51

“Brad, maybe you’d join me in the living room,” Ace commanded more than requested.
Brad’s smirk didn’t leave his face as he ran his eyes, slowly up and down Scarlett’s body. Scarlett rolled her shoulders trying to get the feeling off, as he walked away in the direction that Ace motioned to.
Before Scarlett could do anything, her arm was held in a vice-like grip as Ace pulled her towards him, a death-like frown plaguing his face.
“You’ll go upstairs to your room, immediately, and stay there,” he practically hissed, “You don’t come into or even near the living room for anything. Do you understand?”
Scarlett nodded, hastily. While she had known of Ace’s temper, she had never been on the receiving end of it.
He stared her down for a moment longer and then, walked away in the direction Brad had gone.
Scarlett exhaled, shakily and trudged upstairs, not hearing anything more than murmurs from the living room. She pushed her suitcase into the closet and dropped down on to the floor. Deciding to make use of the time unpacking, she organized her temporary closet until she got bored.
Looking around the room, she realized that she had forgotten to pack any reading material. Scarlett heaved herself to her feet and opened the door to her room, poking her head out, listening for any sounds of the men below, but there were none.
She tiptoed out with the simple plan of taking a book from Ace’s study in her mind. Without a sound, she crept downstairs and across the hall to Ace’s study.
She walked in and flicked the light on. The whole room was the perfect rendition of a stereotypical study, with gleaming wooden furniture, desk lamps and tall bookcases stacked with a large collection of books. Scarlett raised her head and looked all around the room, twirling to take everything in.
She walked across the room to a shelf that was drawing her in with all the hardcover books it held. Running her finger over each spine, she read the titles, looking for something that interested her.
To Scarlett, choosing a book was one of the hardest choices she had to make. She could rarely pick just one.
It was Grace who had made her fall in love with reading, and taught her to read the books of the men she worked for.
Scarlett shifted her eyes from one shelf to another when she heard a deep, low, mirthless chuckle from behind her.
Twirling suddenly, she saw Brad standing a few feet in from the door, like he had just caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Oh,” he rumbled, completely amused, “Aren’t we in trouble?”
Before Scarlett could question him as to why he said that, she looked over his shoulder and saw the answer.
Ace Hardwood stood at the door to his study, glaring at her; and if looks could kill…
Ace’s glare had the force to knock the air right out of Scarlett.
The generally confident, powerful girl stood in his study, backed up against a bookshelf, glancing back at him with worried eyes.
Brad was smirking with delight like Christmas had come early.
Scarlett swallowed. When the words left her mouth, they were barely audible. “I just wanted a book….”
“Ms. Ambrose,” Ace’s voice was deadly, “Please leave my study.”
Scarlett hastened out of there and Ace shut the door to the study, leaving Brad inside. He advanced on Scarlett, making her back down. “What part of ‘stay in your room’ do you not understand? Why can’t you just do what you’re told?”
“I just wanted a book,” Scarlett’s voice was shaky as she took a few steps back in the direction of the staircase, “I swear, I just wanted something to read and I thought you’d be in ”
Ace held up a hand. “Go to your room and don’t come out until I come get you. Do you think you can manage to do that?”
Scarlett nodded.
Ace flicked his hand to dismiss her and watched as she rushed upstairs before going back into the study. When he closed the door behind him, Brad was smirking at him, conspiratorially.
“Keep your friends close, keep your gorgeous PA closer, huh?”
Ace stared down Brad, making his countenance falter.
“You’re here to speak to me about business, which is the only reason I let you in my house. If you want to deviate from the topic, you can get the hell out,” Ace pushed open the door and stood aside.
Brad raised his arms in surrender. “Just give me draft of the terms of agreement and I’ll be on my way.”
Ace walked over to his desk. “And you’ll make no more impromptu house calls. I’ve a good mind to move.”
Brad, completely unfazed by the disdain with which many people treated him, just smiled.
Upstairs, Scarlett had stumbled into her new room and shut the door. She slid to the ground against the door and pulled her legs into herself, cradling them, feeling like a small child. She tried to shake the feeling of dread that had overcome her in the last few minutes.
When her heartbeat had finally slowed, she got up and paced across the room, wondering what would happen to her. She paced, biting the insides of her cheeks for almost a half hour when she heard a knock on her door.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She watched and waited as the knob turned and the door opened.
