"I have an apartment." The argument sounds weak even to my own ears. "And my classes."
He lifts a croissant from the platter and sets it on the smaller plate in front of him, brushing crumbs from his fingers onto the floor of the terrace with a wince. "That's the problem."
Whatis the problem?
My skin prickles, and I clasp my hands atop the table to remind myself to stay calm. This is just a conversation.
"I failed protecting your mother," he says, picking at the flaky surface of his croissant. "I don't want to make the same mistakes. I'm not surewhyyou didn't tell me what happened to your car?—"
"It was a stupid college prank," I supply, trying to diffuse the tension flexing in his jaw.
"Perhaps," Ambrose relents. "But I've been made aware of another incident involving the death of two male students at a party. A party I think you attended?"
I'm not supposed to know this, so I paint on a face I hope conveys the correct level of shock. "Was it an overdose?"
He shakes his head. "No, this appears to have been more violent in nature."
I shiver, picturing exactly howviolentlyAtticus and Seven dealt with Bailey and his friend.
"You can go to school anywhere else," Ambrose continues. "There are so many other more prestigious universities. Or better yet, you could accept my offer for private tutelage in any subject you choose."
There's a lump in my throat, and it's hard to swallow.
When Ambrose reaches over to lay his warm hand atop my clasped ones, I don't flinch, but the earnest way he's looking at me makes my chest squeeze.
"You're the only family I have left, Aurora. You can't fault me for wanting to do everything in my power to keep you safe."
I…I don't know what to say. My mind is one giant blank space and I know I need to say something, but I have no idea how to respond to this right now.
He pats my hands. "Think about it. There's no rush. We're here at least a week while things die down."
He lifts his wrist to check his watch and throws his napkin over the uneaten croissant on his plate.
"I'm so sorry," he says, rising from his seat. "I have a few meetings this week, and I'm about to be late for the first one."
"That's okay." I wave off his concern, hoping I don't seem as eager as I feel for him to leave. "I'll find something to do."
"Yes, great. Familiarize yourself with the estate, and Santiago will help you with anything you need."
Like a new adaptor for my laptop charger? I make a note to go and find him as soon as Ambrose leaves.
"Thanks."
"And think about my offer," he repeats again. "We can talk about it some more at dinner."
Can't wait.
54
STATIC
ATTICUS
The images she sent are corrupted.
I've run them through every software I have to try to fix them, but they're beyond repair. I try not let my mind spiral thinking about what it could mean. There's something I'm able to enable back at the cabin that acts similarly, not allowing guests to send image or video files.
I never had it enabled on Aurora's device, but we always turned it on when we brought women in previously. We couldn't have them taking photos of us or the cabin or surrounding property. It was an added safety measure. The fact Ambrose is using something similar doesn't necessarily mean he's trying to stop Aurora from sending images. He may not allowanyoneto send images from the property.
