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My heart thundered so loudly in my ear that I almost didn’t hear what he said next.
“I’m hoping you’ll consider returning to Ambrose Media House, and I was further hoping we could discuss your contract over dinner,” he said, slowly, like he was gauging my reaction. “My wife would love to meet you. She read a few of your articles herself.”
The hope rose into my throat until I was in danger of choking on my breath. I’d completely forgotten that I was standing in the produce aisle at the grocery store as I replayed his words.
His wife, the beautiful Lucy Ambrose, wanted to meet me.Me!
I must’ve taken too long to respond, because his voice came over the line again, his tone tentative. “Ms. Gribald?”
“Call me Aria,” I blurted. “You can call me Aria, and I would love to, Mr. Ambrose. I’m glad to hear she liked my work. I can’t wait to meet her.”
I would be a complete idiot to turn down an opportunity like this one.
He chuckled, and my throat closed. He was so kind. How could I ever compare him to his evil son? “Wonderful, Aria! Is tomorrow too soon?”
Tomorrow was fucking perfect, actually.
“Tomorrow is fine,” I croaked.
“Great, I’ll send you the address. Should I send a car, or will you be able to—”
“No! I can— I’ll be fine to get there on my own.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Aria.”
“Bye,” I responded weakly.
I was still standing there, staring at the phone like it was the answer to all my new worries ten minutes later.
5
THE AMBROSE ESTATE
Aria
I’d always been a firm believer in making bad decisions solo.
If you were going to rob a bank, you didn’thaveto drag anyone else along for the ride, nor inform anyone of your terrible decision. If you were going to blow up a building, you sure wouldn’t invite someone along for that, and you sure wouldn’t tell anyone.
If you were going to meet your idol and his wife, by yourself, at what was definitely his house, you sure didn’t tell anyone.
However, suppose you hadn’t considered that this might be a trap—and that you might be walking into a hostile situation where he had realized what you were, intending to either poison or kidnap you—until you were standing at the bottom of his long driveway, the security booth in your sights. In that case,maybeyou should get someone involved.
But I hadn’t.
Instead, I had been standing there for so long, wondering if I had made a terrible decision, that the security guard approached me and asked if he could help me.
I almost asked if he thought my coming here, despite everything, was a bad idea, but I just told him who I was. He returned to the booth to double-check that I wasn’t lying, then pressed a button that opened the massive wrought-iron gates.
I was well aware of Azazel Ambrose’s net worth, of how much his company brought in annually, and I knew what the Ambrose Estate looked like from pictures and videos. Even so, nothing could have prepared me for the magnificence of the estate. A sprawling lawn framed it, peppered here and there by small clusters of flowers that bloomed pretty whites and blues.
The security guard helped me into a golf cart that took us up the winding driveway.
From here, I could see the mansion itself, though mansion was an understatement. With its ancient architecture, towers, and spires, it would be more fitting to call it a castle. From here, two floors of cream walls sported tamed ivy that had been left to run along either side. The windows on each floor held flower boxes beneath, with an assortment of wildflowers growing in each.
The road ended in a circular drive with an ostentatious water fountain. Two stone koi fish protruded from it, almost twined together as water spouted from their parted lips.
“Wait here,” the guard instructed, gesturing to the double doors. “Someone will be out to get you.”
