34. Orion

34

ORION

" T he paperwork is ready whenever you are, Sir," Roman said, sliding a folder across my desk. "Once Davenport signs with us, the property transfer clause will be ironclad."

My office windows sputtered as a sudden April shower drenched the city outside.

I stared at the folder, remembering Davenport's words about his factories being like his children. About legacy.

And then I thought about the recent developments with Ember. Three days ago, I took Ember into that closet and had the best few minutes of my life. Two days ago, we both stayed late and used my office desk as an improvised bed. To my surprise, we had stopped short of true penetration, though. It was all thoroughly enjoyable foreplay, sexual banter, and a bit of heavy physical teasing, but we didn’t truly fuck. Yesterday had been more of the same.

Today, I expected she would linger late again and slip into my office as was quickly becoming our custom. I had made sure to acquire a healthy stock of condoms after our first encounter, but I wondered if I would need one tonight.

I wondered what was holding both of us back from that final step.

Was it that the foreplay was enough? Was it simply easier to write it off as physical fun and nothing more if we didn’t truly have sex? Or were we afraid of what might happen if we went all the way?

I couldn’t begin to guess what was going through Ember’s mind. Frankly, I couldn’t even decode my own thoughts and reservations on the topic.

All I knew was neither of us ever seemed to be willing to take the final steps, whether they were emotional or physical. We were both holding back, too reluctant to trust the other not to… what?

I supposed in my case, I worried that the truth of what she hid would sting too badly—that it would ruin me somehow. I also worried that my own hidden truth was enough to make her want nothing to do with me.

"Sir?" Roman prompted. "Is something wrong?"

"No." I opened the folder, scanning the legal documents that would effectively steal Davenport's property after his death. Documents I'd been pursuing relentlessly just weeks ago.

In truth, it felt like I wasn’t the same person when I sat and listened to Roman’s initial proposition—about how a legal loophole would mean we could become the de-facto inheritors of everything an old dying man owned as long as he contracted us to work on his factories. In that meeting, I was only thinking about the bottom line and Foster Real Estate.

The idea that we would do anything other than demolish those factories and build something new hadn’t so much as crossed my mind. I also hadn’t spared a thought for what the dying old man would think about his factories being destroyed and wiped from history.

And then the old bastard had gone and connected it to dad. On top of that, Ember had infiltrated my mind and company like a virus, making me think about projects and clients from angles I had never before cared to consider.

“Everything’s fine,” I said, even if it felt like it was anything but.

"It's just... you seem different lately." Roman shifted uncomfortably. "The whole office feels different. I heard you’ve barely even been getting those weird Hate Notes anymore."

He wasn't wrong. The changes were small but undeniable. This morning, I'd walked past the break room while people were celebrating someone's birthday. Instead of shutting it down, I'd just... kept walking. And two days last week had passed where I hadn’t been delivered a single Hate Note. It was unheard of, and not entirely unpleasant.

It made me feel as though some alien presence had woken inside me and was gradually taking over the controls. Maybe that should have terrified me, but I couldn’t deny the changes Roman was talking about. It wasn’t just the office that felt a little… brighter, either. It was everything.

"I heard laughing from your office earlier," Roman continued. "During the Davenport meeting. Actual laughing."

"Is there a point to this, Roman?"

"Just that..." He hesitated. "Some of us have noticed Miss Hartwell's influence on?—"

"That will be all."

He nodded and practically fled, leaving me alone with the damning paperwork and thoughts of Ember. Always of Ember lately.

I couldn't stop remembering how she'd looked in that closet, flushed and wanting. How she'd gasped my name. And then her mere presence during the meeting with Davenport felt like it had encouraged that new side of me to come out. Instead of tanking the meeting, her influence had saved it.

Ember made me want to be better, and I hadn’t even realized there was anything wrong with my approach before she showed up in my life.

Speaking of chaos incarnate…

I saw Ember approaching my office with something tucked under her arms. Unlike the last few weeks, she was smiling and exchanging a few words with other employees on her way to my office. One by one, they were embracing her as one of their own.

Of course they were.

Ember entered carrying a stack of papers, looking professional except for the slight darkening of her cheeks when our eyes met. I wondered if she was remembering the closet, too.

"So," she said, closing the door. "I have some thoughts about Davenport's factories."

"I'm sure you do."

She narrowed her eyes at my tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." I gestured to the chair across from me. "Please, enlighten me."

She sat, crossing her legs in a way that made me grip my pen too tight. "First, we need to talk about…”

I listened as Ember outlined her vision, watched her eyes light up as she described community programs and historical exhibits alongside profitable renovations. She saw so much potential—not just for profit, but for actual good.

The folder with the property transfer documents felt like it was burning a hole in my desk. Those documents outlined the legal steps we would need to take to guarantee Davenport’s properties would transfer to Foster Real Estate the moment he died. All I had to do was sign in a few places and hope Davenport officially contracted us for the project. After that, it was as good as done.

But…

I watched Ember’s eager and beautiful face as she continued to talk and read from her paper. She genuinely cared, and she was excited to make Davenport’s dreams a reality. She cared about him, the properties, and Foster Real Estate. Somehow, her plan was good for all three, too. Sure, a relatively minor contract to do some renovations and maintenance on old factories would hardly move the needle on our profits for the year, but it wouldn’t be a loss. It would also look good for future clients and potentially bring us more business in the future.

Davenport would obviously be happy and so would anybody who still cared about those old factories.

