Chapter 50
BAITING THE TRAP
AURORA
Things happen fast.
Atticus had to cram a week's worth of planning into a single morning, and I had to leave before he was even finished.
By the time I got to my apartment, the fucking circus had already arrived, but as Ambrose promised, his buddies from the black SUVs were there, escorting me from the Uber to my front door.
Céline stayed. Someone needed to watch Ellie while I went to Charlotte.
She's been barking at the windows nonstop. So much so that when I left the apartment three hours ago, I screamed at the reporters to fuck off and that I wouldn't offer comment to anyone still here when I got back.
My hope was that once I was no longer there to reach for comment, they'd leave the apartment, but I texted Céline through the Rover app to tell her to take Ellie to her apartment instead if they stuck around.
And I got a message ten minutes ago saying she brought Ellie and her things back to her apartment because the reporters never left.
Fucking vultures.
"This way." Linette guides me from the elevator as I type out a thank-you to Céline.
If this works out how Atticus is hoping it will, she'll need all Ellie's things anyway, since I will not be putting my Ellie girl through international travel or bringing her anywhere near Ambrose's estate. Not if I can help it.
But what I wouldn't give for an Ellie hug right now…
"Okay, in here." Linette swipes a key card over a reader on a door, and it opens to a makeshift dressing room. I step inside, fingers fumbling on my phone as the conversation inside the space dies, and I find several pairs of eyes watching me.
"Uh, hi?"
"Oh dear." A guy with spiky white hair and a makeup brush in one hand presses said brush-wielding hand to his chest. The petite woman next to him eyes me from top to bottom with something like fear.
"You have ten minutes," Linette says behind me. "Aurora, I'll be back to get you when it's time."
"Right. Smile and nod," I say, repeating what she coached me to do when I first arrived fifteen minutes ago.
"Exactly. I have to go see if Mr. De La Rosa has arrived," she says, and sweeps the door shut behind her without another word.
As soon as it's closed, the others in the room crowd me. The woman brings over a hanger that has a structured navy dress with ivory trim and antique gold buttons that screams Stepford daughter.
And oh, look, there are ivory heels to match.
My nose wrinkles as she pushes the dress and heels into my hands and indicates a divider set up in the corner of the room. "Change quickly, we need to do something with that hair."
"What's wrong with my hair?"
I brushed it, but that's about all I had time for.
The walk of shame was pretty brutal, especially since I had to act like I was coming home from the frat house.
Wearing nothing but one of Atticus's T-shirts with a suit jacket of Elijah's over it.
I tried not to waddle, even though I'm not sure I'll be able to walk normally for at least another day.
It's all far too chaotic. Too real and messy.
Not at all like the perfectly laid plans Atticus intended.
I change quickly, glad the dress covers all the fingerprint bruises on my hips and thighs from how I spent my evening.
I slip the pointed heels onto my feet and tug at the dress, trying to get it to settle against my curves as I walk out from behind the divider.
"Oh, good, it fits." The petite woman claps her hands and then turns to the dude with the spiky hair. "Focus only on those circles under her eyes and getting some color in her cheeks. We don't have time for anything else. I've got her hair."
Once I've been colored and coiffed and forced to suffer through inhaling what I have to assume is a near-lethal amount of hairspray, Linette is back, and the tension ratchets another degree higher.
"Time to go."
My feet wobble in the stiletto heels as I stand, but I get my footing after a few steps as Linette takes me by the arm to hurry me along through the halls of the luxury hotel building Ambrose chose to host this official conference.
Somehow, I'm cold and sweating all at once, and when Linette drags me to a stop outside of a space already buzzing with the drone of conversation and bright lights, I only have a second to compose myself before someone touches my shoulder.
I spin and almost trip in my heels, finding Ambrose himself emerging from the shadows. "You're here. Good. You look lovely. I'm so sorry for this, Aurora."
His hands cup my shoulders, and I tense beneath his touch. I fumble for something to say, and land on, "It's not your fault."
