Chapter 1

Ashlyn

"Well thank you, Miss Anderson. I'm so pleased you managed to get the coffee made correctly."

I smiled tightly as I plopped my stepfather's order down on his desk. Miss Anderson . After four years of working—slaving?—for him at Cinders, Inc., he still called me by my father's last name. It was a reminder, I'm sure, that I would never be as important to him—or his company—as he was.

But I was only a month away from my independence.

In October I would turn thirty, which meant I'd be able to access the trust my mother left me in her will and be free of William Cinders and all his casual cruelty. Just a few more weeks doing his bidding, and I could peace the fuck out.

Keeping that in mind, I settled into the chair across from his desk and pulled out my tablet. "What are the priorities for today? "

This was our daily routine; I brought him his morning coffee, he insulted me, then verbal-vomited whatever he wanted to focus on today. I wasn't his secretary—although that poor woman made certain I had a copy of his calendar each morning even before the coffee routine. Nope, I had an even stupider title: Vice President of Synergistic Coordinating.

Pretty sure it meant I had to wipe his butt or something.

My main responsibility at Cinders, Inc. was communication between dear old Dad and the rest of the VPs, up until the point he needed to actually meet with them. They were a bunch of old men who took their cues from the CEO and did their best to belittle me as well.

God, I couldn't wait to be free of this place.

A few more weeks. You can do this. Then you and Mom's memory are free.

"If you can manage to pay attention, Miss Anderson, I think our shareholders would appreciate it."

Of course, the mighty shareholders . My smile was tight. "Sure, Dad . I'm ready for notetaking."

If his botoxed face would have allowed him to scowl, I was certain he would be right now. He hated being reminded of our relationship because I was such a failure to him.

But my stepfather just cleared his throat and launched into the priorities for today's meetings.

"It is vital we hyper-integrate our blockchain assets with emergent global ecosystems to maximize our synergistic potential. Leverage quantum data analytics to disrupt and capture cross-platform efficiencies."

After four years doing this, I'd become pretty good at understanding CEO-speak. By which I mean, complete nonsense. Which is what this command was: utter garbage .

It's the kind of shit a Vice President of Synergistic Coordination has to know about.

But I just nodded and hummed knowingly, glancing down at my note-taking app to ensure it was capturing all my stepfather's words. I wasn't going to read them, of course, but this adaptive tech would read it back to me as I needed it.

When he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together, I tapped the screen to start a new action item and nudged the tablet closer to record his words.

"This is for later this week, but I want Bob to put together a task force to brainstorm a new paradigm."

I hummed and murmured, "For what?" so the tablet wouldn't pick up my words.

"To craft and deploy a reimagined thought leadership schema across all verticals. Develop thought-following as a new paradigm to counteract mainstream thought-leading techniques, ensuring we remain followers in a leader-centric market."

By now I was frowning, but still I nodded. "Gotcha. Paradigms are important." After all, he'd used the word twice. "Leadership schema."

"And, Ashlyn, this morning I want you personally responsible for adjusting the ambient lighting to enhance bioluminescent productivity and recalibrate air ionization to foster a more conducive synergy field for ideation flow."

Oh for fuck's sake.

I struggled through an MBA for this shit?

Forcing a smile, I gathered the tablet to me and tapped the screen. "Buy new lightbulbs, got it."

To my surprise, instead of offering a snide, underhanded insult, my stepfather studied me thoughtfully. "That is this morning. Your task for after that is far…more relevant. "

I froze, unable to help the way my eyes widened in curiosity. I carefully placed the tablet down on the desk again. "What do you want me to do this week?"

"Have you ever heard of Eastshore Isle?"

When I shook my head, he launched into a description of the place. Apparently, it was a small town located on an island off the east coast, accessible only by ferry. It had a rich history and culture but tended to be insular because the ferry made it difficult to reach.

"I own property there, several blocks of what they consider the historic district , but is really just some run-down buildings. Are you getting all this?"

His pointed look at my tablet made my hackles rise, because I hadn't looked at the thing once. That was the point of adaptive tech. Hell, even if I did watch the screen to confirm all the notes were down there, it's not like I was going to read them.

My severe dyslexia made reading simple stuff a real pain in my butt, and the nonsense my stepfather usually spewed? Even worse. But luckily, I had a remarkable audio memory—which is why my apps converted the written words to spoken—and could parrot back most of it.

"What does Eastshore Isle have to do with me?"

