20. Ember

20

EMBER

" T his is not a date," I told my reflection for the tenth time as I agonized over my outfit choice. "It's just a totally normal, completely professional dinner with my unfairly attractive boss whom I definitely do not have feelings for. At all."

Catman, lounging on my bed, gave me a look that said "keep telling yourself that". Sometimes I swore he had the same judgmental stare as my mother - the one she'd perfected during my "troubled" boarding school years. I could almost hear her voice, even now.

"Emily Marie Hartwell, what exactly do you think you're doing with your boss? And don’t you realize he’s going to think you’re a cheap whore if you dress like that? And why can’t you just take better care of yourself? Would it kill you to exercise or cut back on the sweets?"

I glared at nothing in particular. “Thank you for the encouragement, Mom,” I said, voice sour.

After changing outfits more times than I cared to admit, I finally settled on a figure-hugging black dress that was perhaps a smidge too sexy for a business dinner. But it made my legs look amazing and my cleavage...well, let's just say the girls were sitting up and paying attention.

If the ghost of mom’s judgment wanted to reach me from halfway across the country, she could knock herself out. I gave up caring what she thought years ago, and I was far better for it.

My phone buzzed with a text from Kora.

Kora: Wear the black dress! It makes your boobs look good enough to eat with a spork!

I rolled my eyes at the text, but smiled.

Me: First... nobody uses sporks. Second. What? Third... I already have the black dress on, and shut up before you say what I know you're going to say.

Kora: You know I'm going to tell you to get that D?

If there was any doubt about what "D" she meant, the text was followed by an obscene number of eggplant and other related emojis to clear up the confusion.

Me: It's a business dinner, Kora. I'm not getting anybody's "D" tonight.

Kora: Then tell me what underwear you wore.

Me: I don't see how that's relevant.

Kora: Tell me.

Me: Fine. Red thong with matching lacy bra. So what?

Kora's response was a waterfall of cry laughing emoji's, eggplants, and fingers being poked through holes.

I grinned, but tapped out an annoyed response.

Me: I'm putting my phone on silent. You're a bad influence.

A single knock sounded at exactly eight.

I opened the door to find Orion looking good enough to lick in black jeans and a fitted shirt open at the collar. The sight of him in something other than a suit was doing very unprofessional things to my brain.

His eyes traveled over me appreciatively before he remembered himself. "You look...nice," he said, voice slightly rough.

"Thanks. You look...also nice." Smooth, Ember. Real smooth.

We exchanged awkward looks as we made our way down the elevator and out to the chilly city street, hardly saying more than a few words.

"So... do you usually escort your employees from their doorstep to company dinners?"

"When I'm already in town? Sure."

"You were in the area?" I asked.

"No," Orion admitted slowly. "Your building is close to my mom's place, but I had my driver bring me here from the office."

I smiled to myself. "So you're saying I'm special."

"I didn't say any such thing."

"You're implying it, then."

"I admire the work you do," he countered. "When I first met you delivering those hate notes, I suspected there was something extraordinary about you. You have a way of getting to people."

"Under their skin, you mean?" I asked with a self-deprecating smirk.

Orion frowned. "I mean you seem to have a way of connecting with people who prefer not to be connected with."

Now I was the one feeling off balance. "Like Mr. Davenport, you mean?"

Orion held my gaze for a meaningful moment, then gave a slight nod. "Sure. Like Mr. Davenport."

We talked about more harmless work topics as we continued walking toward the restaurant. The place was some trendy, upscale situation where the lighting was dim, the wine was expensive, and couples were canoodling in cozy booths. Very conducive to our totally professional working dinner.

We managed to keep up the facade of talking business through the appetizers, though I kept finding myself thinking about when we kissed at the art gallery every time our eyes met across the table. I also thought about the awkward drunken dinner at his place and the number of sexually charged moments we nearly shared at the office. By the time our server took away our appetizer plates and refilled our water glasses, I could hardly keep my mind on the conversation.

"So tell me," Orion said, leaning forward. "What exactly did you whisper to Davenport as you walked him out?"

"Oh, that." I toyed with the condensation on my water glass to keep from fanning myself. Even his curiosity was sexy.

What the hell had gotten into me tonight?

"He was telling me about his late wife," I said. "Apparently she used to bring him lunch at the rubber factory every day. That's why he never upgraded the break room, to keep it like it was when she was alive. He said he still goes in there sometimes and just sits to feel closer to her.”

Orion's face actually softened, making him even more devastatingly handsome. "Ember... I should tell you why we're actually trying to get Mr. Davenport's business."

"Because renovating three huge factories would be a big project... right?"

Something unreadable passed over Orion's face. Finally, he smiled slightly. "I suppose that's really the essence of it. Yes."

I tilted my head. "Why did you make it sound like there was more?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing you need to worry about for now."

"Okay," I said, frowning in confusion but shrugging the weirdness off. "Anyway, I wanted him to know we cared about the history and legacy, not just the property value."

"We?" His voice dropped an octave on the word.

