16. Orion

16

ORION

T he sound of laughter drifted from my mother's kitchen, making my jaw clench. Remmy and Ember were helping—or more likely hindering—Mom's lasagna preparation while I sat at the dining room table, pretending to check work emails.

"Oh my God," Ember's voice carried over. "He really did that?"

"Three times!" Mom said. "Every time we tried to take a family photo, little Orion would straighten his clip-on tie and demand we start over because his hair wasn't perfect."

"I was six," I muttered, though nobody was listening to me. The women in my kitchen were too busy trading stories about how “adorably neurotic” I was as a child.

More laughter. The kind that said there were probably embarrassing photos being passed around. I considered intervening, but the last time I'd gone into the kitchen, Remmy had tried to make me wear an apron covered in dancing vegetables. The time before that, Mom had asked Ember if she was single in a voice that suggested she was already planning our wedding.

So here I sat, definitely not listening to the women in my life conspiring against me.

"He was such a serious little boy," Mom continued. "When his father passed, Orion decided he had to be the man of the house. He was only twelve, but he started wearing a tie to school every day. Said he needed to look professional so people would take him seriously."

The laughter faded. I could feel Ember's eyes on me from the kitchen doorway, but I kept my gaze fixed on my phone, scrolling through emails I'd already read twice.

"After that," Mom's voice softened, "he put everything into making sure Remmy and I were taken care of. Even tried to get a paper route, but they said he was too young."

"So he started his own business instead," Remmy added. "Went door to door offering to organize people's garages. Can you believe that? What twelve-year-old thinks of that?"

"He made pretty good money, too," Mom said proudly. "Though I had to make him stop when Mrs. Henderson from three doors down started asking him to organize her bedroom."

"Mom," I warned, heat creeping up my neck.

"What? I'm just telling Ember about what a good son you've always been. And how you've always taken such good care of us."

“After the garage thing, Orion branched out into all kinds of little businesses. By the time he was sixteen, he had become involved in investing and day trading. At seventeen, he paid off mom’s mortgage.”

“And I still think about how amazing that is almost every day,” my mom gushed.

“Okay,” I said. “Ember doesn’t want to hear you two exaggerate and paint me as some boy genius of business.”

I finally looked up to find Ember watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. There was something soft in her eyes that made my chest feel tight. It was the same look she got sometimes at work when she thought I wasn't watching—like she was trying to figure out a particularly complex puzzle.

“I think it’s interesting,” Ember said softly. “Some people don’t make sense until you understand the dark places they won’t show.” She gave a shrug, as if trying to lighten the otherwise serious topic. “Maybe I can use this juicy information to earn a promotion somehow.”

“Ambitious, too!” my mom said, wiggling her brows at me. “This one’s a keeper, huh?”

"More wine?" Remmy asked, already refilling Ember's glass.

"Oh, I probably shouldn't..." Ember said, but she was already accepting the full glass. "I tend to get a little... honest when I drink too much."

"Perfect!" Mom said. "Maybe you can tell us what my son is really like at work. Does he still measure things with rulers?"

Ember's eyes went wide. "Who told you about the skirt incident?"

I nearly choked on my water. "That was a legitimate dress code violation."

"Sure it was, Mr. Boarding School Principal," Ember said with a grin.

"See?" Remmy stage-whispered to Ember. "He's doing that brooding thing again. Probably thinking about work. We need to get him to relax more."

"Some of us have responsibilities,” I said in a dry voice.

"Some of us have sticks up our—" Remmy started.

"Dinner's ready!" Mom announced.

Two hours and several bottles of wine later, Ember was trying—and failing—to convince everyone she was fine to get home on her own.

"I'll walk her," I said, already standing.

"Aww," Remmy cooed. "Look at my big brother being all gallant."

I shot her a look that promised retribution, but she just grinned.

"I can walk myself," Ember insisted, then promptly bumped into the coat rack, nearly knocked it over, caught it, and then she nearly fell over. The bumbling incident ended with Ember laughing and pretending to dance with the coat rack before both tipped into the wall with a thud.

“Oopsie,” Ember said softly as she unsteadily got herself upright and fixed the coat rack.

"You’re not walking yourself home. End of discussion," I said, steadying her with a hand on her lower back. The contact sent an inconvenient spark through my palm.

“Yes, Da—” Ember coughed suspiciously, cleared her throat, then continued. “Yes, Sir, Mr. Orion Sir.”

Mom and Remmy were watching with folded arms and knowing grins. I ignored them, ushering Ember out of my mom’s apartment before she could cause any more damage.

The walk to her apartment was... interesting. Ember apparently became even more talkative when drunk, filling the night air with observations and wild theories. "You know what's weird?" she slurred. "The stars. They're so... sparkly tonight. Did you do that?"

"No," I assured her as she leaned against me, one arm around my back for support. I was trying very hard not to enjoy the warmth of her pressed against my side. “I have no authority over the stars, Ember.”

"You know you have dimples when you smile?" she asked. "I saw you smiling once in your office. I bet someone told you they made an employee cry. Was that why you looked so happy?"

