Finally, Ace flickered his bright green eyes on to the beautiful woman who sat in front of him. One corner of his mouth was slightly upturned. He, too, was the most relaxed Scarlett had ever seen him. “I’m not alone. You’re here.”
Scarlett gazed at him through clear blue eyes. “Now. I’m not here always.”
Ace offered no explanation; he simply smiled. His gaze fell back on to the document on this lap.
Scarlett exhaled softly. “June twenty-fourth.”
“Hmm?” Ace flipped a page.
“Your birthday. Is it the twenty-fourth of June?”
A smile overcame Ace’s face before he shut his file. “Why the twenty-fourth of June?”
Scarlett shrugged. “Just a random guess.” Ace shook his head.
“October fifteenth.” He shook his head again, still smiling.
“April first?”
The slightest laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “Only three hundred and sixty-three more options to try.”
“Three hundred and sixty-two,” Scarlett reminded him, “I also know it’s not the twentieth of May, because that’s the fake date you gave all the girls who called.”
Ace let out an amused exhale and nodded. “Right.”
“Does it fall on a major holiday?” she asked.
Ace leaned back, amused, almost happy to be playing her little game. “Not that I know of.” He would have told her which day it was, but he almost didn’t want to deprive her the joy of guessing.
“Is it leap day?”
He shook his head again.
Scarlett sighed and laid down on her back on her side of the couch, and looked up at the floating ceiling above her, lined with hidden LED lights that rendered some lighting to the room. She left one arm fall off the edge of the couch and on to the floor where the tips of her fingers caressed the carpet. “Is this the kind of music you like?”
Ace nodded, slowly, in tune with the music.
Scarlett had been around many men and their habits. None of them listened to smooth jazz while leafing through documents in their down time.
“Tell me something, Ambrose.”
Scarlett hummed an agreement.
Ace put his file down next to him and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Tell me your real name.”
Scarlett angled her head to look at him through half opened eyes. “What does that mean?”
“Scarlett Ambrose.” The words rolled off of Ace’s tongue like he had been meant to be saying them all this time; like her name was only ever meant come from his mouth; only ever meant to be spoken in his voice. “That can’t be a real name.”
Scarlett’s eyes fluttered. “That’s a rather pot-kettle situation you’ve got there, Ace.”
One side of Ace’s mouth curled into a smile, his eyes unwavering from her. “My full name is Aeson.”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow and let her eyes trail from his bare feet to his sparkling green eyes that watched her. “Like the King of Iolcus?”
Ace chuckled with a nod. “In Greek mythology, yes. You know your literature.”
Scarlett traced her curve of his smile with her eyes; faint smile lines that formed on his skin; her eyes fell on to the exposed bit of his collarbones that his open collar allowed and then, she refocused her eyes back on to the ceiling. “I read. Your parents named you Aeson, after a Greek King and named your sister Emerson?”
“It’s biblical.”
“Yes, the son of Emery, meaning brave and powerful.”
Ace puffed out a breath in a laugh. “You know a lot about the meanings of names.”
“Why didn’t they name her something like Cassiopeia, or Persephone? Or Helen?”
Ace sighed. “I wasn’t really around when they named her to ask.”
Scarlett wasn’t completely satisfied. “Hera? Myrina? Penelope?”
“No matter how many Queens of Greek mythology you name, Ambrose, it doesn’t change the fact that my sister is named Emerson.”
Scarlett sighed, deeply. “Why do people call you Ace?”
“Maybe because I’m good at everything.”
Scarlett’s eyes rolled almost on their own volition, but she said nothing.
“You haven’t told me your real name.”
Ace watched as Scarlett’s head turned to face him and her eyes linger on him again. He watched as her blue eyes, light under the illumination, staggered on his lips before meeting his own eyes.
“I guess that’s for me to know….” she told him, an air of mystery intertwining itself with her sultry tone.
He couldn’t fathom for the life of him whether she was joking or telling the truth. Ignorance may be bliss to many people, but Ace Hardwood thrived on knowing everything he possibly could.
Scarlett’s fingers flowed up and down his carpet, in time with the music. She still had on the red lipstick she had put on in the morning and Ace marveled at how durable lipstick really was.
As she lay on his couch, he couldn’t help, but realize that there was something so unusual about her. She didn’t ask questions that other women did. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on; there was something about her that puzzled him; something about the way she
“You know, Hardwood, if you’re going to stare at me so much, you might as well draw an oil painting of me.”
Ace’s eyes closed and a single laugh escaped him.
“What are your house rules?” Scarlett asked, looking over at him. She squished one eye shut and held up a few fingers, seeing how many it took for her not to see him anymore. Then, she closed her other eye and moved her fingers to do the same.
“No guests,” he said, watching her.
“But you can bring guests.”
“It’s my house.”
“What else?” Scarlett squinted and measured with her fingers how tiny Ace was from a distance.
“Just keep the place clean; no loud noises; you can bring any food that you want to eat that isn’t already here. My room and my study are out of bounds without my permission.”
Scarlett dropped her hand. “You’re terribly boring.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m not an international spy.”
