Six Years Later, He's My Boss

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The insistent buzzing of her phone was what dragged Ambelyn from the first decent sleep she'd had in months, a sleep that she was not ready to let go of, anytime soon.

She groaned and rolled toward the edge of the narrow hotel bed, her body protesting the residual pain from the unfamiliar mattress. Her hand fumbled across the cheap cricket rotting nightstand, knocking over a plastic cup before finally closing around her phone. The screen's harsh light made her squint as she registered the caller ID: Wednesday Ashford.

Wednesday. Her college roommate. The one person who had somehow remained in her life despite Thomas's best efforts to isolate her completely from her past and keep her in his house like an exotic bird on a gilded cage.

Ambelyn accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Finally!" Wednesday's voice came through filled with exaggerated exasperation. "I've been calling for the past twenty minutes. Where are you? I'm at your place and there's no one home. We were supposed to meet before I left for Malibu, remember?"

The hotel room came into focus around Ambelyn, as she realized where she was and what led to this moment—the water-stained ceiling, the faded curtains, the suitcases still packed by the door. Reality crashed back over her in waves, as she took a deep breath, trying to work through her confusing feelings. The divorce. The confrontation. Niklaus in the backseat of that car. Everything had happened so fast that she hadn't even thought to call Wednesday and cancel their plans.

"I'm not at the house," Ambelyn said, her voice still rough with sleep. She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Seven-thirty in the morning. "I'm... it's complicated, Wed. I'm at a hotel."

"A hotel? What do you mean you're at a hotel?" There was genuine concern in Wednesday's voice now, the exasperation fading, as concern was replacing it, although she was trying her best not to sound panicked.

"Ambelyn, what's going on? Are you okay?"

Ambelyn sat up slowly, pressing her free hand against her forehead where a headache was beginning to form. How could she possibly explain the last twenty-four hours? Where would she even start?

"I need to tell you something," she began. "Actually, I need to tell you a lot of things. And I know this is terrible timing because you're about to leave, but—"

"Forget Malibu," Wednesday interrupted, immediately already preparing to come and find Amberlyn. "Tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you right now."

"No, Wed, you don't have to—"

"Address. Now."

There was no arguing with Wednesday when she used that tone. Ambelyn recited the hotel's location, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment at the same time that Wednesday was coming to find her at this run down hotel. A hotel that Wednesday wouldn't be caught dead in.

Wednesday was the kind of person who drove a BMW and wore designer labels even to the grocery store. The thought of her showing up at this run-down place made Ambelyn's cheeks burn with shame.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Wednesday said, her tone clar and urgent. "Don't go anywhere."

The line went dead before Ambelyn could respond to that. She set the phone down and looked around the dingy hotel room, suddenly seeing it through Wednesday's eyes. The peeling wallpaper. The suspicious stains on the carpet. The faint smell of cigarette smoke that no amount of air freshener could quite mask.

This was what her life had become. This was where five years of marriage to Thomas Blackwood had led her.

Ambelyn forced herself out of bed and into the tiny bathroom. The mirror showed her a woman she barely recognized—hollow-eyed, with her dark hair tangled and her face pale with exhaustion and dimmed hope. She looked like someone who was down to her last tethers and had no idea how to turn her life around. She splashed cold water on her face and tried to finger-comb her hair into something presentable.

She had just changed into clean clothes when she heard the distinctive sound of Wednesday's BMW pulling into the parking lot. Ambelyn grabbed her purse and headed outside, squinting in the morning sunlight.

Wednesday was already out of her car, staring at the hotel with undisguised horror. She wore white linen pants and a silk blouse that probably cost more than a month's stay at this place. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back in an elegant ponytail, and her designer sunglasses caught the light as she turned toward Ambelyn.

"This is where you spent the night?" Wednesday's voice was carefully controlled, but Ambelyn could hear the fury underneath, but Wednesday was keeping it on a leash until she had more contex for this nightmare unfolding.

"Ambelyn Moreau, what the hell is going on?"

"Can we talk in your car?" Ambelyn asked quietly, aware of the other hotel guests who were starting to emerge for the day. "Please?"

Wednesday's expression softened slightly. "Of course. Get in."

The interior of the BMW was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the humid morning air. Wednesday didn't start the engine. Instead, she turned in her seat and fixed Ambelyn with the kind of penetrating stare that had earned her a reputation as one of the city's most formidable corporate lawyers, model, fashion designer and entrepreneur and billionaire heiress to an old money family line.

"Talk to me," she said simply.

So Ambelyn talked. She told Wednesday everything—about Thomas giving Iniko's heart to Lucas, about the confrontation at Eleanor's estate, about signing the divorce papers and walking out. She told her about being picked up in the rain by Niklaus's mother, about the job interview in two days, about having nowhere to go and nothing to fall back on.

She didn't mention the history with Niklaus. Some things were still too raw, too complicated to share even with her closest friend.

By the time she finished, Wednesday's knuckles were white where she gripped the steering wheel.

"That bastard," Wednesday breathed. "That absolute bastard. I always knew Thomas was cruel, but this—stealing a heart transplant from his own son? What kind of monster does that?"