57

Ace watched as she put the bag away, washed her hands and walked away in the direction of the staircase. “Don’t forget your tux, Captain Bossy. It’s on the couch.”
Captain Bossy stood at the counter a while longer before proceeding down the same path Scarlett had taken and up into his room, where he got dressed in his favourite suit for the gala.
He was in the living room, adjusting his cufflinks as he gazed down at the lights below him that he heard the sound stilettos hitting the tile and he turned in time to see Scarlett walk in.
She wore a bright red dress, with long sleeves and a plunging neckline, showcasing, more than hinting at the skin on her chest. She looked absolutely beautiful.
Ace disapproved. “Change. Immediately.”
Scarlett made a face. “Excuse me?”
“Go change. I’m not taking you anywhere with that neckline.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing’s wrong with your neckline. You have every freedom to wear whatever you like. Not tonight, however. There’s a lot of things wrong with some of the people at this party, though. Go change, Ambrose. Don’t argue,” Ace sighed.
Taking in the look on his face, Scarlett, for a change, didn’t. Instead, she wandered back upstairs and discarded the dress she wore and traded it in for a deep blue number, with the slightest hint of sparkle that you’d do a double take when it caught your eye. The skirt billowed and the tulip sleeves made her seem as delicate as a flower.
When she returned to gain Ace’s approval, he looked at her from the top of her dark brown hair to the bottom of her glistening silver stilettos in marvel.
“You look nice, Ambrose,” he said.
Scarlett raised her eyebrows. “Could it be? A compliment?” She laughed.
“Alright, Ambrose, let’s just leave, shall we?”
“My God, it must be the first compliment,” Scarlett mused as she walked to the door, making Ace shake his head, slowly, with a small smile, “This is a real dear diary moment. However will my life top this?”
Ace rolled his eyes as he listened to her sarcastic musings until they got to the car.
Once they arrived at the Chateau, Ace soon realized that it might have been a better idea to leave the well-dressed beautiful woman who was with him at home.
With the people of the Chateau, the second appearance was almost harder than the first; when someone who had been the subject of many discussions when they first appeared, appeared again, more people knew and spoke about them.
Conversations hushed and heads turned as Scarlett confidently strode down the hallway, completely unfazed by the people who were making it almost blatantly obvious that they were speaking about her.
On the casino floor, Ace ground his teeth. Brad Windom had been rumoured to have been away for business, but there he stood, a smarmy smile on his face, preying eyes fixated on Scarlett, who seemed very happy to observe the magnificence of the chandeliers.
Ace leaned over to her and whispered in her ear. “Stay close to me.”
Scarlett shivered as his breath hit her skin and turned. “Why?” she asked, with a smirk.
“Do as you’re told, Ambrose.”
Ace held his arm out to her and she took it, easily.
Terrence Burke watched from across the room, feeling a keen self of self-pride. He walked over to Dan Andrews, who was getting himself a drink.
“Our girl really is something,” he told the younger man.
Dan turned to look in the direction of Terrence’s gaze. When he zoned in on Ace and Scarlett together, that strange tightening feeling in his collar reappeared and he tugged at it.
“So, you think she’s good?” Dan asked.
“Good? She’s fantastic,” Terrence laughed and clapped Dan on the shoulder, “You think anyone else could have gotten so close to Hardwood in such a short amount of time? Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Dan turned. “You’ve sent people into Ace’s company before?”
Terrence shrugged. “None of them worked, did they? They didn’t even get close to Ace. They were hired as interns or something, but they barely got onto his floor. This one, she’s the best.”
Dan sipped his drink and watched Ace lead Scarlett over to the bar on the other side of the room.
Ace nodded to the bar. “What would you like to have?”
“Prosecco,” she said.
Ace handed her a glass of prosecco and took a glass with one fingerbreadth of scotch. Scarlett took a sip and watched him just hold his glass.
She touched his arm making him turn to her. “Why do you always pour yourself a drink, but never drink it?”
Ace looked down at his glass and then back at her and shrugged. “I don’t like to get drunk in public.”
“Are you a lightweight?” Scarlett smiled.
“Not in the least. I’d just prefer not to.”
Scarlett furrowed her brow, looking at the glass in Ace’s hand. She looked around the room at the men, who all seemed to have some glass in their hand. It definitely didn’t seem like their first, considering the boisterous voices in the room. She reached out and took the glass out of Ace’s hand and put it back on the counter.
She said to the bartender, “Have that on him. You’ll need it to put up with these guys.”
The bartender smiled and raised the glass to her.
Ace looked confused. Scarlett took him by the arm, leading him away. “You don’t have to hold a glass in your hand and try to fit in with these people. If you don’t like to drink, don’t drink.”
Ace gazed at her in such deep thought that he didn’t even see Brad approach them.