"I wish that were true, but it's looking more and more like the leak came from someone on my legal team." He heaves a sigh. "I'm dealing with that, but now we have to deal with the fallout."
"Mr. De La Rosa," Linette's nasally voice interrupts as he pokes her head around the corner. "One minute."
"Thank you, Linette."
His hands mercifully fall away from my shoulders, and he straightens his jacket and then pivots to check his reflection in a mirrored panel on the wall.
"Are you able to stay after the conference?" he asks me, smoothing a hand over his trimmed beard. "I'd like to speak to you about next steps."
"Next steps?"
Another sigh. "Yes, things may have to change, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure those changes happen on your terms."
The words should be reassuring, but they’re not.
Because I’m starting to understand that with Ambrose, there are no terms but his. He sure does like to give the illusion of choice, though.
My throat goes dry, trying to imagine what he might mean by things changing. We've gone over several possibilities for what Ambrose will want now that this secret is out, but I still don't know, and if I don't know, then I can't plan how I should respond.
The mask I've been wearing can only do so much when things are this unsteady.
I can't just wear the mask for this to work. I have to be the mask.
I need to become Delilah De La Rosa.
"Aurora?"
I slip into that persona now, as best I can, and nod, biting my lip nervously, making Ambrose tsks at the anxiety I've made clear on my face, and he wraps me into an embrace that I willingly return.
"It'll be all right. Don't worry. I'll take care of everything."
I nod against his stiff jacket.
"It's time," Linette calls, and Ambrose shifts away, standing tall with a hand at the small of my back.
He nods.
I nod back.
We step out onto a raised stage in an event space, Ambrose leading me to where he wants me to stand, blocking my view from the clicking cameras and shouted inquiries from the crowd of reporters.
"Just here," he says, placing me like I'm a prop on the stage a little behind and to the right of the dais where he will make a formal announcement. I lift my chin and fumble with my fingers, not sure what to do with my hands. I settle for clasping them in front of myself.
"There," he says, but before he goes to the dais, his gaze snags on something on my neck, and he frowns.
I think he's found a bruise or a hickey or something equally horrific and look down, my stomach flipping.
His deft fingers lift the delicate chain of my necklace, adjusting it so the clasp rests at the back of my neck and the charm rests atop the dress rather than being hidden beneath the high neckline.
"Perfect," he mutters, and then tips my chin back up with a knuckle. "Don't forget to smile."
The second he moves out of the way, my eyes are blinded by the flash of cameras, and I realize I'm definitely not smiling way too late.
I try to save the moment, blinking against the assault of lights as I force a grin that I'm almost certain is going to come across as a grimace, but there's nothing I can do about it.
The flashes slow, becoming more intermittent as soon as Ambrose begins to speak.
I can't see shit through all the bright spots crowding my vision like starbursts and Ambrose barely gets a greeting out before the reporters start to lobby their questions.
The feedback from his mic needles into my ears, and I wince, trying to maintain my smile through the conference.
Between the thudding in my temples and the ringing in my ears, I can barely hear their questions or Ambrose's answers, and I'm so fucking glad this is televised so the guys can get whatever information they need from this without me having to remember a damn thing.
When I remember they're watching, it's easier to mentally slap myself into behaving naturally.
I don't need them worrying, and the more at ease I look, the more at ease they'll be with my being here.
By the time Linette comes to escort me from the stage, my knees are stiff, and my fingers are numb from clasping them together for so long. Reporters shout after me for comment, but I hear Ambrose politely, though firmly, request that they respect my privacy during this time.
As if I'm some celebrity grieving the death of a loved one instead of an implanted spy who lost any sense of privacy for the foreseeable future.
Atticus already had me remove the SIM and smash the burner phone as soon as I got home.
I gave it to Céline to get rid of in some public trash bin somewhere since no one's watching her.
It's too risky to have it. From here on, I have only a set of carefully memorized instructions on how I should get hold of the guys in an emergency.
If it's not life or death, I can only use the messaging system on Rover for Céline to pass along a message or talk with Alfie, the 'expat' I teach English to twice a week, who is actually Elijah.
