Chapter 71 I Have Thorns, You Must Avoid
Ambrose wanted to—God, did he want to—but this wasn't the time. Not after last night. Scarlett's body had already been through enough.
Suppressing the urge pulsing through his veins, he said, "Let me take you home."
Scarlett turned to grab her purse from the nightstand and followed him out of the room.
They had barely made it into the hallway when his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and answered.
"Mr. Boleyn, we've got a situation." Chase's voice came through tight. "Reporters are swarming the main entrance of Celestial Waters Hotel. You can't go out the front. Head straight down to the underground garage—I'll be waiting by elevator 3."
Ambrose's jaw tightened. "Got it."
He ended the call and turned, reaching for Scarlett's hand. His fingers laced through hers as he pivoted toward a different corridor.
"We're taking another route."
Scarlett caught the shift in his expression—something darker, more guarded. She didn't ask. Just followed, her own pulse quickening. The last thing she needed was to be photographed. That kind of ammunition in the wrong hands...
"Do you have a mask?" Ambrose asked after a few strides.
Ever since that last tabloid incident, Scarlett had started carrying extras. "Yeah, I've got some."
She dug into her purse and pulled out two surgical masks, holding one out to him.
"You should wear one too."
She tore open the packaging on hers and quickly looped it over her ears.
Ambrose took the other mask but didn't put it on. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, that playful edge creeping into his voice. "Help me with it?"
Scarlett froze for two seconds flat. Part of her wanted to snap that he was perfectly capable of putting on his own damn mask, but they didn't have time for this. Who knew what would happen if they delayed any longer?
She snatched the mask from his hand and stretched it over his face, her movements a little rougher than necessary.
Ambrose looked vaguely put out.
"Let's go," she said, already moving.
He sighed but followed.
---
When they reached the underground garage via elevator 3, it was pure chaos. A wall of bodies pressed around the elevator bay—reporters, cameras, flashing lights.
Scarlett had never dealt with anything like this before. Her heart hammered against her ribs. As she stepped toward the car, her heel caught on the edge of the running board.
She pitched forward.
Before she could hit the ground, Ambrose's hand shot out and caught her arm, steadying her.
"Easy," he murmured, his voice low. "What's the rush?"
Heat flooded Scarlett's cheeks. She ducked her head. "Your SUV's just... really high off the ground."
It wasn't the sleek Bentley they usually took—this was a Range Rover, built like a tank. Ambrose didn't comment. He just pulled her up into the vehicle and tucked her against his side.
Scarlett tried to shift away, but his voice cut through her thoughts.
"Don't move. There are cameras everywhere."
She went still, heart still racing, though her mind screamed the opposite. If there were cameras, shouldn't they be sitting apart?
The engine roared to life. The lead Bentley pulled out first, and their SUV fell into formation behind it. Two more vehicles brought up the rear—a whole motorcade rolling out of Celestial Waters Hotel like some kind of presidential convoy.
Once they merged onto the main road, Scarlett finally spoke.
"Can you let go now?"
Ambrose glanced down at her, his expression unreadable. "Reporters are still tailing us."
"Then we should definitely sit separately."
His eyes narrowed. "What, am I suddenly toxic? You trying to distance yourself already?"
Scarlett pushed at his chest. "It's not that. I just think this looks... bad."
"Bad how?"
"I don't know!" The words tumbled out in a rush. "I'm confused, okay? Everything's a mess right now. Just—give me a couple of days to figure things out before we talk about this."
Her life had turned into a tornado. Yesterday, she'd finalized her divorce. Last night, she'd slept with Ambrose. And now... what? What the hell was she supposed to do with that?
Ambrose studied her for a long moment, then released her and shifted to his own seat. He knew better than to push. She was his now, anyway. He could afford to wait.
The silence in the car was thick enough to choke on.
Scarlett finally pulled out her phone and dialed Rhea.
Rhea picked up immediately. It was Saturday—both kids were home. Yara had been asking for her all morning.
Before Rhea could say a word, Yara's voice burst through the speaker.
"Mommy! Where are you?"
"Hey, sweetheart. I'm on my way home right now. Be good for Rhea, okay? I'll be there soon."
That seemed to satisfy her. After a few more back-and-forth reassurances, Scarlett ended the call and immediately dialed Briar.
Briar had called her a dozen times last night and another ten this morning. She was probably losing her mind.
The line barely rang once before Briar answered. "Scarlett! Where the hell are you?"
"I'm fine. I'm heading home now," Scarlett said quickly. "I'm okay, I promise."
"What happened last night?"
Scarlett's eyes flicked toward Ambrose. "I'll explain when I get back."
Briar caught the hesitation. "Alright. Just... get home safe."
When Scarlett hung up, she turned toward the window, watching the morning sunlight spill across the city skyline. Everything looked so normal out there. Bright. Ordinary.
Inside her head, it was anything but.
Beside her, Ambrose's phone rang. He answered with his usual clipped tone, keeping his responses short. Scarlett wasn't paying attention—until she heard him mention Hayden.
"I know. Hayden's with me. He's not home today. I'll bring him by another time."
His voice was flat. Detached.
It had to be a family calling. And if they didn't know Hayden was staying with her...
Scarlett's stomach twisted. What would happen if they found out?
She turned to him. "Does your family know Hayden's staying with me?"
Ambrose set his phone down, his gaze sliding toward her. Cool. Unreadable. "Does it matter if they do or don't?"
Scarlett bit her lip. "I just got divorced. I don't need to be dragged into some family drama."
His brow furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. "I'm not worried about it. So why are you?"
She didn't answer. Just turned back to the window.
All she wanted was for this mess to be over.
When they pulled up to Lakeside Garden, Scarlett climbed out. Ambrose stayed in the car—he had other things to deal with. He watched her disappear into the elevator before signaling the driver to leave.
Scarlett rode up alone, her mind still spinning.
When the elevator doors opened, she stepped into the hallway and froze.
Someone was waiting outside her door.
Wesley.
How the hell did he find this place?
Her whole body went rigid. Every muscle locked up. She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Then he turned.
Their eyes met.
And he started walking toward her.
Scarlett spun on her heel and ran.
She didn't want to see him. Couldn't stand to look at him. If she got close enough, she might actually kill him.
But he was faster.
Within seconds, his hand clamped around her wrist, yanking her to a stop.
"Scarlett." His voice was sharp, almost accusing. "You were with Ambrose last night. Did you sleep with him?"
Scarlett wrenched her arm free and slapped him.
Hard.
The crack echoed through the hallway.
"Last night was your doing, wasn't it?" Her voice shook with fury. "You and Ulysses set me up. Too bad your little plan didn't work." She stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "You're going to get what's coming to you, Wesley. I swear to God, you will.