33. Ember

33

EMBER

I walked into Orion's office on shaky legs, feeling like I had "I just had mindblowing sex in a closet" tattooed across my forehead in neon letters. My body was still humming with pleasure and unfulfilled need—I could feel the wetness between my legs with every step. I had stopped by the bathroom to clean up before coming to Orion’s office, and I found Orion and Davenport were already speaking when I arrived.

Davenport sat in one of the leather chairs across from Orion's desk, looking completely at ease. He smiled warmly when he saw me.

"Miss Hartwell! Excellent timing. I was just telling Mr. Foster here that I had an interesting conversation with that other young man earlier today—Cole Northman. He’s extremely eager to get my business, it seems.”

My stomach dropped. I forced what I hoped was a neutral expression. "Oh?"

"Quite the sales pitch." Davenport's eyes twinkled. "Very polished. Very... rehearsed."

Orion settled behind his desk, his face unreadable. Only I could see the slight tremor in his hands as he straightened his tie—the same tie I'd been gripping minutes ago.

"Mr. Davenport," Orion began, "I’m sure Cole Northman would love to earn your business. So would we. Maybe you can tell us what you need us to do and we can start there?”

"All this simpering and begging has me thinking,” Davenport said, ignoring Orion’s words as he leaned forward. "All these meetings, all these presentations... It all reeks of team meetings and calculated manipulation, don’t you think?”

“Manipulation?” Orion began. “I would hardly?—”

“No, you would hardly call it that,” Davenport agreed. “That would be too honest. And the way you big shots orchestrate these meetings and client acquisitions is hardly honest, is it? So let’s try something new. I’d like to hear you tell me exactly why you want my business. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me truthfully, and keep in mind my bullshit detector is world-class.”

I perched on the edge of a chair, hyper-aware of Orion's presence. The memory of his fingers inside me was so fresh I could barely focus on Davenport's words.

Orion's jaw tightened. He stared at Davenport for several long, uncomfortable seconds, and then he finally folded his hands in front of himself on the desk and leaned in. “I want you as a client because I want Foster Real Estate to be the biggest company in Manhattan. Successfully renovating your factories is a step in that direction. You care about the legacy of your factories and the lives they touched, right? Well, I’m still creating my legacy. Making a masterpiece of this project is part of cementing that legacy. My own self-interest is exactly why you can trust me, Mr. Davenport.”

“Legacy,” Davenport whispered as he softly brought his fist down on Orion’s desk. “Yes. Now you’re finally speaking a common language, young man. Why do you care about building a legacy? Why does it matter if your company is the biggest?”

Orion sat back slightly, eyebrows drawn in deep thought. “My father died when I was a boy. All my memories of him were watching him struggle to provide for us. If… he’s still watching, in some capacity, I want him to be able to rest. I want to show him the people he cares about are provided for—that his passing didn’t doom us.”

I was surprised to feel a ball of emotion in my throat at Orion’s words. Once again, I found the idea of his childhood touched by such a profound loss heartbreaking.

Davenport nodded very slowly, hands folded over his belly. “This is good, young man. Honesty. This is how people connect. It’s how they understand one another and establish real trust. But I hope you’ll forgive me if I ask you a question…”

Orion still looked a little shaken by his own words, but he gave a small nod.

“I’ve never had children, but I am an old man. I’m trying to imagine what I would say if I heard my own son just say the things you said. And I wonder if I wouldn’t want to slap him across the face and ask him why he’s so worried about my damn ghost? I’d want to ask him why he isn’t more worried about taking care of himself, bank accounts be damned.”

Orion’s face reddened.

“I think what Mr. Davenport means,” I said, cutting in as I worried that Orion was about to blurt out something he’d regret in anger. “Is that your father would want what’s best for you in more ways than just financial. And maybe he would encourage you to take care of the other aspects of your life—not just work.”

Orion’s eyes slid to mine and I felt cold leak down to my stomach.

“With all due respect,” Orion said. “Neither of you knew my father. I hardly think you’re qualified to imagine what he would or wouldn’t want for his son. I would prefer if we stuck to the business at hand.”

Davenport spread his hands. “Of course. I appreciate you indulging an old man. You must understand these factories are the closest things I have to children. Just like your father probably wanted what was best for you, I want what’s best for those factories. Choosing a company to renovate and preserve them is a bit like choosing a surrogate parent to look after my children when I’m gone. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Orion said, voice touched by some unknown emotion.

“So what would you do with my children, Mr. Foster? Would you milk them for money like cash cows? Or would you honor them, even if it meant ignoring the bottom line here or there?”

I watched Orion struggle and saw the conflict in his eyes. The same man who'd just thoroughly dominated me in a supply closet now looked almost vulnerable.

"I..." He glanced at me, then back to Davenport. "I believe in doing things right—in excellence. When I look at your property, I see potential being wasted. I see corners being cut and opportunities being missed. Yes, I care about profit. But I care because profit means we can do more, build better, create something lasting. Profit is a tool that enables us to create something more.”

My breath caught. It was the most passionate I had heard Orion talk, and it was maybe my first real window into what drove him to work so hard here. Maybe it really wasn’t just about money or control for him. He really did care about something.

Mr. Davenport finally smiled. “Go on, young man.”

“This is where I want to hear your ideas,” Orion said, briefly cutting his eyes to mine and giving me the slightest nod. “You can tell us where to start, and we would work together from there to bring your vision to life.”

For the first time, Mr. Davenport wasn’t looking at Orion with open hostility and doubt. Instead, he leaned forward and began to talk excitedly about the future of his factories. To my surprise, Orion listened carefully as I tried to write down notes as fast as I could.

I realized my thoughts had been trailing for a few minutes as the men talked. I tuned back in while Orion was talking.

“...right,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “Miss Hartwell has been... quite vocal about suggesting alternative approaches. We could let her sit with these ideas and see what she can propose."

I shifted in my chair, remembering just how vocal I'd been minutes ago. Focus, Ember.

"Has she now?" Davenport's eyes sparkled with amusement. "And what do you think of her suggestions?"

Orion met my gaze, and the heat in his eyes made me grip the arms of my chair. "I think... she sees things I sometimes miss. Different perspectives can be... valuable."

Was he still talking about business? My cheeks burned.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Davenport stood, straightening his jacket. "I don't need another slick presentation. I need to know the people handling my legacy understand what that really means. Show me a plan that balances both our visions—profit and preservation. Then we'll talk details."

Once Davenport was gone, I stared at Orion, heart pounding. "Did that just happen?"

"Which part?" His voice was rough. "Davenport essentially telling us to work together, or..." His eyes dropped to my mouth.

"Both." I stood on still-wobbly legs. "I should... probably go review these notes and see what I can come up with."

"Probably." But neither of us moved.

"Do you really think we can make this work?" I whispered. "The whole 'nothing changes outside the closet' thing?"

Orion's laugh was low and dangerous. "I don’t suppose either of us are willing to stop now. So I imagine we’re going to find out if it’ll work or not.”

Yeah. He was right about that. If we had stayed in that closet another minute, I think I was about to beg him just like he wanted. Somehow, things had gone from messy to messier, and I had a bad feeling we were only just getting started.