I watched the rail-thin woman in her sixties read Orion a few notes. Surprisingly, he stood tall and let her read them with the faintest smile on his lips the whole time, almost as if he was enjoying seeing her demean herself.

  But unlike when I first watched his hate note routine, the stack of cards had dwindled dramatically in size. Now, he was only getting two or three per day, if that.

  I smiled, mostly because I was totally checking out Orion in his suit and thinking how this video had only been taken half an hour before he called me into his office and started our little email arrangement. It made me wonder if he was thinking of me, even then.

  I chewed my lip and curled up with the video. Once it finished, I started it over to watch just one more time.

  23

  ORION

  "You're staring again," Remmy said, appearing at my elbow with two glasses of champagne. She handed me one, grinning. "That's the third time in ten minutes. I counted."

  Most years, I had to practically beg Remmy to attend these events. Most years, I did beg her because her presence helped me feel more at ease in the social chaos. Remmy always teased that she loved coming, but loved hearing me beg even more.

  This year, she hadn't even waited to be asked, and I was fairly sure I knew why. My little sister had a keen eye and seemed to know I was infatuated with Ember.

  "I'm observing my employee's networking skills," I said stiffly.

  "Uh-huh. And I'm sure that's why you keep looking at her like she's water in the desert." She bumped my shoulder playfully. "Mom's thrilled, by the way. She thinks Ember's perfect for you."

  "There's nothing between us," I said automatically, though the thought of our nightly exchanges made heat crawl up my neck.

  "Right. Just like there was nothing between you at the art gallery? Or at dinner?" She raised an eyebrow. "I saw how you looked at each other that night."

  "Remmy—"

  "No, listen." Her voice softened. "You know, it's okay to want something for yourself sometimes, Ry. Dad wouldn't have wanted you to spend your whole life just... providing for everyone else."

  I tightened my grip on my glass. "The company⁠—"

  "Will still be there if you take a chance on being happy." She touched my arm. "I remember how you were after Dad died. How you started wearing his old ties even though they were too big. How you insisted on paying the bills even though Mom had it covered. You were twelve, Orion. And now you’ve given me and mom so much security it’s silly. But when will it be enough? When can you finally relax and think about yourself?”

  “Someone had to step up,” I said, ignoring most of her points.

  Remmy gave me a look that said she knew I was being evasive, but didn’t press me on it. “You did. You always do,” she added with a sad smile. "But we're okay now. Mom and I are okay. Maybe it's time you let yourself be okay too."

  Before I could respond, a familiar and unwelcome voice cut through the crowd.

  "Orion Foster," Cole Northman said, striding over with his usual smug smile. "Quite the party. Though I expected nothing less from Manhattan's most... rigid CEO."

  A young woman in a designer dress preened at his side. She met my eyes and seemed to push her chest out, as if daring me to look.

  I kept my gaze on Cole.

  "Northman," I said coldly. "I wasn't aware you were invited."

  "Oh, I donated generously to the cause. Cancer research, isn't it? Very noble." His eyes drifted to where Ember stood, and something in his expression made my jaw clench. "I see you hired new talent."

  "Miss Hartwell has been an excellent addition to our team," I said carefully.

  "I'm sure she has." There was something knowing in his tone that I didn't like. "She has a way of... getting close to people. Wouldn't you agree?"

  Every muscle in my body tensed. "Is there something specific you'd like to say?"

  "Not at all." He raised his glass in a mock toast. "To new beginnings. And old endings."

  As he walked away with the young woman, Remmy let out a low whistle. "Well, he's creepy. Did you see how he was looking at Ember?"

  I had. And I didn't like it one bit.

  "Excuse me," I said, already moving across the room.

  I found Ember just as she was finishing up with the investors. She'd managed to make the notoriously stuffy Harrison brothers actually laugh—something I hadn't seen in ten years of knowing them.

  She turned to me with a smile that made my chest ache. "Mr. Foster," she said, voice professional but eyes dancing. "Enjoying the party?"

  "Walk with me?" I asked quietly.

  She followed me out onto the terrace, where the city lights sparkled below us like fallen stars. The night was chilly, and Ember shivered slightly as we leaned against the railing.

  Without thinking, I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at me with mingling surprise and something else I couldn't quite read. My jacket was too big on her, making her look small and somehow vulnerable. The sight did something strange to my heart.

  "I saw Cole talking to you," she said suddenly. "Did he... say anything?"

  "Just the usual posturing." I studied her face in the dim light. There was tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there before. "Is there something I should know?"

  She bit her lip, and for a moment I thought she might tell me something important. But then she forced a smile. "No, nothing. I just... I like working here. At Foster Real Estate. More than I expected to."

  Something in her words brought me back to our “work dinner.” I was reminded of the moment I nearly admitted to her that the goal was to inherit Davenport’s factories when he died and likely tear them down to build something new, no matter what we promised or agreed to do while he was alive.

  I knew Ember would hate me if she knew the truth, and I had been too much of a coward to come clean.

  “But?” I prompted.