"I mean, you. The company. Foster Real Estate." I took a too-big gulp of water so a few drops fell on my cleavage. I sputtered, leaning forward as I noticed Orion’s eyes locked on the drops of water slipping into the crevasse between my breasts.

I dabbed at myself with a napkin.

Orion cleared his throat, lifting his eyes to something above my face. “You had it right the first time,” he said. “We’re a team. And with Davenport requesting to work with you personally, you’ve just become one of the most critical members of the entire team, Ember.”

The way my name rolled off his tongue made me want to do terribly unprofessional things with said tongue. I clamped my thighs together and tried to remember how to breathe.

When the waiter arrived with our mains, I was grateful for the distraction. Until I noticed Orion watching my mouth as I wrapped my lips around a bite of steak.

“ God, ” I said, lifting a hand to cover my half-full mouth. “This steak is the most delicious thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

“So far,” Orion said, voice low and raspy.

Holy shit. I nearly choked on my steak, coughing and swallowing as Orion lowered his eyes to his own plate.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, half-laughing as my cheeks flushed with heat.

“It… just that you’re still very young. I imagine you’ll eat something even more delicious at some point.”

“Right,” I said, nodding a little too eagerly. He definitely wasn’t implying his cock would be in my mouth and I’d find it more delicious than this steak. Get your mind out of the gutter, Ember.

From that point forward, the conversation carried a subtle electric note of tension—as if nothing we spoke about really mattered. The real conversation was in the way his pupils seemed to dilate or how his fists clenched around his silverware every time I leaned forward slightly, giving him a better view of my cleavage. Our bodies were speaking, and they frankly didn’t give a shit about what was coming out of our mouths.

By the time we finished eating, I was squirming in my seat, hot and aching in places that had no business being hot and achy during a work dinner.

"This was a mistake," Orion said suddenly after a mostly quiet walk back to my building, up the elevator, and to my apartment door.

I turned to him in hurt surprise. “What?” I asked.

Orion studied me, brow creasing as he took in the emotion in my expression.

Without warning, he raised his big hands and cupped my face, bringing his mouth down on mine in a searing kiss.

I gasped, clutching his biceps as weeks of suppressed attraction combusted between us. His tongue swept into my mouth and I met it with my own, desire pulsing through me like a living current.

When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, Orion rested his forehead against mine.

"Dinner was a mistake," he said roughly. "Because I should have known I would need to do that after spending the evening with you.”

“Need to?” I asked, voice low and breathy.

“You do something to me, Ember. Something we should both avoid going forward. This is inappropriate. I’m your boss. You’re my employee.”

"Completely inappropriate," I agreed, sliding my hands up his chest.

Orion groaned as he pulled my hips flush against his. I felt the shockingly large and firm shape of his arousal against my belly.

"The worst idea ever," I panted, rising up on my toes to nip at his bottom lip.

Then we were kissing again, hot and urgent, professionalism be damned. We barely made it through my front door before clothes started coming off.

A loud, judgmental meow made us break apart. Catman glared from the couch, clearly unimpressed with our life choices.

We looked at each other, disheveled and buzzing with unfulfilled lust. Orion cleared his throat and stepped back, looking like it physically pained him to do so.

"I should go," he said, voice gravelly. "We really can't...this is a bad idea."

"The worst," I agreed, straightening my dress with shaking hands. "Totally unprofessional."

"Right. Yes. So I'll just...see you tomorrow, Miss Hartwell."

"Can't wait, Mr. Foster," I managed weakly.

The second the door closed behind him, I slumped against it.

Catman sauntered over and head-butted my ankle, clearly communicating "I told you so."

I sighed and looked down at him. "Don't gloat."

Except I was conflicted for all the wrong reasons. I didn't particularly care about workplace etiquette and the boss-employee relationship. Hell, every corporate office I'd ever worked in had practically been an orgy behind the scenes where everyone slept with everyone, HR be damned.

It wasn't that.

It was the fact that I actually liked this job. I liked being good at it. I liked some of the people I was very slowly getting to know at Foster Real Estate, even if they did live under a cloud of constant terror because Orion needed to loosen up. I even enjoyed the tension and back-and-forth I had with Orion at work.

It was all a thrill, both sexually and professionally, even if those two worlds were absolutely not supposed to collide.

And maybe worse of all was the fact that I only worked for Orion because I had been sent to sabotage him by his business rival. My parents had always said my impulsive nature would get me into real trouble one day. I hated it when they were right.

I ran my palms down my face and groaned. "Catman, I'm like a double agent. He's going to hate me if he ever finds out."

Instead of meowing sympathetically, Catman gave me a know-it-all style of meow.

"But I could always come clean and apologize. Explain that I didn't know I'd end up kind of liking him. I mean, the internet told me he was an evil villain. That counts for something, right?"

Catman's response was to flash his butthole and retreat, whatever that meant.

I sighed again. I could almost hear my mother's voice: "Honesty is always the best policy, Ember.” But then again, she also told me the “celery only diet” was a real thing and provided all the nutrients a growing body could need.

If nothing else, at least Monday would be an interesting day at the office.