Other than that, I have my objectives, several leads on where to start, and I'm forbidden from ever going back to the laundromat. Too many eyes would follow me.
"You did great," Linette tells me as Ambrose catches up with us from the conference room. He rushes ahead of Linette to get to the door to a more intimate boardroom, which is thankfully empty.
With the shades pulled, it's dim and quiet. It should be a relief after the chaos of the press announcements, but when Linette closes the door, sealing me in with her and Ambrose, it's anything but.
"Please, sit." Ambrose pulls out the nearest high-backed black chair for me, and I fold myself into it as Linette takes the seat opposite me at the table, and Ambrose the one directly to my right.
Linette taps something on her tablet and folds out some kind of stand for it, intently focused on whatever she's doing on the screen as Ambrose draws my attention back to him by swiveling our chairs to face one another.
"Now, I'm going to ask something," he begins, and my blood chills. "And you can say no, and that's fine. But I want you to consider it."
He watches my throat bob.
"I'd like you to reconsider my offer. Come to my estate in Spain. Just for the week. Until my team can get things under control and the press dies down. I know you have classes and a life here and with any luck, you can return to it very soon if that's still what you want, but—"
"Okay," I say, interrupting him. This is what we wanted. Exactly what we thought he would offer. And it's what I would have offered him if this didn't happen. The whole plan was for me to contact him and accept his original offer to see the home where I was born.
This just speeds up the timeline.
He reels back, surprise morphing to genuine excitement on his face. "Okay? You'll come?"
"You didn't see my apartment," I mutter with a hollow laugh. "It was swarming with reporters. I can't…I can't go back to that."
Ambrose leans over his knees, and something in his eyes sparks even though his expression is pinched. "I can't express how sorry I am for all this."
I let my gaze fall to the floor. "I guess it was bound to happen sometime."
"The jet can be ready by seven tomorrow morning," Linette says. "I'm having it flown here from Atlantic City as we speak."
"Could you be ready by then?" Ambrose asks, eyes crinkled. "Or if you'd rather stay here, I can have someone gather your things—your dog, what was her name? Ellie?"
I shake my head.
"She doesn't travel well."
It's a lie, Ellie loves long drives, but flying? I don't think any dog would actually enjoy that experience.
"I'll ask my dog sitter," I add before Ambrose can come up with some solution I'll only refuse. "She loves Ellie. I'm sure she'll watch her if it's only a week."
"And I can pay her," he offers. "If you send her details, I'll see to it she's well taken care of."
"Okay," I agree, even though I have no intention of sharing Céline's details with him. She's already being paid exceptionally well for her services by Atticus and I will not put her any more in Ambrose's crosshairs than she already is.
"Good, that's settled. Then you'll want to return to the apartment to collect your things?"
"I can arrange that," Linette pipes up, tapping on the screen of her tablet with a knot of concentration between her brows.
"I—I'm not sure what I need," I admit. The truth is, I brought everything I'll need with me in case of this circumstance.
No clothes, because that would've seemed odd.
But I brought the bag I usually wear to class.
It has my laptop, some school notes, my regular cell phone, a charger, and a USB stick that looks like the business depot kind, but can actually scrape a metric fuck ton of data from a computer by plugging it into a port. "Is it hot in Spain this time of year?"
Ambrose smirks. "How's this—we'll have Linette get everything you might need. You can take my penthouse suite here at the hotel, and I'll book another." He takes my hands, and I hope he doesn't notice how clammy mine are when he squeezes them. "Relax until morning. Let us take care of everything."
Linette's fingers drum even more rapidly on the screen of her tablet. "On it."
Holy fuck, this is really happening.
By tomorrow, I'll be in Spain.
I'll be closer than the guys have ever been to getting everything they ever wanted.
It's all in motion, I just have to say yes.
"Aurora, would that be all right?
Ambrose's brown eyes search mine, and in them, it's hard to find the villain beneath the concerned father staring back at me, even though I know he's in there.
"Yes."