28. Ember

28

EMBER

O rion's scowl could have frozen hell this morning. I happened to be at the office extra early to get my badges updated at the front desk, which meant I caught a front-row seat to Patricia Rosh reading Orion three particularly vicious hate notes. Orion’s jaw seemed to tick with each word, which was odd, because he usually seemed mostly unfazed by the contents of the notes.

Orion’s cold aura had followed him up the elevator and to the office floor. I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt it, as the office had a hushed, oppressed atmosphere.

Last night already felt like a dream. The way he'd smiled, laughed, let me see behind his walls... It made this morning's arctic front even harder to bear.

"God, he's in a mood," Julian muttered as he passed my desk. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. Too quickly.

Julian raised his eyebrows but wisely chose not to comment.

I turned back to my work, trying to focus on client emails instead of remembering how Orion had looked in his apartment last night—tie loosened, shadows playing across his perfect features as he showed me the view from his window. Standing next to him, seeing our reflections side by side, the differences had been stark. He was all clean lines and perfection, while I...

Well. I wasn't Jessica with her perfect hair and sculpted body. Men like Colton and Orion probably had perfectly crafted women like Jessica lining up for a chance to be with them. Even if the stars somehow aligned and Orion wanted to be with me, how long would it be before another “Jessica” came along and showed me up? It was like Kylie and Cole all over again.

"Miss Hartwell."

I jumped at Orion's voice. He stood by my desk, looking every inch the untouchable CEO. No trace remained of the man who'd smiled at me in his apartment last night.

"Yes, Mr. Foster?"

"I need your latest work on Davenport. Bring everything you have to my office. Now. ”

He turned and walked away without waiting for a response. Right. Back to business as usual.

I gathered the files and followed him, painfully aware of the curious eyes tracking our movement. The office rumor mill had been working overtime since the charity gala. I think some gossip had even spread after our not-so-veiled date last night, though I had no idea how anybody had heard about it.

"Close the door," he said when I entered.

I did, then stood awkwardly holding the files. This was the first time we'd been alone since last night, and the air felt charged with everything we weren't saying.

"Well?" he prompted.

Right. Files. Work. Professional distance.

I set them on his desk and began my report, keeping my voice carefully neutral as I detailed Davenport's latest requests. Orion listened with that impenetrable mask in place, asking the occasional clipped question.

This was worse than when we'd first met. At least then he'd shown emotion, even if it was mostly irritation. This complete shutdown felt personal.

"Is that all?" I asked when I finished.

"For now." He was already looking at his computer screen, dismissing me.

Something in me snapped.

"Actually," I said, "there's something I need to tell you."

His fingers stilled on his keyboard. "I thought we agreed to keep things professional."

"We did. This is about work. Sort of."

"Sort of," he repeated flatly.

"It's about Cole?—"

"Stop." His voice was sharp. "Whatever game you and Cole are playing, I don't want to know."

That was a shock. Did he already suspect something? If so, why wouldn’t he demand I tell him every last detail? “I’m not playing any kind of game,” I protested. “I just?—”

"Is sleeping with me part of his plan?" The words came out like ice shards. "Get close to me, learn my secrets, report back to him? Is that it?" His laugh was cold and hard. “I should have guessed it earlier. The way you came on to me so hard and fast. I should have known it was only part of a scheme. Some manipulation.”

I recoiled like he'd slapped me. Yes, part of his accusations were spot-on, but the idea that I would use my body like that to manipulate him? I hated that he could believe that about me, even if I knew on some level I may have deserved it. This was the rot I worried about—it was the effect of building something on a foundation of lies, no matter how inconsequential they may have been at the start. “No,” I managed, though I felt like I was on the verge of crying. I hated this. I hated what I let this turn into.

He stood, planting his hands on his desk. "Cole shows up at my gala, makes cryptic comments about you. Every time his name comes up, you look guilty. And now suddenly you want to explain?" His laugh was bitter. "I'm not a fool, Ember. And you think I couldn’t look up your history and see you worked for him? I knew it when I hired you, but I thought the chances of you having any personal connection with him were slim, even if the path from corporate drone to hate notes employee was highly suspicious."

"I wanted to tell you sooner,” I said. “And then… I started to… I?—”

“Well?” he cut in.

I wiped at my eyes, shaking my head. “Just let me talk.”

“I don’t think that would be wise,” he said. “You talking has caused us enough problems as it is. Your mouth is why I can’t simply fire you. It’s why I have to keep working with you to finish this Davenport deal, its?—”

“Stop,” I begged. “Can we please just calm down and talk like adults? I want to apologize. I want to?—”

“I’m your boss. I don’t need your apologies. I only need your assurance that you can put this mess behind you and continue to do what’s best for Foster Real Estate. I need your assurance that you’re still committed to landing the Davenport contract.”

"Right. My boss. Who kisses me at art galleries and invites me to his apartment and then treats me like I'm nothing the next day."

"You're the one who pulled away last night," he snapped.

"Because you made it clear this was 'inadvisable'! While I was standing there feeling like a troll next to your perfect reflection, looking at your perfect apartment with its perfect view!"

Understanding flickered across his face, quickly replaced by that maddening mask. "This is exactly why we need to maintain professional boundaries."

"Professional boundaries," I repeated. "Is that what you call sending me emails telling me to touch myself?"

Color rose in his cheeks. "That was a mistake."

The word hit like a punch to the gut. "Right. A mistake. Like letting me meet your friends? Like showing me your cat? Like making me think maybe you actually—" I cut myself off, horrified to feel more tears threatening.

"Maybe I actually what?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing. You're right. Let's just keep things professional. Focus on the Davenport deal and forget any of this happened. You’re not the only one who can shut off their emotions like a fucking robot. Just watch how well I can do it, too."

"Ember—"

"No," I said, proud of how steady my voice came out. "You don't get to Ember me in that soft voice after accusing me of... of what? Seducing you for corporate espionage?"

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "You're right. That was unfair. But there's clearly something you're not telling me about Cole."

"And there's clearly something you're not telling me about Davenport," I shot back. The words were the first time I had fully admitted it to myself, but I had sensed it a few times already. Orion, Roman, Moira, and even Julian seemed to know something about the Davenport deal they weren’t letting on. Knowing Orion, it was something I wouldn’t want to hear. "So maybe we're both keeping secrets. Maybe that's why this is such a bad idea."

His jaw clenched. "Maybe it is."

"Fine."

"Fine."

We stared at each other across his desk, the air crackling with hurt and want and things we couldn't say.

"Is that all, Mr. Foster?" I asked finally.

"Yes, Miss Hartwell. That will be all."

I walked out of his office with my head high, waiting until I reached the bathroom to let out a shaky breath.

This was better, I told myself. Better to keep things professional. Better not to want things I couldn't have. Better not to fall any harder for a man who would hate me when he learned the truth.

But if that was true, why did it feel like my heart was breaking?

Through the bathroom mirror, I caught my reflection. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, looking nothing like the polished perfection of Jessica or the cold professionalism Orion clearly preferred.

"Get it together," I whispered to my reflection. "It was never going to work anyway."