12. Ember

12

EMBER

I walked into the Foster Real Estate building for the first time as an employee, and I felt like I might hurl.

It wasn't until I was already inside that I realized how damn nervous I was about everything—from my outfit choice to whether this was all one huge mistake. Sure, petty but divinely justified revenge on your ex sounds all well and good in theory, but now?

I was actually doing this. I was taking a job for Orion Foster under false pretenses, hiding the fact that I was working for Cole Northman, one of his biggest rivals, and it all suddenly felt way too real.

I took a couple deep breaths, decided not to hurl—I was on a budget, after all, and throwing up would mean completely wasting my delicious breakfast.

After much debate with Catman, I eventually decided on a simple pencil skirt, flowy white blouse, pearl necklace, and heels that pinched my toes but made my calves look amazing. I was aiming for "average employee" but worried I may have landed closer to “girl who is trying too hard on her first day.”

I hated starting new jobs and not knowing what the hell I was supposed to wear.

The girl at reception gave me a long, suspicious look once I gave her my name and said I was a new hire. Eventually, she tapped away at her keyboard to make my badge, briefly lifting her eyes to me. "Do I recognize you from somewhere?"

"Uhh, nope," I said, trying for my most innocent smile. With my hair pulled back in a very professional ponytail and this outfit, I hoped none of them would connect me to the "hate notes girl" who'd harassed their boss for weeks. But if anyone was going to recognize me, it was probably a woman who worked on the first floor where I had made a spectacle almost every morning for weeks. "I guess I just have one of those faces."

"Hmm," she said, clearly unconvinced.

After getting my badge and directions to the 31st floor, I caught snippets of conversation in the elevator that made me feel like I'd somehow time-traveled back to high school.

"Another one of Moira's girls..."

"Wonder how long this one will last."

I stood a little straighter and shot the gossiping pair my best "I can hear you" glare. They at least had the decency to look embarrassed, shuffling closer to their corner of the elevator.

"Hi," I said, sticking out my hand. "I'm Ember Hartwell. I'll be working with Moira in client relations."

One of the women looked at my hand like it might bite her.

Okay, maybe it was a little sweaty. Sue me for being nervous.

"Good luck," she said with a grimace that suggested I'd need it.

They got off on the 25th floor, and I heard them burst into giggles as soon as they thought they were out of earshot.

Great. Making first impressions already. Quality didn't matter, right?

The elevator opened to the 31st floor, revealing the familiar office space I'd seen Mr. Foster disappear into every morning. The main area was open concept with private offices around the edges, and people moved around like extremely serious bees, all apparently too busy and important to make eye contact.

I was still taking it in when I heard the click-click-click of approaching heels.

A woman wearing a tight black dress, black eyeliner, black eyeshadow, and lipstick so dark it was almost purple came toward me.

Vampire.

The thought was ridiculous, but I would have challenged anyone to look at her and not immediately think the same thing.

She stopped in front of me, towering at least six inches over me in her heels as she examined my badge. "Ember Hartwell," she said in a deep, husky voice. "I'm Moira. Come with me."

Moira either didn't see or didn't care about my extended hand before she turned and led me deeper into the office. More whispers followed us as we passed people at their computers, by the printers, and clustered around the coffee machine with stacks of papers under their arms.

I responded to each bit of gossip with my brightest smile, determined to make them feel at least a little guilty about their middle-school behavior. I kept my spine straight and shoulders back, but I had to admit the general aura of judgment was already starting to wear on me.

Moira led me through a narrow hallway, around a corner, and then to what I'm pretty sure used to be a janitor's closet. Actually... there was still a puddle of water on the concrete floor beneath my torn rolling chair.

Moira gestured to the desk. "This is your workstation."

"Oh," I said, aiming for cheerful. "It's nice and private. Nobody will bother me back here. Or hear me scream..."

"What was that?" Moira asked.

"Nothing!" I chirped, determined not to cause problems on day one. Who cared if I was working out of a janitor's closet? Who cared if everybody had apparently decided to either hate me or write me off as dead before lunch?

"Mr. Foster... insisted that I put you here," Moira said with the first hint of humanity in her tone. "I know it's unorthodox, but it's best not to question him. You'll either learn that fast or you'll be fired. That's just the way it is around here. So... make the best of it."

"Okay," I said. "So what does a member of your client relations team do around here, anyway?"

Moira actually softened a little once she began explaining my tasks and duties. Maybe my eager disposition helped her see I wasn't going to be a pain in her ass, or maybe the general aura of oppression in this place just had her in its clutches before.

From the sounds of it, I would start small for the first few days—mostly sending practice replies to clients based on a reference manual Moira would supply me. I'd look up their questions or concerns, research it in the reference book, and do my best to personalize the response. Someone would review my work before it was allowed to be sent out until they were sure I could be trusted with the task. Once I had that down, my responsibilities would gradually increase.

Simple enough.

