43. Ember

43

EMBER

F or once, the Foster Real Estate office buzzed with genuine excitement instead of nervous energy. People gathered in small groups, discussing the events at the Metropolitan with animation I'd never seen before.

"Did you see Cole's face?" Julian asked for probably the tenth time that morning. "I swear he turned at least three different shades of purple."

"I'm more impressed by what Ember pulled off," Monica said, perching on the edge of my desk. "God, I wish I'd recorded the whole thing."

"I did," Roman said, not looking up from his computer. When we all stared at him, he shrugged. "What? I record all important business meetings."

"Sure you do," Julian smirked. "Nothing to do with knowing this was going to be epic?"

I smiled, letting their banter wash over me as I sorted through the mountain of work ahead. Transforming the factories wouldn't be easy, but for the first time, I felt like I had a real team behind me.

A shadow fell across my desk. I looked up to find Moira standing there, her expression unreadable.

"Walk with me," she said.

My stomach clenched, but I followed her to the break room. To my surprise, she headed straight for the coffee maker.

"The thing about change," she said as she poured two cups, "is that it's terrifying until it happens. Then you wonder why you were so scared in the first place." She handed me one of the cups. "You've changed this place, Ember. And I don't just mean the company's direction."

I took a sip to hide my shock. Was Moira actually being nice to me?

"Thank you?" I managed.

"Don't get used to it," she said, but there was a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Now, about the community board. I have some thoughts..."

The factory's main floor buzzed with activity as construction crews worked on carefully modernizing the space. Orion stood beside me, frowning at the blueprints while I tried not to smile at how adorably serious he looked.

"The museum section needs to be larger," he said.

"I thought profit was your main concern," I teased.

"It was. But look at this." He pulled out his phone, showing me an old photograph Davenport had shared. It showed workers gathered outside the factory, families having a picnic on the lawn. "These people built their lives here. Their stories deserve more than a footnote."

My heart did that funny flip it always did when he showed this softer side. "Who are you and what have you done with Orion Foster?"

"Very funny." But he smiled as he tucked the photo away. "Maybe I'm learning there's more to legacy than just numbers."

"From you? That's practically a love poem."

He caught my hand, thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Don't get used to it. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Oh really?" I gestured to where Julian was giving a tour to community board members, making them laugh with his enthusiasm. "Because from where I'm standing, your reputation is already shot. People actually smile in this building now. Some even laugh."

"A tragedy," he agreed solemnly. "Clearly your influence has ruined everything."

"Clearly." I started to lean in for a kiss, but the sound of approaching footsteps made us jump apart.

"Mr. Foster?" Daniel appeared, looking apologetic. "The historical society is here for their meeting."

"Thank you, Daniel." Orion straightened his tie, CEO mask sliding back into place. But I caught his wink as he turned away. "Miss Hartwell, shall we?"

"After you, Mr. Foster."

As we walked to the meeting, I couldn't help thinking how far we'd come. The factory around us was transforming, becoming something new while honoring what it had been. Kind of like us, really.

"Stop smiling like that," Orion murmured.

"Like what?"

"Like you're thinking sentimental thoughts. It's distracting."

"You love it."

He didn't deny it.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of meetings, planning sessions, and late nights at the office. Davenport insisted on being involved in every detail, though I noticed he scheduled an awful lot of meetings at Eleanor's house.

"For the duck ambiance," he claimed, but no one missed the way they looked at each other across conference tables.

Orion threw himself into the work with characteristic intensity, but something had shifted. He actually listened during meetings now, considered other perspectives. The fear that used to permeate the office had been replaced by something that felt almost like... respect.

"You know what's weird?" Julian said one evening as we were all working late. "I actually kind of like coming to work now."

"Careful," Roman warned. "He might hear you."

"I already did," Orion said, appearing in the doorway. But he was smiling—actually smiling—as he added, "And if any of you repeat that I smiled outside this office, I'll deny everything."

"There's the boss we know and fear," Julian said cheerfully.

I caught Orion's eye across the room, saw the warmth there that he no longer tried to hide. We still had our moments of friction—he was still Orion after all, and I was still me—but now they felt more like sparks than explosions.

"Speaking of our fearless leader," Monica stage-whispered, "when are you two going to make it official?"

"Make what official?" I asked innocently.

"Please," she scoffed. "The whole office has a betting pool on when he's going to propose."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "What?"

"I've got fifty on Christmas," Julian offered.

"A hundred on New Year's," Roman added without looking up.

"Better odds than Patricia Rosh got," Monica chimed in. "Did you hear what happened to Hate Notes?"

"No?" I perked up with interest.

"Apparently after Orion kept bribing away all her employees, she tried to pivot to 'Love Notes' instead. But the market for paying someone to deliver romantic messages isn't quite as robust as angry ones." Monica grinned. "Last I heard, she sold the company to some startup that's turning it into a singing telegram service."

"Complete with the red uniforms?" I asked.

"Of course. Though I hear they added sequins."

"An improvement," I decided, thinking of how far we'd all come from those morning confrontations on the steps.

“Maybe Orion could use them to propose now that they’ve changed their tune. A singing proposal!,” Julian mused with a smile. “Seems just like something Orion would do.”

“Hardly my style,” Orion said, but his words weren’t a denial that he was planning on proposing.

I nearly choked when I realized and tried to cover my surprise with a casual smile. “Yeah, Orion would probably send his proposal in a spreadsheet, or maybe a memo.”

Everybody laughed, but there was something mysterious in the smile Orion wore and the twinkle in his eyes—something that made my stomach do a few looping jumps.