Chapter 107 I Can Help You
Scarlett glanced at her phone. A message from Ambrose. She typed a blunt reply.
[Nope.]
A few seconds later, his response popped up.
[You can actually sleep? The stuff I gave you didn't make you restless?]
A laugh escaped her. So that was his game. He'd bought her that Royal Honey Elixir, hoping it would keep her up all night. The nerve.
She grinned, tapping out a lie. [It's a nourishing tonic. Made me all sleepy. Going to bed now.]
The chat went silent. Scarlett let out a breath of relief, set her phone down, killed the lights, and drifted off.
The next morning, Scarlett wanted to take the day off to stay with Yara, who was still sick. But a site measurement was on her schedule, an appointment she couldn't move. She had no choice but to leave Yara in Rhea's care, promising to rush back the second she was done.
Hayden, distraught over Yara's illness, refused to go to preschool. Since Yara's sickness was viral, Scarlett had to sternly warn him to keep his distance.
From the dining table, Ambrose chimed in, "Boys aren't that fragile."
Scarlett shot him a look. He'd been wearing a thundercloud expression since he walked out of his room, looking like he hadn't slept a wink. The memory of his text message from last night surfaced. Could it be? Did the elixir actually keep him up all night?
"A child's immune system is weaker than an adult's. It's better to be safe than sorry," she said, her tone firm.
Ambrose's eyes met hers, and for a split second, Scarlett could have sworn she saw a flash of pure, unadulterated resentment.
They left for work together, stepping into an elevator packed with the morning rush. In true alpha-male fashion, Ambrose instinctively created a bubble for her, circling an arm around her shoulders to shield her from the crowd.
He was tall, she was not. He glanced down, she glanced up. Their eyes locked for a beat before Scarlett, her cheeks warming, quickly looked away.
The ridiculously good-looking couple had, of course, become the elevator's main attraction. Scarlett kept her gaze fixed on the floor, hyper-aware of the stares. Ambrose, after that initial glance, looked away too.
The doors slid open, and the crowd spilled out, a river of people rushing to their desks. But two young, trendy women who had been in the elevator practically chased after Ambrose.
"Hi, you live in Lakeside Garden too?" One of them asked, falling into step beside him.
Ambrose gave her a cursory glance, his long strides not slowing in the slightest. "What's the matter?" He asked, his tone flat.
"I just wanted to, you know, get to know you. Maybe we could be friends? Exchange numbers?" The girl was bold, direct.
Ambrose suddenly stopped, casually pulled Scarlett, looked at her with a mysterious expression and said, "My girlfriend doesn't allow me to privately add other women's contact information."
Scarlett's eyes widened in shock. But she recovered in a second, her gaze flicking to the girl, who was now staring at her. A flicker of understanding—and maybe a little envy—crossed the girl's face. She got it.
"Sorry to bother you," she mumbled, disappointed, before scurrying away.
Without a word, Scarlett tugged on the sleeve of Ambrose's suit jacket. "Come on."
As they started walking again, the storm clouds on Ambrose's face finally seemed to part.
At the office, Scarlett gathered her team and headed to the construction site with Dash Foster, the head of the construction crew. Once there, it was all business.
Under the blazing sun, everyone was drenched in sweat. Scarlett meticulously recorded dimensions, calculating the precise center points. Two hours later, the measurement task was finally complete.
On the way back, Scarlett and Dash hitched a ride with Ryder. She sat in the back, reviewing the data on her tablet, while the two men chatted up front.
"Ryder," Dash began, "if you guys land that Serene Bay Peninsula project, which crew are you thinking of using?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. Let's focus on finishing the art museum first," Ryder chuckled.
"We'll get the museum done, and done right. But if Serene Bay Peninsula comes through, you have to give me a shot!" Dash insisted.
"Everyone's eyeing that prize. But the Mitchell family is breathing down its neck, especially with one of their own about to take a major public office. Honestly, I think it's a long shot. We haven't even been able to get a meeting with the man in charge."
Ryder's words cut through Scarlett's concentration. She froze, her stylus hovering over the tablet. The man in charge. She remembered Ryder mentioning it at the bid presentation, asking Ambrose to set up a meeting with Orion.
So they still hadn't managed to meet with him?
"I heard that Mr. Philip is incredibly fair, a real stickler for merit," Dash said. "Otherwise, we wouldn't have even landed the museum."
"You've never heard of the chain of command in politics?" Ryder countered.
The implication was clear: Orion would likely have to bend to the will of the soon-to-be-powerful Mitchell family member.
Scarlett's brow furrowed. It sounded like Ambrose was facing a serious roadblock with the Serene Bay project. But he hadn't said a single word to her, hadn't asked her to pull a single string.
Back at the office, Scarlett organized the data, held a debrief with her team, and then, after a quick lunch, dove straight into another marathon meeting with the construction team and Ambrose.
The agenda was dense: the museum's structural layout, the construction phasing, every minute detail. During a mid-session break, Scarlett found an excuse to slip away to Ambrose's office.
"Are you trying to win the Serene Bay Peninsula project?" She asked, stopping in the guest area of his spacious office.
Ambrose, who was pouring a glass of water, paused. He turned to face her. "Where did you hear that?"
His reaction was all the confirmation she needed. "It doesn't matter where I heard it," she said. "If you want to meet with Orion, I can help you."
He finished pouring the water, handed the cup to her, and then poured one for himself. "Why the sudden desire to help me?"
He leaned back against the credenza, watching her, trying to decipher the look on her face.
Scarlett clutched the paper cup with both hands, her gaze distant for a moment. "You're helping me find my child," she said finally. "Consider it a favor in return."
Ambrose's face remained a blank canvas. He took a slow sip of water, the sound barely audible in the quiet room.
"I thought you were giving me yourself," he said, his voice a low, cool current.
The words hit her like a physical blow. Humiliation, sharp and cold, washed over her. She stared at him, her eyes turning icy.
He'd just laid their transaction bare. As clinical as a business deal. And while a part of her had already accepted that logic—he helps me, I give him what he wants, a debt paid—hearing it spoken so bluntly from his lips made her stomach clench. It was ugly. She shouldn't have meddled.
After a tense silence, she spoke, her voice flat. "Then consider it unsaid. I'll be going now."
She turned to leave, but his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her other wrist. "Are you angry?"
Scarlett looked back at him, her expression completely devoid of emotion. "Why would I be?" She said, her voice dangerously calm. "You're right. I'm trading myself for your help in finding my son. We have no real relationship. In fact, if we're counting favors, your family still owes my father one."
Ambrose registered the sting in her words. A humorless smirk touched his lips. "Scarlett," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?"