Is now the time to tell the guys what I've been thinking?
Atticus gives me a questioning look. "What is it?"
I shake my head. It's not the right time. Not yet. We need to at least try to see this through, if not for us then for my father.
"Nothing," I say, and watch Aurora's little blue dot ascend the elevator in the rendering of the building's blueprints Atticus has up on the other screen. "Don't worry about it."
24
BLOOD IN THE WATER
AURORA
Linette escorts me to one of the hotel's luxurious restaurants exactly twenty minutes after bringing me to my room. I know I'm underdressed before we're even over the threshold, but that's by design.
I could have brought something Elijah bought for me in Paris to wear, but an old, plain black skirt and a faded emerald long-sleeve blouse felt more like something this version of me would wear. Wanting to look like I put some effort in, but not nice enough to stand out.
The hostess looks leagues nicer than I do in the simple black zip-up dress that hugs her curves just right. Her nails and lashes are long, her hair glossy as she greets us warmly and Linette passes me off to her as if handing her a delicate gem.
"You'll bring her in, won't you?" Linette tells more than asks the hostess. "There's something I have to deal with."
"Of course, right this way, Miss Bellerose." The hostess, who wears no name tag, makes no secret of judging my outfit and general state of being. "The dress code is meant to be more formal, but since you'll be in the private dining room, it shouldn't be a problem."
"Oh, am I underdressed?"
She laughs nervously. "You're fine. It's through here. Mr. De La Rosa will be right with you, and your server should be along any minute. Is there anything I can get for you while you wait?"
I'msorelieved I'll have a few more minutes alone in a private space to compose myself that I tell her I'm fine so that she'll leave quicker when we get there.
"Great, here we are— Oh! Mr. De La Rosa, I didn't realize you'd already arrived."
Fuck. I stop dead in the hall behind the hostess, just shy of the open doorway to the private space.
"So sorry, I'd have sent a server back to?—"
"It's no trouble. I had some things to attend to. Is my guest with you?"
Hadn't Linette said something similar? About having something to deal with?
A prick of icy dread makes me shiver.
It doesn't mean anything. They don't know.
They don't know.
"Yes, she's—" The hostess pops back into the hall, giving me a confused look. "It's in here, ma'am."
Ma'am? She's, what, two, three years older than me?
Steeling myself, I remember that it's perfectly fine to appear nervous and walk sheepishly into the room.
The man sitting at the table stands when he sees me, buttoning his jacket.
I've seen photos of him. Many of them. But he's different in person.
Ambrose De La Rosa in three dimensions seems bigger, taller. And there's something in his eyes that's softer than I expected. The muted brown shade is unassuming, not calculating and cold as I thought it would be. In all his photos, both online and in Atticus's dossier, he's been clean-shaven, butthe man in front of me is bearded. The short brown facial hair is groomed, with the mustache part a bit longer than the rest. And while there's a fair amount of silver in his dark hair, there doesn't seem to be any in his beard.
He doesn't look like an evil mastermind. He's good-looking in the aged way some men in their fifties can be. If it weren't for his strong nose, he'd almost be too pretty. I could see how a man like him would be able to charm his way into the Ashfords' lives.