“Well, Hardwood, you brought the prettiest girl in the room.”
He pumped his eyebrows in Scarlett’s direction, whose grip on Ace’s arm tightened. Ace felt it and took a step sideways to cover Scarlett from Brad.
“Brad,” Ace said, lazily, “I didn’t know they let pond scum into the Chateau.”
Brad was completely unfazed by the insult, but continued to stare down Scarlett, who absolutely refused to back down and was staring right back despite the fast pace of her heart.
“I’d love a dance with the lady,” Brad smiled at Scarlett.
Ace stepped in between Scarlett and Brad. “You’re here for the fundraiser, Windom. Act like it,” he said, savagely.
He took Scarlett’s arm and pulled her away, but nothing did stop Brad from staring after her.
Throughout the night, Ace endured questions about Scarlett, while she endured looks and winks from various people.
The main course of dinner was barely over when Ace stood up. “We’re leaving,” he said to Scarlett, completely fed up of the people around him.
He walked over to the organizer’s booth and pulled out his cheque book. Scarlett watched as he wrote a cheque for a million dollars to the children’s fund the gala was in aid of.
He slammed the cheque down against the table and looked at the woman at the booth, whose eyes widened. “I don’t want anything, just make sure that money gets to the kids.”
Beckoning to Scarlett with a finger, he walked out and practically shoved Scarlett into her side of the car. In the silence of the car ride, Scarlett stared at the side of Ace’s face. He didn’t attempt any conversation; he just stared out the window. She wondered about the man who had so easily given a million to children, but then again, that was a drop in the bucket for Ace Hardwood.
He was even quiet in the elevator ride up to the penthouse, where he said to Scarlett, “You can go to bed. I’ve got some work to do.”
He walked over to the living room to retrieve his mail.
Ace was about to enter his study, when he heard a rustling sound from the kitchen. He followed it to find Scarlett in the kitchen still dressed in all her finery, silver earrings still dangling from her ears, hair still held back by a glimmering clip, the dark blue skirt that brought out her eyes and looked like a night sky speckled with shimmering stars, every making of the belle of the ball leaning against the counter near one of the pantry shelves dipping Oreos into a glass of milk.
They watched each other silently from opposite sides of the room as Ace crossed it to stand next to her.
“What are you doing, Ambrose?” he asked, inquisitively, just to see what she would say.
She shrugged. “That food was not enough and you made me leave before I could even have dessert. You owe me dessert.”
Ace raised his eyebrows, the tensions from the evening dissipated. “Is that so?”
Scarlett nodded, taking a bite of a cookie.
“Tell me, Ambrose, what do I owe you in terms of dessert?” Ace leaned in towards her.
Scarlett thought. “How many options do I get?”
“One.”
She was disappointed by the option of only one, but she answered him anyway, leaning towards him, their noses mere inches apart. “Whipped cream.”
One corner of Ace’s mouth curled into that roguish smile that he seemed to have perfected. “Why whipped cream?” he asked, his deep voice making the words seem mildly sensual.
Scarlett’s movements slowed. “Why not whipped cream? You can’t tell me you don’t like it.”
“Of course, I do, but I want to know why of all the choices you could have made, you chose whipped cream.” Ace’s eyes bore into Scarlett’s.
Involuntarily, Scarlett bit the corner of her lip, watching how Ace’s moved as he spoke. She looked into his eyes, never one to back down and took another step forward so that there was no space in between them and put her hand on Ace’s arm. “Isn’t it the most fun of all the options?”
Her eyes fell back on to his lips as his smirk deepened.
They stood motionless for a moment.
The world seemed to come to a halt.
Time had stopped, until Ace’s hand gripped her waist, lowered his head and placed his lips on Scarlett’s.
He kissed her in earnest, as Scarlett’s hand gripped the lapels of his tuxedo. She kissed him back, melting into him. She pressed her lips against his as he held her tightly.
After a few seconds, Ace pulled away. Scarlett held her breath, wondering whether her wiles had finally worked, but then, Ace gave a small chuckle, his signature smirk still on his lips.
“Isn’t that what you’ve been wanting for weeks?”
Scarlett inhaled sharply, retrieving her hands.
Ace chuckled and straightened. He began to walk away. “Go to bed, Ambrose.”
When Scarlett came downstairs and picked the paper from the foot of the door, the front-page article about the fundraiser held the week before screamed in her face.
As she skimmed the article and saw the sum that was donated to the children’s fund, she smiled thinking of how a million of that had been from Ace, probably because he couldn’t stand the men who were hitting on her.
She tossed the paper on to the breakfast counter and pulled out a new coffee filter. She hesitated.
Making coffee for Ace wasn’t something she did regularly. She did it when she felt like; apparently this was one of those days.
