Chapter 80 Desecrated Ring
Ambrose pulled her close. "You're tired now. You'll sleep better tonight."
His voice dropped to that husky rumble, and before she could process his words, his mouth was on hers again. Scarlett was genuinely exhausted—she pushed weakly at his chest, mumbling her protest.
"Ambrose, seriously? Enough already."
He'd claimed earlier that she was the one who'd begged him for sex. Fine. He'd gotten his payback. What more did he want?
Ambrose let out a low chuckle. "Not nearly enough."
And then his hands were on her again, his kiss demanding, as if he needed to make up for every frustrating moment of the past few weeks in one night. Scarlett's strength was no match for his, and gradually, she melted under his touch.
The car's interior wasn't exactly cramped, but for a man like Ambrose—insatiable when it came to this—it definitely limited his options. The usual positions weren't cutting it anymore.
Scarlett's slender waist and pliant body were like a treasure he'd just discovered, and he took full advantage, maneuvering her into position after position.
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, hazy with sensation. In her desperation, her fingers found the ring on his hand, and suddenly she had an idea—a way to make him stop. Her voice came out hoarse.
"You're disrespecting the ring you're wearing."
Some people wore rings to keep others at a distance. She'd always figured Ambrose was one of those people.
In the darkness, Ambrose went completely still. He looked down at her, and even in the dim light, he could make out the wounded expression on her face. A low laugh rumbled in his chest. Then he leaned close to her ear, his tone deliberately wicked.
"Perfect. From now on, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want."
Just like that, he'd dismissed the ring's entire existence. Scarlett bit her lip, refusing to give up.
"It only means something if you respect it. Otherwise, what's the point? You're just wearing it as jewelry?"
Ambrose nipped at her earlobe, his voice dropping to that dangerously seductive register. "You're right. Starting now, I don't need it to mean anything. So yeah, let's go with your interpretation—pure decoration."
Scarlett had met shameless people before, but this took it to a whole new level.
As if to prove his point, his movements became even more intense. After that, Scarlett couldn't form words—only soft whimpers escaped her lips. When she finally reached that peak, she bit down hard on his neck to muffle her cry.
Afterward, Scarlett lay boneless against the seat, completely spent. Ambrose, just as before, took care of her first—straightening her clothes, making her presentable—before dealing with his own disheveled state.
The car interior reeked of sex. They definitely couldn't stay here. He stepped out and scooped her up, heading toward the elevator entrance of Lakeside Garden.
Scarlett was beyond exhausted and had no interest in walking. She let him carry her into the elevator. Besides, at this hour, the kids would be asleep anyway.
When they entered the apartment, everything was quiet. Rhea had left a night light on. Ambrose kicked off his shoes—didn't even bother with slippers—and carried her straight to the bedroom.
Once inside, Ambrose moved to set her on the bed, but Scarlett wanted to go directly to the bathroom. He obliged without argument.
"Want me to help you shower?" Ambrose asked, watching her with that infuriatingly casual expression.
Scarlett shut him down immediately, her tone ice-cold. "I'll do it myself. Get out."
Maybe because he'd gotten what he wanted tonight, Ambrose didn't push. He retreated from the bathroom. After leaving, he went to the car to grab a spare set of clothes, and by the time he returned, Scarlett was already in bed, fast asleep.
Ambrose approached the bedside and saw her eyes were closed. He took his clothes into the bathroom. Scarlett was so exhausted that she fell into a deep sleep almost immediately, which meant she didn't even notice when Ambrose climbed into her bed.
The next morning, the moment she opened her eyes and saw Ambrose beside her, she was wide awake. What the hell was he doing here?
She immediately shoved his arm off her body and sat bolt upright. Maybe her movement was too abrupt—Ambrose's eyes opened.
"Why are you sleeping here?" Her voice dripped with irritation and disgust.
Ambrose yawned, then answered with complete nonchalance. "It was late last night. I just crashed here."
"Who said you could sleep here?" Scarlett was furious. Fine, she'd slept with him twice last night—whatever. But now he was taking it to the next level, actually climbing into her bed?
Ambrose stared at her directly, his voice dropping to something almost pitiful. "I was exhausted last night. Driving home wouldn't have been safe."
Scarlett took a steadying breath. "So why didn't you sleep in the guest room?"
He paused for a few seconds before answering. "Your bed's more comfortable."
Scarlett ground her teeth together. She wanted to curse him out, but couldn't find the words. Furious, she threw back the covers and got out of bed, talking as she moved.
"If you want to keep sleeping with me, then I'm quitting your company. And if you want me to keep working at your company, then you're not allowed in my bed again."
Ambrose frowned, sitting up as well, clearly no longer interested in lying down. "How are those two things mutually exclusive?"
Standing beside the bed, Scarlett looked at him steadily, speaking with perfect clarity. "I don't want people questioning my professional abilities."
After yesterday's office gossip, she had zero interest in hearing it again.
"Did someone say something to you?" Ambrose caught the implication immediately, especially after witnessing Heath and the others' treatment of her last night.
Scarlett didn't answer. Instead, she headed toward the bathroom. But just as she reached the door, she heard knocking, accompanied by a cheerful little voice.
"Mommy!"
It was Yara.
Scarlett immediately spun around and rushed back to grab Ambrose.
"Yara's awake. You need to hide. Now."
Caught off guard, Ambrose actually let himself be pulled off the bed. He frowned. "You want me to hide?"
"Well, what else? If Yara sees you here, how am I supposed to explain it?" Scarlett pushed at him while she talked.
"Tell her the truth." Ambrose's response was utterly matter-of-fact.
Scarlett choked on her words.
"She can't know about... us."
Her eyes scanned the room frantically. The only place that could hide a whole person was the closet—and thankfully, it was a walk-in. She pulled him toward it.
"Get in."
Ambrose stood at the closet door, his expression thoroughly displeased. "You want me to hide in there?"
"It's the only place that'll work. Hurry up." Scarlett's voice was urgent with panic. When he didn't move, her desperation kicked into overdrive.
Seeing her genuine distress, Ambrose finally relented slightly.
"Kiss me, and I'll get in."
Scarlett's eyes went wide, practically shooting sparks. Was he seriously playing games with her right now? Negotiating at a time like this?
Ambrose didn't rush her. His stance made it clear: no kiss, no hiding.
The knocking came again, Yara's voice calling repeatedly. Scarlett bit down hard on her frustration. Whatever—it wasn't like she hadn't kissed him before. She rose on her toes and planted a quick peck on his cheek.
But he wasn't satisfied. He pointed to his lips, making his demand crystal clear.
No choice. She had to comply. But the second her lips touched his, he pulled her into a crushing embrace and kissed her thoroughly—only releasing her when he was completely satisfied. Then he sauntered into the closet with infuriating casualness, though he did offer some reassurance as she glared daggers at him.
"Don't worry. I definitely won't let Yara find me."
Scarlett shut the door, suppressed her anger, and went to open the bedroom door.
"Mommy, why did it take you so long to open the door?" Yara complained immediately.
"Mommy was just in the bathroom," Scarlett explained, moving to close the door—when she spotted Hayden. He'd followed Yara inside.
"Mommy, why are Ambrose's slippers here?" Suddenly, Yara's question rang out.