Page 187 of New Storm Rising
A muscle in Mr Ambrose’s cheek twitched. “I go by Mr Rikkard Ambrose these days.”
The other man smirked. “I’m sure you do. You’ve come quite a long way.” He glanced at me. “A very, very,verylong way. I mean…you seem to be aware that she’s female. And you’repaying her wages. I mean, not that I’m a stranger to paying women for their services, but usually that involves—”
“Silence!”
“Ah, there’s the old Dick I know and don’t love, since I’m straight.” Tipping his hat, the man gave another smirk, and made his way to the door. “Been a pleasure working with you again. But now I gotta go. Seems like your friend, Angleton, is getting back control of his faculties. Call me crazy, but I’d rather not be here when that happens.”
And, tossing his cigarette into a nearby vase, he strode out of the bar.
As for sweet little me?
I captured Mr Ambrose’s arm in my grip before he could escape, my eyes glittering with determination that would make the strongest of men quiver in his boots. “Well, well…one never ceases to learn. Now, why don’t you tell me all about your friend, and what the two of you got up to in your youth?”
Mrs Ambrose’s Method of Information Gathering
It was official: I had completely underestimated Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s ability to keep his mouth shut. I spent the rest of the day trying to pry information about his past adventures out of him, and as a result got absolutely nothing whatsoever. Which made me realize an interesting and, in hindsight, glaringly obvious fact: I knew nothing whatsoever about the man I had married.
Zilch.
Nada.
What did he get up to all those years after he ran away from home? Did he have any more friends, fiends and minions I didn’t know of? And, most importantly of all, how the heck did he get from homeless runaway to bloody richest business mogul of the entire world?
I decided it was about time I had a lengthy talk with my darling husband. And what was the best kind of talk to have with your husband?
You guessed it. Pillow talk.
“So…”
It was late at night. We had withdrawn to our hotel room, and the lights were turned down to a low, romantic glow, so Mr Ambrose wouldn’t have to pay for the extra gas. Sometimes, it was really amazing to have a stingy husband. Slowly, I approached him from behind, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve noticed you never really told me about your past adventures, dear.”
“Indeed?”
“Oh yes indeed, Sir.”
“Hm…well, if that’s the case…”
“Yes?”
“…why do you think I would suddenly give in now?”
Dammit! Blasted son of a bachelor!
“Come on! Just a little hint?”
He didn’t move an inch. “For what reason would I possibly spill secrets to you that are better left unspoken?”
“Well…” I smiled, sliding my arms around him from behind. “Why don’t you turn around and let me show you?”
I felt his shoulders tense. “And what could you possibly show me that could convince me to—”
That was when he turned around.
Just in time to see me slip my blouse from my shoulders.
“Ng!” Mr Ambrose said.