I grinned despite myself. "No."

"Well, whatever it was, they're nice. Your dimples. You should smile more. I bet people wouldn't think you were such a hardass if you did."

"I prefer when they think I'm intimidating," I said. "It's more efficient that way."

"Hmmm," Ember hummed. "But you don't intimidate me." She tilted her head up toward me, smiling drunkenly as she actually reached up to boop my nose. "Not even a little bit, Mr. Ruler-Man."

I cleared my throat. Focus. "Earlier," I said carefully. "You mentioned to my family that you tend to get honest when drunk. Any secrets you'd like to share while you’re feeling honest?"

"Oh, loads," she said, then laughed and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Like, I always forget if August comes before October or after September..."

"That's... not exactly what I meant."

"I know what you meant," she said, suddenly serious. "But a girl's gotta keep some mysteries, right?" Then she stumbled and giggled. "Oh! Here's one though—I think you have an amazing butt. Like, really amazing. I stop whatever I'm doing to watch when you walk past my desk. Sometimes, I think it looks so tight that I would get a black eye if I tripped and fell face first into that thing. But it’d be worth the pain ,” she added with a lecherous smile.

Damn it. I shouldn't be taking advantage of her state like this. "Alright," I said. "We need to get you home. Let’s pick up the pace."

"To my bed?" she asked with a suggestive wiggle of her brows. "You going to help me get undressed, Mr. Foster? Because I wore this little pink thing underneath that would probably give you a heart attack."

I couldn't help smiling a little. She would kill me if she remembered any of this. "No," I said carefully. "I have no plans to undress you."

"Your loss."

"Is this your building?"

"Yessir," she slurred. “Yes, Daddy,” she added with a giggle. Ember fumbled around her purse for several seconds, then made a pouty face and held it up to me, admitting defeat.

I met her eyes, then reached inside her mess of a purse and dug until I found a keycard. It let us through the front door. "Which floor?"

"Three... I think. Unless they moved it again."

We took the elevator and emerged into a dingy hallway where people had set out black trash bags beside their doors. The multi-colored carpet was stained in several places, and there was a distinct smell of mildew in the air.

My chest tightened. She lives somewhere like this?

I paid her well enough to live somewhere better, didn't I? Unless she had debts I didn't know about... Was that part of her secret?

With some prodding, I eventually got her to tell me which room was hers, even though she kept using a British accent and claiming she wouldn’t tell me unless I resorted to “tickle torture,” whatever that was.

When we reached her door, it took her three attempts to get the key in the lock.

"Here," I said, taking the keys. As I opened the door, something ancient and possibly undead wound between my legs with a raspy meow.

"Catman!" Ember exclaimed. "Did you miss me? This is Orion. He's my boss. But don't worry, he only looks mean. He's actually kind of sweet sometimes."

I found myself kneeling to scratch behind the cat's remaining ear before I could stop myself. To my surprise, he pushed into my hand and purred.

"He likes you," Ember said, swaying slightly. "He never likes anyone. Smart cat."

"I have that effect on cats," I said, thinking of Goblin.

"Just cats?" she asked, and there was something in her voice that made me look up.

She was leaning against the doorframe, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, and her hair had come slightly loose from its clip. She looked... soft. Touchable. Dangerous.

I stood quickly. "You should get some sleep."

"Mmkay," she agreed easily, then promptly tried to walk into the wall beside her door.

With a sigh, I guided her inside. Her apartment was tiny but neat, with books everywhere and a collection of… rocks? There were various colored gemstones, crystals, and shiny stones on display by her window. I glanced at them a little too long, wondering why learning that Ember Hartwell liked to collect rocks seemed so interesting to me.

"Bed," I said firmly, steering her toward what I hoped was her bedroom.

"You're kind of sweet when you want to be," she mumbled as I helped her sit on the edge of her bed. "Like with your mom and sister. And Catman. Too bad you're so... complicated."

"I'm your boss," I reminded her, but my voice came out softer than intended.

"I know," she sighed, already laying down fully clothed. "That's part of what makes it complicated. And mean bosses can be so hot, you know?"

“No,” I said. “I don’t.”

I pulled a throw blanket over her, trying not to notice how peaceful she looked or how my fingers itched to brush the hair from her face. I disappeared for a moment and rifled through her medicine cabinet until I found some aspirin. I filled a glass of water and set them both beside her on the bed.

"Get some rest," I said, noticing she had already kicked her feet out from under the blanket. With a reluctant sigh, I unstrapped her heels and set them beside her bed.

"Night, Orion," she murmured, already half asleep.

I paused at her door, watching her for a moment longer than I should have. "Goodnight, Ember."

Catman followed me to the front door, watching me with his one good eye as I locked up. Just before I left, I could have sworn the ancient creature gave me an approving nod.

Not that it mattered. She was still my employee. Still off limits. Still... complicated.

I headed home, telling myself the warmth in my chest was just from the wine at dinner.

I almost believed it.