who could give me trouble?"
Ambrose watched her for a long moment. When she clearly wasn't going to elaborate, he let it drop. "In this company, talent speaks louder than anything else. If someone tries to push you around, let your work shut them up."
Scarlett blinked, genuinely surprised he'd say something like that. Ambrose caught her stunned expression and huffed out a quiet laugh.
"The Boleyn Group values merit. Not connections or office politics."
Back at the Ross Group, she'd landed more projects than anyone—and Bianca had still held her back at every turn. All because Bianca had Wesley wrapped around her finger.
Was Ambrose taking a shot at that? Or was this his way of warning her: [Don't expect our relationship to carry you here. You'll survive on your own skills or not at all.]
She glanced at him with new appreciation. Say what you would about Ambrose, but on this front, he had integrity. It made sense now—how he'd built the Boleyn Group into what it was.
"What's with that look?" Ambrose asked.
Scarlett smoothed her expression back to neutral. "Mr. Boleyn is clearly a man who gets things done."
The flattery didn't land the way she'd hoped. Ambrose moved closer, suspicious. "What are you misunderstanding?"
"You're overthinking it. I agree with your approach—if a company wants to grow, nepotism has to stay out of it. Otherwise, you lose your best people."
Her tone was calm but sincere. Ambrose studied her for another beat, then reached out and flicked her forehead. "All right. Get back to work."
The sting made Scarlett's free hand fly to her forehead. She glared at him, outraged. He completely ignored her death stare, striding past her and out the conference room door.
Scarlett fumed—but once he was gone, she rubbed the sore spot on her forehead and headed for the exit herself.
The second she stepped into the hallway, she spotted Heath blocking Ambrose's path.
"Mr. Boleyn, about this project—how do you want to handle it?"
At Heath's words, his gaze slid toward her. She met his eyes briefly, nodded, then slipped past both men and speed-walked back to her office.
She'd caught the look in Heath's eyes. Complicated. Unreadable. It left her wondering how long he'd been waiting out there—and whether he'd overheard anything.
Then again, even if he had, nothing they'd said was inappropriate. She shrugged it off.
At lunch, Scarlett met up with Cleo at a restaurant near the Boleyn Group offices. They snagged a quiet corner table in the main dining room. From the moment they sat down, Cleo stared at her like she was trying to read her mind.
"Scarlett, you've been absolutely glowing lately." Once their food arrived, Cleo finally voiced what she'd been thinking. She leaned in close and dropped her voice to a whisper. "You have a boyfriend, don't you?"