Ace stood there, one hand behind his back, gazing at her. The death in his eyes was gone, but they weren’t light, like they usually were. The bright green colour was clouded over.
“My office,” his voice was firm and low, like he was trying to make a point, as he took a step into the room, “At work and at home, are out of bounds to anyone without my permission. Understood?”
Scarlett nodded.
The room stilled as Ace considered her silent response. Revealing the hand behind his back, he placed two books on to the table in her room, gave her a once over and left, closing the door behind him.
Scarlett rushed over to the table and picked the books up, suddenly smiling. She read the titles and the inscription on the inside, which had his name and a date. She raised one of the books to her nose and flipped the pages inhaling the homely smell of books. Suddenly, all was right in the world again.
Happily, she sat on the ground, leaning against the bed and began reading the book about social psychology. Scarlett had delved deep into marveling at the way the mind works when another knock came and the door opened, slowly.
Ace looked around and located her on the floor. He cocked his head to a side and looked at her. “Dinner’s ready, Ambrose,” he said, softly, the hardness of before, dissipated.
Scarlett got to her feet and smiled. “You made me dinner?”
There wasn’t a smile on Ace’s face, but the corners of his mouth turned up at her smile. “If by ‘made’ you mean ‘heated up what Belinda cooked’, sure.”
Scarlett placed her new book on to the table. “I knew you weren’t that skilled,” she said, walking past Ace and out of the room, leaving him to follow her with his eyes as he closed the door to her room. He didn’t expect her countenance to go back to normal so quickly, especially not after the look of dread she’d had on her face earlier, but here she was, happy and quippy as usual. He followed her.
Downstairs, Ace had set the table for dinner, complete with crockery, cutlery and a steaming casserole dish of baked pasta with a side of fresh hand-tossed salad.
Ace pulled a chair out and seated Scarlett before sitting down, himself. She followed him with her eyes.
“You’re being oddly nice,” she commented, “It’s suspicious.”
“You’re right. You’re not nice to me, I shouldn’t be nice to you.” There was a glimmer of a smile on his face as he watched her.
“That’s not true. I’m very nice to you. I do everything you ask.”
“That’s because I pay you to.”
Scarlett shrugged. “I could be mean to you while doing it.”
Ace nodded. “You are. No one’s as mean to me as you are.”
Scarlett looked at him with mock disdain. “No wonder you’re such a spoilt brat then.”
Ace stared at Scarlett, his eyes hooded by his dark eyebrows. There was no smile on his face, but he was in good humour. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m a spoilt brat?”
Scarlett rolled her eyes in thought. “Maybe not before, but you’re definitely one now.”
Ace shook his head slowly and sighed. “Would you like some wine?”
Scarlett smiled, mischievously, raising her eyebrows at Ace. “Are you trying to put the moves on me?”
He puffed out a breath. “No alcohol for you.” He gestured for her to hand her plate over and placed a serving of salad and pasta on to it before passing it back to her. “Tell me Ambrose, would you have any reservations in taking a work trip?”
“To where?” Scarlett picked up her fork.
“It’s a general question, for my information,” he said.
Scarlett gave him a one shoulder shrug. “Sure, I mean, that’s what you pay me for.”
“No one who would object to it? Parents? Siblings?” he asked.
She looked at him, warily. “I have no siblings; no parents. I have no one.”
Ace was quiet as he considered this. He cleared his throat. “Good. Nothing tying you down.”
Scarlett had never heard this in response to her lack of family, so she was quiet. Never had she connected the lack of kin to freedom that people with family didn’t have.
“Do you have any trips on the horizon?”
“I might.”
Scarlett sighed. “You know, you’re such an open book. I literally know everything about you,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Ace nodded, leaning in. “If I tell you all my secrets, you’ll have nothing to work for.”
Scarlett smirked and leaned in, as well, taking care to bite her lip as she gazed at his. “You just want me around.”
Ace leaned back into his own chair. “Nothing,” he waved his fork, “Could be further from the truth.”
“How come you don’t have any oil paintings of yourself in your office or in your house?” Scarlett asked, looking around.
Ace snorted. “I’m not that self-involved.”
“All businessmen do.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have a lot of experience with businessmen?”
“I’ve seen the movies,” she replied, smoothly, not wanting him to know the truth, “And I’ve worked for people before I worked for you.”
“You can’t have been a PA your whole life,” he said.
“I’ve been a lot of things,” Scarlett raised her eyebrows as she forked a cherry tomato into her mouth.