  "But nothing." She pulled my jacket tighter around her shoulders. "I'm just not used to good things lasting, I guess."

  The vulnerability in her voice made me want to pull her close, consequences be damned. Instead, I gripped the terrace railing, remembering all the reasons I couldn't—shouldn't—complicate this further. She was my employee. The company had to come first. It always had.

  "Ember—"

  "Don't," she said softly. "Please don't say whatever you're about to say. Can we just... stay here for a minute? Just like this?"

  I nodded, and we stood in silence, watching the city below. She was close enough that I could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her beside me. Everything in me wanted to turn her around, press her against the railing, and kiss her until we both forgot why we shouldn't.

  But she was right. Some things were better left unsaid. Some lines were better left uncrossed.

  Even if crossing them felt inevitable. Eventually, she would find out why we were pursuing the Davenport contract. I knew the longer I waited, the worse that moment would be. And yet… it was like she said. Can we stay here for a minute. Just like this.

  I knew she meant on the terrace, but I found myself wanting to stay in this moment as well. This precarious point where neither of us had opened ourselves up emotionally, but we were taking our first, exploratory steps into something exciting and unfamiliar all the same.

  "You know," she said finally, "your mom told me something interesting earlier. About how you used to organize people's garages as a kid."

  I nodded. “She talks too much.”

  Her smile turned softer. "You were trying to take care of them, weren't you? Even then."

  Something in my chest constricted. "It's not as noble as that. I've just... always had a talent for seeing how things should fit together. Order. I find it comforting and safe, so I guess I got very good at creating it, even in the middle of chaos. Organizing garages, cleaning up inefficient business practices, putting together the correct team of employees for a task... It's all just creating order out of chaos."

  "It's more than that. It's people. You act like you are allergic to them, but you understand them more than you admit."

  "Maybe. But I also understand letting people get close is a chaos of its own. Employees who fear me are predictable pieces of the puzzle. I know how they're going to act in a given situation."

  Ember frowned. "But what if the most perfect version of your company isn't perfectly ordered? What if the best Foster Real Estate is a little crazy and unpredictable? What if that one employee coming out of their shell in an important meeting makes a client see us as more human?"

  I couldn't help smiling. "You never fail to surprise me, Miss Hartwell."

  She licked her lips, reminding me how soft and supple they were as she stood in my oversized jacket. Her eyes seemed impossibly large as she looked up at me with the lights of the city twinkling in them against the darkness. "But you don't like surprises," she breathed. "Surprises are unpredictable. They're a form of chaos, right?"

  "Maybe you're teaching me the benefits of a little chaos. Of the occasional surprise," I added in a lower, softer voice.

  I wasn't sure which one of us stepped closer, but she was suddenly close enough that I could feel how cold she was. I instinctively reached inside the jacket to wrap my arms around her and hold her close. I knew there was a chance somebody from inside might see us, but I wasn't sure I cared.

  "We should really get you inside," I said, rubbing my hand in a circle on her lower back to provide some more warmth.

  "I like it right here," she said, face pressed against my chest.

  I did, too. I could have held her like this for hours, but I couldn't let her get any colder. "Ember..." I started, not sure what I was going to say.

  "Will you send me one of those emails tonight?" she asked quietly. "Because I'd really like you to."

  My whole body went white hot with arousal at her words. "I will. Yes." I held back a thousand questions I wanted to ask. Where did she touch herself when I emailed her? What did she wear? Did she use toys? Did she... ever moan my name?

  "Orion..." she said softly. "I keep thinking about how your mom said you've been trying to take care of everybody since you were a kid. And the thing I come back to is how tragic that is." She slid her arms around me and squeezed me tighter, pressing her face into my chest. "Everybody deserves to be taken care of sometimes. But if you’re always taking care of everybody else, do you ever stop to let someone take care of you?"

  The question hit harder than it should have. Before I could answer, the terrace doors opened and Roman stuck his head out. Ember and I reflexively took a huge step back from each other.

  "Sir?" Roman said, eyes darting between us with a knowing sparkle. He paused a meaningful moment, then continued. "The donors are ready for your speech."

  I nodded, straightening my tie. Inside, I could see the crowd gathering, could feel the weight of their expectations. This was who I was supposed to be—the composed, controlled CEO. Not someone who got distracted by warm eyes and gentle questions.

  "Miss Hartwell," I said seriously.

  "Mr. Foster," she said, mirroring my tone but flashing a flirtatious hint of a smile. She slipped off my jacket and handed it back, her fingers brushing mine. The contact sent electricity through my whole body.

  As I walked to the podium, I couldn't help glancing back at her. She stood at the edge of the crowd, still hugging herself slightly against the chill from outside. Our eyes met, and I saw something like regret flash across her face.

  I could still smell the faint scent of her perfume on my lapels and hear that question echoing in my mind.

  Do you ever stop to let someone take care of you?

  The answer, of course, was no one. That was how it had to be.

  Wasn't it?

  24

  EMBER

  My phone buzzed for the third time as I fumbled with my apartment key. I already knew who it was—Cole had been trying to reach me since I left the gala.