After she let the coffee brew, she fetched a box of separated pomegranate seeds and sat down, ready to read the comics.
Ace came downstairs not too long after and silently poured himself a coffee.
Neither of them had spoken of the kiss they shared many nights before, but their exchange of usual banter had continued.
“Calvin saying anything interesting to Hobbes?” Ace asked, still standing near the coffee machine as he sipped it.
“Doesn’t he always?” Scarlett asked, not looking up from the paper.
The sound of heels on the tile was an unfamiliar sound to Scarlett, who was the only one in the house who wore heels. She looked up to see a dark-haired girl walk in.
Her pace slowed when she saw Scarlett, but she approached the two at the counter all the same. “Who’s this, Ace?” she asked.
“This is my assistant,” he said, glancing between the two women.
“Oh, hi, I’m Lydia,” she said, grinning.
Scarlett raised her eyebrows, but smiled. “I’m Scarlett. It’s very nice to meet you Lydia.”
Lydia exhaled. “Well, I’ll be going. See you around, Ace.”
She turned on her heel and walked out just as abruptly as she had come in.
Scarlett turned her piercing blue gaze to Ace, who looked at her over his cup of coffee. “Did you soundproof your room, or was she just not willing to agree with you that much?” She pumped her eyebrows at him.
Ace sipped his coffee.
“I mean, you didn’t even tell me. Not even a sock on the door? Come on, Hardwood, that’s not how you behave when you’ve got other people living in the house,” she teased, “I could have thought you were dying or something, if I had heard.”
“Mister Hardwood,” Ace corrected.
Scarlett smirked. “That’s in the office, Mr. I’m Trying to Avoid the Subject at Hand.”
“You don’t call me ‘Mr. Hardwood’ in the office, either.”
Scarlett chuckled, mockingly. “Oh, but did Lydia call you that in this very house last night?”
“Ambrose, I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”
“Do you ask them to call you that in bed or do they just do it?”
“Ambrose ”
“And this one was just too happy to leave immediately. I’m surprised she didn’t just scale the building walls last night.”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Yeah. It just takes me a minute to process that much boring,” Scarlett teased.
Ace sighed. “It’ll do you good to remember that I sign your cheques, Ambrose.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’ll do you good to come up with a better threat one of these days.”
Ace sat down and Scarlett pushed the sections of the newspaper she didn’t want towards him.
“So, tell me, was she good? Was she better than that blonde from all those weeks ago?” Scarlett put her chin in her hands and gave Ace her undivided attention.
“Feeling left out, Ambrose?” Ace asked, smirking.
“I’m just sad I don’t get to see you woo these women. Seriously, tell me next time. I’ll come in with some popcorn.”
Ace fluffed out his newspaper, pointedly and raised it so that it covered his face, blocking his vision of Scarlett, making her laugh.
*
One in the afternoon found Scarlett happily leaving her favourite cafe down the street from Woods Towers, after a hearty lunch, carrying the book she was reading in one hand and a paper bag with a sandwich she had picked up for Ace in the other. He had been frowning at his laptop screen from morning and Scarlett figured that his stomach was a personal matter and she was in charge of it.
She was about to cross the street when a low voice made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
“Scarlett Ambrose,” said the voice, rolling the words around like they had been long lost.
Scarlett turned to see Brad Windom leaning against the side of a building. The bright sun did nothing to aid the chill that went down her spine.
Brad stepped forward and wrapped his hand around Scarlett’s arm and pulled her towards him. “What an absolute pleasure to run into you like this.”
Scarlett tugged her arm, but he held it tightly. “This was no accident, you creep.”
“You know, for someone with such a beautiful set of lips, you do say some venomous things,” he said.
Scarlett glared.
Brad simply smiled in his slimy manner and reached out and plucked the book out of her hand. He flipped it open and read the inscription, his eyebrows raising. “My, my. Ace Hardwood let you have one of his books even after he caught you in his office?” He turned his eyes back to Scarlett. “You must be special.”
Scarlett snatched the book out of his hand. “Get out of my way before I start screaming.”
“Oh, baby, I want you to scream,” Brad chuckled, darkly, “You’re quite cute when you’re mad.”
“Well, I must be straight up gorgeous right about now,” Scarlett sneered. She elbowed him in the ribs with the arm he was holding, and hurried away, her heart racing.
Brad watched her go as he rubbed his ribcage, smiling to himself.
Scarlett ran without a backward glance and didn’t stop until she got to the fortieth floor. Standing in the corridor, she caught her breath before proceeding down towards Ace’s office.
Inside, Ace was now glaring down at a document like he had some personal vendetta against it.
Scarlett’s hands shook as she knocked on his open door. He raised his head and spoke rather sharply. “What do you need, Ambrose?”
She walked in, almost in a daze, holding out the bag to him. “I thought you might need this.”