"I've arranged to sell my property there. It's doing me no good, after all, since the town is practically dying from lack of tourists. The deal is being concluded next week, in Eastshore. I've had my secretary book you a room at one of the bed-and-breakfasts—can you believe there's no hotels?" He shook his head and reached for his coffee. "No wonder it's dying."

I mean, I had near-perfect audio recall, but that didn't mean I could make sense of everything. "You want me to…go to Eastshore Isle? And…what?"

"And sell my property, you silly girl!" He rolled his eyes as if I was the idiot here. "Martin Van Staamp will be representing the buyers, and you will represent me . You will sit in the closings on my behalf and sign all the papers."

I blinked. This was making no sense. My stepfather had never trusted me with anything more complicated than lightbulbs and coffee orders, and even then, made a fuss about how much I got wrong.

Still, I couldn't deny the little frisson of hope and excitement in my chest at the realization that he was giving me this much responsibility. I doubted I was ever going to be relevant to him—or this company. But he wouldn't give me this task unless he thought I could do it.

And that made my heart pound with excitement.

I tried to play it cool. "I…I can do that. Sure."

"I'm so glad." He nodded to a thick file folder on the edge of the desk. "Everything you need is in there."

My heart sunk.

It's not like I couldn't read. It's just that the letters tended to swim around on the page, and I always got a major headache trying to whip them into shape. And here I had a thick file of non-electronic data I couldn't listen to. How was I going to manage to parse through all that info?

Surprisingly, my stepfather not only picked up on my distress, but he also didn't berate me for it. "Just hand it off to the real estate agent," he commanded with a dismissive wave, already focused on his coffee. "He'll know what to do with it."

I had to admit, that was a huge relief.

I scooped up the file and stood, hugging it and my tablet to my chest. "When do I leave?"

"This afternoon." My stepfather lowered his brows. "Don't screw this up, Miss Anderson."

"I won't," I vowed. How could I? All I needed to do was hand over the files to the agent, sign some papers, and sell my stepfather's property to this Martin guy. Easy-peasy, right?

My stepfather nodded once, his expression turning speculative. "And Miss Anderson? If you manage to do this, I believe you'll find me not…unappreciative. There will be a promotion waiting for you here at Cinders, Inc."

My breath caught in my throat as my heart began to thud heavily against my ribs.

A promotion ?

I mean, I'd planned to leave next month. Kick the dust from this city from my boots and take my inheritance—which my stepfather had held over my head for years—and disappear, start over.

But a promotion? Finally getting the recognition I deserved here at this company?

"I…thank you," I managed to stutter, still in shock.

I wasn't sure if I would take it, but that was a powerful lure. Maybe I could stick around even after I had my inheritance. Show my stepfather what I could do, despite what he considered my deficiencies. I could make a real difference in this place.

Rule the galaxy as father and daughter, all that nonsense.

From the glint in his eyes, I think my stepfather saw my hope. He nodded again and flicked his fingers dismissively. "Go to Eastshore. Make me proud, Ashlyn."

My fingers dug into the file folder as I bobbed my head and whirled about.

I would .

Thebe s

"Why does it have to be me , guys?" I groaned, tipping my head back against the wicker of the patio chair. "I just got here!"

"That's not true. You've been here for a month," announced Sakkara calmly from where he stood, ankles and arms crossed, resting his hip against the edge of the porch. "You're closing on your new house next week."

"That doesn't mean I know Eastshore like you guys do!" I flopped my head sideways to glare at Giza, who as usual looked completely unruffled. "Back me up here, Geez!"

"Don't call me that." The older orc's response was automatic, but then he slowly stretched his legs out in front of him, gaze on his boots, as he considered the question. Finally he shook his head. "Sakkara is right. You are buying a house."

I scoffed and lifted my beer, pressing it against my forehead as if the condensation would help rid me of this headache. "I wasn't asking you to confirm if I was—you know what? Never mind."

"Smart decision, T'mak ," Giza murmured, and I rolled my eyes. He was the oldest of us, and treated all of us as the Little Brother he'd just called me.

Unfortunately, Sakkara was right. I was closing on my house next week, and that meant I was officially a part of this community, even if I was staying in Sakkara's guest bedroom until then. My stuff was in storage, just waiting for me to decorate my new home.

Eastshore Isle was my new home.

I sighed and pushed myself upright, bracing my elbows on my knees. "Guys, you both know this place better than I do. I am not the one to play babysitter."

Giza hummed. "You are the one who's already booked days off for the next two weeks for your move, which means you have the time."

