because I’d never been there before. Art hadn’t believed in taking his family to work. I suspected it would be actually seeing Ambrose that’d do it.
I paid the driver and went inside. A prim-looking woman with frosted hair and horn-rimmed glasses sat behind the welcome desk, and she gave me a tight, polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I’d met women like her before. She might’ve been a great secretary or administrator or whatever her title was, but she wore it like a badge of honor rather than a job. I had no doubt she considered herself a gatekeeper of sorts, the person who was in charge of who got to see her bosses.
“I have an appointment to see Ambrose Check.”
“Your name?”
“Josie Pryor.” Since Min had found me in New York, I assumed Ambrose knew the name I was using. The last thing I wanted was to give him a head’s up. For all I knew, he’d bolt if he heard Nyx Phoenix was here to see him.
“Have a seat, Ms. Pryor. Mr. Check is currently on a call.”
I had no doubt the Mr. Check was meant for me since I’d said Ambrose’s first name, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for a social call.
I moved away from the desk, but I didn’t bother sitting. I had too much nervous energy to be still. While I waited, I paced, moving from the picture on one wall to flip through the magazines in the rack. I’d done that about four or five times before the secretary called me over.
“Mr. Check will see you now.” She pointed down the corridor behind her. “He’s at the end of the hallway. Knock before you go in.”
I was tempted to give her a salute and a smart-ass comment, but I behaved. I wasn’t here to annoy the help.
I found his office easily enough, and the voice that told me to come in was one I recognized, even all these years later. As I reached for the doorknob, I waited for the familiar feel of the world shifting, dragging me down into the past, but it didn’t happen. I opened the door and stepped inside, hoping I wasn’t making an awful mistake.
His hair was grayer than the last time I’d seen him, and there was less of it too. When he raised his head, I saw a few more wrinkles, and then he stood up, just as stocky as he had been thirteen years ago. His eyes were the same muddy brown, and they widened as he recognized me.
“Delia?”
“Hi.” I closed the door behind me and came closer to the desk. “Mind if I call you Ambrose? I don’t think uncle has meant anything in a while.”
“I-I…uh…” He shook his head. “What are you–”
I held up a hand. “How about we fast forward past you trying to figure out what to say and go straight to me telling you why I’m here.”
He nodded and motioned to the chair across from him. I didn’t really want to sit, but I was honestly worried that I might hit him, and the last thing I needed was to go to jail on assault charges, especially with Bradyn so close. Too much might come out if that happened. I’d told him more than I’d ever told anyone else, but there were still things I’d kept to myself.
I sat, and Ambrose dropped into his seat like all the strength had gone out of his legs.
“What the hell are you up to, Ambrose?” I didn’t care how harsh my tone was. “Fucking around with my life? Sending one of your employees all the way to New York to mess with me?”
Ambrose’s jaw dropped. “No! That wasn’t what I was doin’ at all!”
“Then what were you doing?” My hands gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to make my fingers ache.
He pulled a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed it across his forehead. “I wanted to help you.”
A half scoff half snort escaped my throat. “Help me?”
“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” The words poured out of him, his accent as thick as ever. “Art messin’ with you…I should’ve known.”
I wanted to ask him why he should’ve known, but I didn’t. Maybe I’d come back to it, but right now, I just wanted to hear what he had to say while he wasn’t thinking much about the words. More people spilled secrets by accident when the person they were talking to was silent than they did