Chapter 124 Taking the Initiative to Deliver
Back then, a couple of things had been going on. First, we were in the middle of a cold war. Second, I didn't want to rely on Ambrose for everything. Once dependence took root, it became a terrifying thing.
But of course, I couldn't just say that out loud.
My eyes, wide and beautiful, met his. My lips parted as I said softly, "I did solve it in the end."
Ambrose let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Getting Finnian to solve it counts as solving it, I guess. You didn't even bother to mention it to me."
His words were laced with a bitter mix of resentment and sarcasm.
I tilted my head back, looking up at him, wavering between explaining and staying silent.
When no explanation came, his face hardened. He swatted my hand away from his cheek and turned to stalk into the room, his proud, straight back radiating a sense of lonely dejection.
I rubbed my forehead. How could a grown man get so hung up on such a small thing?
But then I thought about everything he'd done for me behind the scenes, and with a surge of patience, I followed him into the bedroom.
Ambrose tossed his jacket carelessly onto a sofa chair and strode toward the closet. Just as he opened it, I moved to his side, pulling out the silk robe he usually wore and offering it to him.
He glanced at me but didn't take it. Instead, he reached for a different set on a hanger and turned toward the bathroom.
I hadn't expected him to be this petty when he was mad. With a sigh of resignation, I followed him and stopped at the bathroom door to explain.
"We were in a difficult situation back then, and I didn't feel right asking you. Besides, I knew Finnian was an expert with all things tech, so I just went to him."
Silence. No response came from inside. I figured I should just let him cool off, and we could talk later. I turned to leave. But I'd only taken a few steps when Ambrose's voice echoed from the bathroom.
"Bring me the robe you were just holding."
I froze mid-stride, took a deep, fortifying breath, and walked back to the closet. I grabbed the robe and returned to the bathroom door.
"Didn't you just take clothes in there with you?" I called out, standing by the entrance.
The words had barely left my mouth when the door cracked open. A strong, damp arm snaked out. As he grabbed the robe, his fingers locked around my wrist, and with a single, sharp tug, he yanked me inside.
I was completely unprepared for the move. By the time I realized what was happening, I was already in the bathroom, staring at a dripping-wet Ambrose. I quickly thrust the robe between us like a shield.
"Here are your clothes."
He didn't take it. His narrow eyes glowed with an almost predatory green light. In the steamy, fog-filled room, he looked like a starving wolf in a deep forest, staring down its prey. It was dangerous.
"Do you two talk often?" He asked.
I could read the look in his eyes perfectly. After a two-second pause, I admitted, "Occasionally."
"You should get dressed. I'm going to head out."
But Ambrose didn't let go. His gaze remained fixed on me as he pressed on, "So, from now on, if we're fighting, you're just not going to tell me when you have a problem? You'll just go ask him for help instead?"
I was exasperated. "That depends on what the problem is."
Ambrose's expression soured. "I don't want this to happen again. Whatever it is, you have to tell me first."
His gaze was so dark and intense, it felt like he'd bite me if I didn't agree. Given the situation, I gave a stiff, wooden nod.
"I'm leaving now," I said.
His expression softened slightly, but his grip didn't loosen. He pulled me closer. "You were on the phone with Finnian just now, weren't you? What were you talking about so late?"
I met his gaze coolly, waiting a long moment before answering, "Just chatting."
Hearing that, Ambrose's tongue swept irritably over the inside of his cheek. "You like talking to him that much?"
"It's fine." My expression remained placid. Ambrose stared at me, and then his eyes suddenly dropped, a mournful look clouding his features.
"You hate me, don't you?"
"When have I ever said I hated you?"
"Because you've never just called me to chat."
I felt like I was going to lose my mind if this conversation continued. "Why don't you finish your shower?" I said, trying to de-escalate. "We can talk after."
He flung my hand away, muttering with a bitter, theatrical air, "You hate me so much you can't wait to get away. Go on, then! Go call the person you actually like talking to. Go!"
I fell silent.
I had never seen this pouting, petulant side of Ambrose. He turned his back to me, stood under the shower spray, and washed himself as if he'd suffered some great injustice.
I sighed, placed the robe on a nearby rack, opened the bathroom door, and walked out.
Ambrose, who had clearly expected me to stay and join him, frowned as he heard the door close. She really left.
After she was gone, he lost all interest in showering. He was out of the bathroom minutes later, toweling his hair dry while his eyes scanned the bed. Empty.
Wasn't she even going to try to placate him?
Ambrose glared at the closed bedroom door, his frustration mounting. He yanked it open and walked out, pretending he was going to check on Hayden. He found Hayden's room empty, which meant the boy was sleeping in Scarlett's room.
His face darkened. He stormed out of Hayden's room and back into his own, throwing himself onto the bed to stew in his anger.
Suddenly, a soft knock came at the door. He got up, strode over, and pulled it open. Scarlett was standing there. He was still wearing his scowl, ready to ask what she wanted, when her arms wrapped around his neck. She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him.
This was the first time Scarlett had ever initiated anything. For a split second, Ambrose was dazed, but the very real sensation of her body against his snapped him back to reality. He swiftly swept her into the room, pressing her against the wall and claiming her mouth in a punishing kiss.
Soon, a single kiss wasn't enough. He peeled away her silk pajamas, and the movement revealed black lace lingerie underneath, a stark contrast that made her skin look even more delicate and pale.
Wearing something like this, this late at night… Ambrose understood immediately. This was for him. A jolt of surprise and delight shot through him. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.
"I like this set."
Her eyes were hazy with desire. She bit her lip, then released it, her voice a soft murmur. "Are you still mad?"
At that moment, all his anger evaporated. A wicked grin spread across his face as he nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low, seductive drawl. "Seeing as you're showing such sincerity, I'll let it slide this time. But from now on, if anything happens, you tell me first."
"Ambrose, you're the most thin-skinned man I've ever met," Scarlett gasped, a playful reproach in her tone.
He didn't deny it. One hand fumbled with the clasp of her bra while his head dipped lower. "When it comes to you, my skin is thinner than a needle point."
His nibbling sent fire through her veins. She arched her neck, letting out a soft cry.
"Don't…"
Ambrose was lost in the beautiful landscape of her body, but he didn't forget to lift her and carry her toward the large bed. He laid her down, his body pressing over hers.
Scarlett's arms looped around his neck as she tilted her head to kiss the sharp line of his throat. The touch nearly sent him over the edge, but he still managed to get the words out. "And from now on, you'll talk to Finnian less."
"Ambrose, we agreed not to interfere in each other's lives."
He considered using his old methods of tormenting her into submission, but decided against it, switching tactics instead.
He waited until she had melted into a pliant puddle beneath him. Then his body sank lower, sinking into her. As they both found their perfect, comfortable rhythm, they began to move as one.