Dammit, I hated when he had logical arguments. "Surely you can close down the shop for a while?" Double dammit, I sounded like a whiny kit.

Sakkara answered, sounding calm and level-headed as always. "Giza's tattoo parlor has appointments booked out eighteen months, and he's only been open since the summer. You'd be surprised by how many humans want orcish tattoos."

I glanced down at the geometric swirls on the underside of my forearm. Giza had done them ten years ago when we'd all been locked together in that government facility in Denver. It had been to remind him of home .

But Eastshore was my home now, wasn't it?

"Yeah, I guess so," I muttered, uncertain who I was answering.

"Look, Thebes," Sakkara sighed, uncrossing his ankles and straightening. "You're the only one who can do this. You were basically born to do this."

"Yes, T'mak ," Giza offered. "Charming a lady. It's your talent. And it's not as if you'll hate the experience. Take her out to dinner at the nicest restaurants—try The Golden Pearl. Long moonlit walks on the beach."

"Avoid the industrial complex," Sakkara cut in drily. "Or the shrimping docks."

Giza had sat forward now. "She's staying at the bed-and-breakfast, which means she'll be right in the historic district. Hells, her bedroom will be an example of what needs saving; if you charm her properly you could give her a good view of the ceiling—"

" And that's enough of that sort of talk," Sakkara announced loudly.

I glanced at him with raised brows. Sure, he could be a bit stuffy, and always dressed as if he was on his way to a board meeting somewhere, with that tie and ironed trousers…but I'd heard him curse and laugh at off-color jokes with the best of us.

But then my question was answered when a small head poked out the door to the house.

Sakkara's daughter Emmy was eight, and we all—those of us who'd lived long enough to find refuge in this welcoming small town—loved her. Now she looked at her father with a questioning gaze, and Sakkara nodded.

"Dinner soon, although it's just spaghetti, okay?" Emmy frowned for a moment, then sighed and nodded, and Sakkara's lips twitched. "You can have a banana if you're starving to death."

When Emmy rolled her eyes just like any other second-grader, I hid my smile behind my beer.

The little girl slipped back inside, and Giza chuckled. "She's fitting in well at school, then?"

Sakkara sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. "Yeah. I love that she has friends for the first time, and none of them seem to mind that she doesn't speak to them. Her teacher is a gods-send too."

I wondered if there was more to it than that.

"See, Thebes?" Giza asked, pulling my attention back to him. "Why it has to be you? Sakkara has Emmy, he can't go around seducing heiresses."

"Seducing?" I held Giza's gaze as I took another swig of beer. "You want me actually seduce her?"

It's what you're good at .

Giza shrugged. "Ashlyn Anderson is arriving tomorrow to finalize the sale of three blocks of the historic district. If that sale goes through, especially to the investors she's planning to sell to, Eastshore will never be the same."

"Dramatic, much?" I muttered, taking another swig .

But Sakkara chimed in. "The investors want to put up three hotels and a condo building." He held my gaze. "Can you imagine Eastshore Isle with condos ?"

Fuck .

I sighed and pressed the beer to my forehead again.

Double fuck.

Sakkara was right.

This town was perfect the way it was: sweet, welcoming, feel-good, with just enough industry and people who worked from home to make it work. The people of Eastshore cared about one another, and stepped up to help, and had been there for us.

We—my brothers, the orcs who'd crossed through the veil from our homeworld ten years ago—had never had a place to belong. But Sakkara was gathering us here, and the people of Eastshore Isle had welcomed us. It was strange, but this place was home in a way I hadn't felt in long time.

Since even before the elders had voted to include me in the group who'd pass through to the human world and never be able to return.

I sighed again. " Fine . I'll seduce her."

As Giza chuckled, "Not too much of a burden," Sakkara held up his hands, palms out, to stop me.

"Don't be hasty," he cautioned. "You don't have to seduce her. We just want you to take her around Eastshore, show her how wonderful this place is as it is . You know how humans think; work with her and try to figure out a solution that works for her besides destroying this place."

"Yeah," Giza agreed. "Wine and dine her a bit. You're good with the ladies—"

"I'm amazing with the ladies," I interrupted sternly, pointing my bottle at him .

The older male just grinned. "You're good at making the ladies fall in love with you, we've all seen it. All we're saying is this time, make her fall in love with Eastshore."

I began to relax. That didn't sound too difficult.

"Exactly." Sakkara winked. "Schmooze her."