But signing those transfer papers… that would take Foster Real Estate and launch the company into financial orbit. We would instantly go from “one of the top ten” real estate companies in Manhattan to the top company. If any part of me still felt like my mission to reach the top was in progress, it would be put to rest the moment we took ownership of those properties.

"You're staring," Ember said suddenly.

"You're remarkable," I replied before I could stop myself.

Her breath caught. "I—do you—" Ember cleared her throat and composed herself slightly. “Professionally speaking, or?”

“Both,” I admitted.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about anything but work when we weren’t, you know ,” she added, cheeks reddening and voice lowering.

"This arrangement of ours… it has proven more complicated than I anticipated.”

“You’re the one who suggested it,” Ember said.

"I know." I stood, walking to the window.

“Are you saying you want it to stop?” she asked. I felt a guilty touch of relief to hear the fear in her voice. She didn’t want it to stop, either. She was desperately hoping I wasn’t about to end things.

“No,” I said. “I’m only… worried that we’re moving too quickly. Making it too hard for our brains to separate feelings from our arrangement.”

There was a long pause and I didn’t turn to look away from the window.

“Is that your robot way of saying you’re starting to develop feelings for me, Orion?”

Now it was my turn to stay silent for too long. “There’s the matter of your secret,” I said. And mine , I thought. Was that the real reason I told her to keep holding on to whatever dirty secret she had? Was it just a way to alleviate my own guilt for not telling her the truth about the Davenport project?

Maybe.

“You asked me not to tell you,” she said carefully.

“I know. And people who casually sleep together don’t bare their souls to one another.”

“We haven’t slept together,” she reminded me. “I’ve… thoroughly sucked your cock, jacked you off, and let you do all sorts of amazing things to me with those talented fingers of yours. But we haven’t… done the whole thing.”

Hearing her speak so plainly about the things we had done was oddly arousing. Until now, we had at least stuck to the terms of our agreement. When we weren’t fooling around, we more or less pretended everything was normal. If anything, we over corrected toward stiff formality.

“I’m aware,” I said. “And even with the limits of what we’ve done, we both appear to be struggling with the terms of our agreement.”

She was grinning when I finally turned to face her. “Are you implying that I have caught feelings, too, Mr. Foster?”

My nostrils flared.

“Easy,” she said, smiling wider. “You’re not the only one struggling. I was just teasing.”

"What are we doing, Ember?" I sighed.

"Currently?" She stood and looked out one of the smaller windows overlooking the office itself. The building was already clearing out because it was late, and only the true over-achievers were still at their desks working. Ember pulled the blinds shut and turned toward me, walking closer. "I’m feeling tired of rules and agreements. My body knows what it wants, and I’m pretty sure yours does too.”

There was something different in her body language and voice. Something less primal and hungry than usual. I felt it, too.

It was as if the complete release and abandon of our last few physical interactions were meant to drown out any possibility of emotional connection.

The way she was looking at me now was… not that.

I moved to the rest of the blinds, pulling them closed. Ember watched me, visibly swallowing as she came closer to me, one hand hesitantly lifting toward my face.

I hooked a hand around her waist and pulled her close. I shouldn’t be touching her now—not when our emotions were so obviously malfunctioning. I shouldn’t have backed her against my desk and kissed her until we were both breathless.

But I did.

Unlike the last few nights, we only kissed. It started hard and heavy, but it turned into something new. It was slow, passionate, and tender. She kissed me softly, her tongue sliding across mine as she smiled so close to my face I could feel it. She held onto me like I was a rock and she was trying not to be dragged away in a hard current, and I let her.

When we finally pulled back, from our long series of kisses, her eyes were heavy and her lips were pink. Her cheeks flushed when our eyes met.

“That was nice,” she breathed.

“Yes,” I said stiffly.

“Okay, then… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You work here. I imagine you will.”

She reached up and straightened my already straight tie—as was her habit. “Bye, Orion.”

“Good night, Ember.”

She stood on her tiptoes and gave me one last, tender kiss, then touched her fingertips to her lips before turning and rushing out of my office.

I flopped into my chair with a hard sigh when she was gone and stared for a very long time at the folder with the property transfer papers.

Two problems: One, whatever the hell that was definitely felt like it violated our “physical only” agreement. Sure, the words we exchanged weren’t exactly dripping with emotional energy, but that kiss was more than physical. It had felt like a connection. I could still feel it even now, as if an invisible tether had formed between us, keeping her actively on my mind even as she retreated through the office to her desk.

Two, the whole goddamn reason I wanted to avoid this was because I knew she was hiding something that would crush me, and I was hiding something that would crush her. Opening ourselves up to these… feelings was asking for disaster.

If I signed those papers and Ember found out what it meant, she wouldn’t ever forgive me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could even forgive myself if I signed them.

I lifted the folder and let it hover over the trash can. My thoughts swirled as I held the papers, considering what it would mean to let them go. It would mean changing myself and my vision for Foster Real Estate. It would be a decision of people over profits. It would be a completely different take on the legacy I had been trying to build for the company and the dream I’d been pursuing since my dad passed.

I watched in stunned surprise as I opened my fingers and let the folder thump into the trash. I felt a sickly weight slide off my shoulders as soon as I did—a weight I hadn’t consciously known was there until it was gone.

The gesture was largely symbolic, I knew. Roman could reprint those and have them on my desk in minutes. But he also wouldn’t know I didn’t sign them. I was supposed to send those to legal and have things finalized. Roman would assume I did exactly that until the day Davenport died, I assumed.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a sigh of something like relief. For the first time in a very long time, I also felt a budding glow of warmth inside that was dangerously close to happiness.