Scarlett licked her lips. “That would have been incredibly cool. I could have had some real fun stories to tell; there could have been adventures.”
She yawned, softly and drifted into silence.
“Doesn’t this music want to make you sit in a New York city hotel restaurant in the eighties, having a candle-lit dinner with someone you love?” she asked, dreamily, “Just talking about nothing and everything. Maybe dancing.” Scarlett’s eyes were drooping. “Like nothing could possibly go wrong.”
“I thought you didn’t love anyone,” Ace said, lowly, watching her.
Scarlett gave the slightest of shrugs. “This music can make you dream.” Her voice, like his, was low, soft, melding in with the soft tone of the music that surrounded them.
It was one of the most peaceful moments that either of them had been a part of, but of course, they barely knew it.
Ace watched her body relax into the couch and her eyes flutter closed from time to time. His brow furrowed, wondering about the strange girl who was so causally sprawled on his couch before him. The women he brought to this house were generally very business-minded. They spoke of sensuous things from the moment they stepped through the door, trying their best to coax the clothes off of him; not that Ace ever objected; those women didn’t take his brain’s or heart’s fancy. Those women didn’t ask strange questions or any questions at all. They didn’t speak of his taste in music. Not Scarlett, though. Scarlett spoke of soft jazz like it was her friend.
He shook himself to get rid of his train of thought.
“Ambrose, if you fall asleep on that couch, you will wake up on that couch.”
Scarlett’s eyes fluttered open. “It’s the music,” she said, distractedly, and yawned again and stretched, “It’s so,” she sighed snuggled herself into the cushion next to her, “Relaxing.”
Ace reached out and picked his file back up. “Go to sleep, Ambrose,” he ordered, more than said.
There were a few silent moments before Scarlett pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the staircase, rubbing her eyes like a child. She walked slowly up the stairs, so gracefully for someone who was sleepy, her fingers trailing behind her on the banister.
Her voice mingled with the music one last time for that night.
“Goodnight, Aeson.”
His ears pricked at the sound of his name coming from her voice as Ace watched until her fingers trailed out of his sight.
The next morning, when Scarlett awoke, it was early, as usual, and she sat at the breakfast nook waiting for him to come downstairs.
It was Belinda who walked in the door.
“Oh, hi, Belinda,” Scarlett said, happily, “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
Belinda smiled. “Mr. Hardwood asked me to come.”
“Oh, well, Ace must be sleeping in. He’s usually awake before you come.”
Belinda shook her head. “Mr. Hardwood isn’t here. He took a red-eye flight for some business last night.”
Scarlett paced up and down on the balcony outside the living room, wondering why Ace hadn’t even bothered to mention to her that he would be going on a work trip. He had even asked her if she would be willing to go with him.
The doorbell ringing made her hurry inside the house, just in time to see Belinda open the door. Michael stepped into the foyer.
“Hey, Belinda,” he had a big, sealed Manila envelope in his hand, “I just wanted to drop this off.”
When Scarlett appeared in plain view, he smiled at Scarlett. “Hey,” he said, softly, “I heard you were here.”
Belinda took the manila envelope and took it into the living room, where she sat all of the mail.
Michael lingered, looking at Scarlett. “How’s living with Ace?” he asked.
Scarlett shrugged. “It’s alright. Where is he, Mike? He didn’t even tell me he was going anywhere.”
Michael seemed surprised. “Oh, he went to Devon Falls for an important meeting. He should be back later today or early tomorrow. Don’t worry, he’ll be into work on Monday.”
Scarlett nodded, making a mental note of Devon Falls to tell Terrence.
“Have you had lunch?” she asked, trying to be hospitable.
Michael shook his head. “I am going to meet my boyfriend for a late lunch,” he smiled.
Scarlett nodded. This was the first thing that she had learnt about Michael. Biting her lip, she wondered whether to ask Michael something.
Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Mike, can I ask you something?”
He nodded, without hesitation.
“Who is Brad Windom and why does Ace hate him so much?”
Michael rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply. “Shall we sit?” he asked, gesturing to the small couch that sat at the entryway. Scarlett followed him and sat down.
“Look, it’s not just Ace, alright? Everybody in the business, in this town and anyone who knows him really, they all hate him. He does have some friends, but his friends are the kind of people everyone hates. You get it, right?”
Scarlett nodded, slowly.
“Brad and all his friends don’t have any principles. I mean, there’s business and then there’s what they do,” Michael sighed, “Look, if Ace told you to keep away from Brad, I’d listen. Hell, I’d tell you to stay away from Brad. You’re pretty, Scarlett. That’s Brad’s favourite kind of girl.”
Scarlett laughed.
“Actually, no. His favourite kind of girl is female.” Michael looked absolutely disgusted as he spoke of Brad, “He’s tried to undermine Ace for years. Brad has a big company, yes, but it was his father who built it. Brad did practically nothing. He was just handed a shiny office and loads of money. Ace has been building this company of his since he was eighteen. He put everything in him to make this. Brad’s a little older than Ace and is I don’t know bitter, maybe, that Ace is doing so well. He’s bitter that everyone is doing well, but won’t bother to do a damn thing himself.”