  "Not tonight," I muttered, finally getting my door open. I kicked off my heels and collapsed onto my couch, still wearing my emerald dress.

  Catman slinked into view, yawned, and then sat to study me. I could feel the judgment radiating off his wrinkly little body.

  "I know," I told him. "I'm in trouble."

  The kind of trouble that came from letting your boss hold you on a moonlit terrace while you wore his jacket. The kind that came from keeping secrets that could destroy everything you'd grown to care about.

  The kind that came from falling for someone you absolutely shouldn't.

  "Would it really be so bad if I fell for him, Catman?"

  Catman regarded me with his one-eyed wisdom. He gave a scratchy, soft meow.

  "Not that bad, then?" I prompted.

  He raised a paw and began to lick.

  That was the beautiful thing with cat-to-human communication. I was free to interpret Catman's weirdness in any way that happened to suit me. Then again, maybe that was why sane and rational people weren't supposed to have meaningful conversations with their cats.

  Thankfully, sane and rational was a highly overrated state of existence.

  My laptop chimed with an email notification. My heart rate immediately doubled, but when I checked, it wasn't from Orion. It was from Davenport:

  Dear Miss Hartwell,

  Would you be available to meet tomorrow? Bring that boss of yours if you can pry him away from his desk.

  Best,

  M. Davenport

  P.S. Eleanor Golding told me about your duck spreadsheet. I'd love to see it.

  I sat up straighter, excitement warring with dread. On one hand, Davenport wanting to meet was huge progress. On the other hand... Orion had been a disaster when I saw him interact with Davenport at Foster Real Estate the other week. After only one meeting, it was painfully clear that Orion and Davenport had little to no common ground on how they would approach the project.

  But I highly doubted Orion wanted to hear me explain how poorly he had handled the first meeting or take my advice on what to say for a second.

  I was chewing my nail as I wondered how the hell I was supposed to navigate the awkward situation when my phone buzzed again.

  This time it was Cole. Again. I hadn't brought myself to actually read any of the messages yet. With a sigh, I pulled them up and began to read.

  Cole: Foster seems to have a soft spot for you. Was that how you landed the job?

  Cole: I'm curious... did you promise to open your legs for him if he gave you the job? He doesn't deserve you. You know that, right?

  I cringed and vomited a little in my mouth when I saw the next text. It was a picture of Cole in his office and he was lifting his shirt to show his abs with an obnoxious grin on his face.

  Cole: Remember these? Kylie will be in Miami for a work event this weekend. We could have a little fun together while she's gone.

  Cole: Don't ignore me, Em. Remember who you really work for.

  If a case of "the ick" could be fatal, I might have dropped dead before I even finished reading all his texts. I could hardly believe I ever saw anything in Cole, and it still shook me to know he had fooled me.

  I had once gushed to Kora about how perfect he was for me after our second date—the one where he had apparently lied through his teeth to make it sound like we had so much in common. In retrospect, he had probably pulled a serial stalker move and gathered all of his information from my social media before our date.

  I deleted the texts, including his stupid picture, then tossed my phone a few feet away where it bounced off the couch and clattered to the ground.

  I pulled my knees to my chest on the couch and hugged them tight as I tried to pick my thoughts through the developing mess of my own creation.

  One thing was clear: I was not going to help Cole in any way, shape, or form. I may have accepted the job at Foster Real Estate under Cole's orders, but even when I thought of Orion Foster as a nameless bad guy, I hadn't even been sure I was willing to get any real dirt for Cole. The real goal had just been petty payback. I wanted to string him along with the promise that some dirt was coming for as long as I could. By the time he realized it wasn't coming, he would have hopefully been sending me paychecks for months.

  Better yet, he would be even more humiliated and pissed if I managed to drag out the arrangement for as long as possible.

  But I needed to find a way to tell Orion the truth. Worse, I probably needed to warn him that I had accidentally tipped Cole off about Davenport. Maybe it was nothing, considering we had the first crack at him, but I still knew I needed to tell Orion the truth.

  My stomach churned. I thought about Orion's arms around me, how safe I'd felt in that moment. How much I wanted to tell him everything.

  But I couldn't. Because the moment I did, I'd lose it all—the job I'd grown to love, the respect I'd earned, and most importantly, him. Then again, I wasn’t even sure how much of Orion Foster was available. I didn’t even know if he was for rent, lease-to-own, or available for full-blown emotional purchase.

  Another email notification made me jump. This time it was from Orion:

  Miss Hartwell,

  I trust you made it home safely. While reviewing some files, I found myself thinking about our conversation on the terrace.

  Regards,

  O. Foster

  I bit my lip, heart racing. Even his most innocent emails carried weight now. But before I could reply, my phone started ringing.

  Cole.

  I stared at his name on my screen, remembering how he'd looked at me at the gala. There had been something predatory in his eyes, something that said he knew exactly what game I was playing.

  "Enough," I whispered, then blocked his number.

  It wouldn't solve anything. He'd find other ways to contact me. But for tonight, I just wanted to reply to Orion's email and pretend, just for a little while, that everything was simple.

 

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