"And, um," Moira said after explaining how to get signed in and access the email. "We take lunch around noon. It's best if you bring your lunch to your desk, though. Mr. Foster doesn't like it when employees leave for lunch or take too long to eat. You may need to order delivery if you didn't bring something."

"He expects people to just... stay here all day? Really?"

Moira looked slightly uncomfortable. "There are easy ways to get in his good graces. We've all found taking the easy wins when we can get them to be the wisest approach. There's... more, but I don't want to overwhelm you."

"Okay," I said slowly, even though the obstinate part of me was already bouncing around for release. I didn't want to cause problems, but I loved my lunch breaks. I loved food, period. I wasn't sure I could abide by this whole chained-to-my-desk thing…

"By the way," Moira said before leaving. "How did you get this job?"

I nearly choked on thin air. "Pardon?"

"Mr. Foster doesn't just thrust people onto my team. They're typically promoted from within over a long period of time. If you noticed some animosity, that would be why. Client relations is one of the most sought-after positions at Foster Real Estate. People view your hiring as a kind of jumping in line."

"Oh," I said. "Um. He asked me not to talk about it."

Moira folded her arms, eyes narrowed. "Alright," she said after a few uncomfortable seconds. "If you have any questions, keep them to yourself until tomorrow."

I smiled. "Oh, just one thing. Nobody has talked to me about a salary or showed me an official?—"

Moira was already walking off before I could finish my sentence.

Okay. Maybe she hadn't completely softened on me. I'd just have to ask about that tomorrow, but I was deeply curious to know what I was getting paid for this. Maybe I should've negotiated salary when Orion offered me the job and his lips were still wet from my tongue.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the memory. I knew Orion Foster was seen as a bad boss by his employees and I could've guessed he was generally unapproachable.

I didn't realize it was this bad, though.

His presence seemed to hang over the entire building like a dark cloud—as if he was the dark lord looming over his kingdom, untouchable and unseen on a high tower shrouded by stormclouds.

And damn it. I had always thought tyrannical dark lord types were frustratingly hot.

It was fine, though. From the looks of things, I was hardly even going to see the man during my average work day. That was probably for the best. I got what I needed from him, and now I could just... toil away in this little janitor's closet while all the other employees hate me and Orion ignores me.

With a sigh, I got started.

Despite my cynicism, I actually found the work satisfying. My inbox was full of such a complete range of complaints and questions I was fairly sure they were phony emails crafted for training purposes. But I didn't care. I still pulled out the bible-sized reference book and set to work.

If somebody asked whether they would be discounted for a project that went beyond the expected completion date, there was a reference section for that. If they wanted an update on their project, there was an online reference page I could check with information that was refreshed daily. If they were angry at Mr. Foster, there was a simple, surprisingly humorous page suggesting I earn my salary and find a way to smooth things over myself.

It was fun because I felt like I was good at it. I liked the challenge of using the company-provided facts and details but the necessity to craft a diplomatic, friendly reply.

Things were going smoothly for a few hours until my stomach growled.

I hadn't brought food, and I didn't have the money to order delivery.

But Mr. Foster would have to see me leaving to take lunch to get upset with me, right?

I stood, turned, and then my stomach dropped. There was a camera that looked brand new, and it was mounted directly behind my desk within the little janitor's closet. I hadn’t even noticed it until that moment, and quickly hoped I hadn’t done anything too embarrassing when I thought I wasn’t being observed.

I slid my chair closer, stood precariously on my heels, and brought my face within inches of the camera. "Orion? Are you watching me with that thing?"

I glared at the lens, unsure what else to do until I heard a chime from my computer.

I nearly fell off the chair, but caught myself, sat, and scooted back to my desk to check. It was an email from Orion.

Ember,

Do not stand on your chair. You could get hurt.

Mr. Foster.

I looked at the screen for several seconds, then turned toward the camera. "What will you do if I put tape over your creepy little camera? What if I don't want to be recorded?"

There was another chime a few seconds later.

Ember,

There are cameras throughout the entire office. I added this one when your desk was put in. You are not special.

Mr. Foster.

I let my jaw hang in indignant annoyance. "And yet you're sitting in your office listening to my audio?"

I waited a long time, but no chime came. I stood, straightened my blouse, and looked up at the camera. "I'm going to go get lunch. Outside the building." I blew a kiss toward the camera just to be obnoxious and stormed out of the room.

My angry exit was less dramatic than I hoped because I got a little lost trying to find my way back to the elevators.

When I finally did, I stalked past desks where people sat and forked food into their mouths like they were being timed. A few of them gaped at me as I headed for the elevator. I heard more whispers and gossipy snippets of conversation but ignored them this time.

"I’m heading out for my lunch break. If anyone needs me, I’ll be back in an hour,” I said to nobody in particular.

The stunned expressions and slack jaws were almost worth the hell I was probably about to bring down upon myself with this little stunt.