“And have you always been such a defiant, brazen employee?” Ace asked.
Scarlett shook her head and smiled her smile. “Just for you.”
Ace chuckled and shook his head, lapsing into silence.
Scarlett leaned back in her chair. “Do you have any tattoos?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She nodded. “I would. That’s why I asked.”
Ace looked at her the way he normally did; no smile on his face, but there was placid intrigue riddled into his features. His eyes gleamed bright green. “I guess that’s for me to know…”
Scarlett made a face at him that told him that he was boring. “I’ll just wait out here and ask one of the girls who traipses out of your room,” she said, and then leaned in with a smirk, “Or better yet, I’ll just find out for myself.”
Ace gazed at her. “I think you should go to your room after dinner.”
Scarlett sighed and leaned back. “If you’re bringing a girl, just give me a heads up. You know, put a sock on the door or something. And could I get some petty cash for some noise cancelling headphones?”
Now, Ace was amused. “So, you do believe that I have some sexual prowess.”
Scarlett scoffed, exaggeratedly. “No. I just think those girls are probably dying to suck up to you.” She turned her voice into a mocking tone. “Oh, you’re the best I’ve ever had! No one does it like you!” She spoke in her normal voice. “It’s probably what you hear from them all the time.”
Ace smiled, amused. “Maybe you should listen in next time.”
Scarlett made a dry heaving noise, as Ace got up.
The pair cleaned up the dinner, silently and much to Ace’s surprise, after the washing up was done, Scarlett ambled upstairs, just like she’d been told to do.
Scarlett grabbed her book from the desk and sat on the floor reading. Her door was open and Ace neither returned to his room, nor made a sound.
She stared at his closed bedroom door, deciding against trying to explore it that night, in fear of getting caught.
Time passed as the inhabitants of the house went about their business in silence. The time on the clock read that it was a little past ten when Scarlett looked at it.
The tinkling sound of music coming from downstairs shook her from her trance of reading. It was soft, mellow jazz music; the kind that Grace played in her house sometimes, saying that it reminded her of the music her parents would listen to; the kind of music her husband loved.
Slowly, she put her book down and got to her feet. The music pulled her out of her room and on to the landing. Quietly, Scarlett took cautious steps down the stairs, careful not to hint at her arrival to Ace. She followed the curve of the staircase and looked through the gaps in the banister at the TV room below her.
Ace was still dressed in the light bluish grey shirt he had had on since she got back, opened at the collar, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. The shirt clung to his broad frame, to his muscles in the most gentlemanlike manner. His feet were bare and he was seated, completely relaxed on the cloud couch, reading through a document in his hand. The stereo in the corner of the room was playing the soft jazz that had drawn Scarlett out.
Scarlett sat down on the step of the staircase and watched him. Ace’s long fingers flipped pages idly, as his eyes skimmed the material. He was the picture of ease; not like the epitome of focus and determination that he was at work. He was relaxed as he read the document in his hand.
Scarlett gazed at the man that was her target, analyzing everything that he did, from the slightest nod of his head as he read the words, to the way his fingers sometimes flowed in time with the music, to the way he moved his head at a particularly entrancing part of the music. She gripped the bar of the banister closest to her, seeing that work on a weekend didn’t seem to bother Ace Hardwood in the least.
There was something about the way he was different when he was alone to when he was surrounded by the people who worked for him; something about the way he
“You know, Ambrose, if you’re going to stare at me so much, you might as well draw an oil painting of me.”
The air stilled.
Scarlett had not yet released the breath she took.
Ace still looked down at the papers in his hand, not at the girl on the staircase.
Boldly, Scarlett got to her feet and stepped down the rest of the way until she stood in the room where Ace sat. He was yet to raise his head to look at her.
Scarlett ambled on to the couch, taking a seat opposite her boss. She was quiet for a while, gazing around the room. The soft jazz music that surrounded them had mellowed Scarlett’s usually hyper countenance. Her shoulders relaxed and her head lolled to the music before she caught herself and stopped.
“Why do you work on the weekends?” she asked, her words rolling off her tongue smoothly, in keeping with the mood set by the music.
Ace’s voice was deep, low and soft when he replied, “The devil doesn’t take breaks.”
“Did you just call yourself the devil?”
Ace made a low sound, but neither agreed nor disagreed.
“Doesn’t it get lonely? Being here all alone, after working all week?” Scarlett brought her legs on to the couch and crossed them.