Chapter 51 #2
"We have a skeleton staff at the moment since I've been spending most of my time overseas," Ambrose explains, hanging his jacket on a hook and then holding a hand out for mine.
Quickly, I pluck my phone from its pocket and hand it to him.
"Oh, that won't work here," he says offhandedly, like he didn't drive another nail into my coffin. "No service."
Sure enough, when I tap the screen, I can see the little SOS symbol lighting up the corner where there should be bars.
"Being so remote, we have a satellite system here for connectivity. I'll have someone from my staff get you connected in the morning."
Remote…
…no service.
I've been here before.
And I know exactly what happens when I connect to Ambrose's cellular network.
He'll be able to see everything I do on my phone.
"I should really let my dog sitter know I've arrived. I want to make sure Ellie's okay."
His brows rise. "Of course. In that case, I'll send someone up right away for you."
My sigh is audible. "Thanks."
"This way." He gestures as the driver enters behind us with all of our things.
I want to ask for my bag now, but I don't want to seem overly concerned about it, so I clench my teeth against the request and stay quiet instead, following Ambrose deeper into the estate.
We pass through a large sitting room and a formal dining room, with Ambrose narrating as we go.
"There's a powder room here off the main dining room." He indicates a narrow corridor. "And the kitchen is back through there." He points down the next hall we pass. "But my staff can get you anything you might need. I've had them install a concierge phone in your room."
As we continue toward another wide space with a grand staircase leading to the second floor, he gestures to an arched opening on our right. Through it, I see stacks of books and glimpse a double-doored entry farther in, with frosted glass in the panes of the doors.
"My appointments are away from the estate tomorrow afternoon, but my office is through the library there, and it's where you'll find me most afternoons while you're here."
Jackpot.
As we ascend the stairs, my skin prickles, the familiarity of them hitting me like a slap.
I stop and look down at the marble floor below.
When Ambrose notices I've paused, he stops, too, following my gaze. "Do you remember?"
I wrap my arms around myself, cold. "Remember?"
"You fell down these stairs when you were barely two."
"I did?"
"It was awful," he murmurs. "No broken bones, thank god, but you split your lip. There was so much blood. I had to hold you for hours before you calmed down."
At his words, I run the tip of my tongue over the raised scar on the inside of my lower lip. It's always been there, but I couldn't remember how I got it.
My throat burns, and I clear it to get control of myself.
"No," I lie, shrugging. "I can't remember."
"That's probably for the best," he replies, continuing up the stairs and down a wide hallway to the right.
"This was your mother's space," he explains.
"We had our shared bedroom, of course, but she demanded her own as well.
Down near the end is her private sitting room, her bedroom, dressing rooms, and a terrace overlooking the sea.
But this—" He wraps his hand around the brass handle of the first door. "This was your room."
The door sweeps open, and I'm not sure what I expected, maybe a crib or one of those short little toddler beds, but there's none of that here.
"I've had it updated, of course."
But there are still echoes of what this room was not long ago. The delicate floral wallpaper in pretty blush hues. The short built-in dressers along the left wall. The soft ivory velvet curtains. The small rocking chair in the corner with a smiling doll atop it.
It's clear he had a new bed and nightstand moved in—fit for an adult—but it's still like a child's room.
I don't recognize it, and I don't realize I'm chewing my lip until he speaks. "Until morning, then?"
"Right. See you in the morning."
As he passes me, he surprises me by leaning down to lay a soft kiss on my cheek. I stiffen and hope he doesn't notice as he walks out the door.
I kill time by exploring the room in his absence, covertly checking for any sign of cameras or listening devices like Atticus taught me, but even though I don't find any, it doesn't mean there are none.
Despite everything, I still believe it's possible that Ambrose is genuinely glad to have found me. Glad to have me here.
Once I'm safely ensconced in the adjoining bathroom, I do a more thorough search of my bra and the inside of the dress, but the device is definitely gone. I can only hope it fell out somewhere Ambrose's team won't find it.
I can't worry about that right now, though. Right now, the issue is that the guys have no fucking idea where I am and are probably freaking out.
Fifteen minutes later, there's a soft knock at the door, and I sound a little too eager when I call for them to enter.
It's not the driver from earlier, but a different man. He wears a tailored suit and has my Louis Vuitton trunk with my backpack sitting atop it in his hand.
"May I enter, miss?"
His Spanish accent is heavy, but I'm glad he can speak English, since even though the little Duolingo owl says I'm at a level twelve, I know I'm nowhere near conversational.
"Yes, please, come in."
He's not even finished wheeling my things to the closet before I'm up and over to him. "Ambrose said you can connect my phone?"
I push it toward him, and he takes it with only mild surprise at my impatience.
"Yes, miss. One moment."
His one moment lasts a lifetime, but eventually he hands my phone back, and it pings immediately with a notification from the Rover app, and my stomach squeezes.
I struggle to latch on to anything else he says as I rush him from the room, barely catching that his name is Santiago. Once the door is shut and locked behind him, I open the Rover app to open the messages.
Céce
Hope you had a nice flight!
Let me know once your return travel plans are arranged.
I couldn't find Ellie's chicken toy. Do you know where it might be?
How's the villa?
Fuck.
From the time stamps, the last two messages were sent in the last hour, when I imagine Atticus finally broke down and couldn't wait any longer for a response.
I know there's a chance someone could be monitoring my device like Atticus did when I first connected to their Wi-Fi at the cabin. So I don't start typing a single word until I know exactly what I want to say.