Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I stopped dribbling, studying my oldest, and likely my only friend. Colton was probably the only person besides Remmy who could talk to me like this. We'd met in college when he was getting his medical engineering degree, and somehow he'd stuck around despite my... everything.
"It's complicated," I said finally.
"Because she works for you?"
"That's part of it." I hesitated. "She's different. Unpredictable. The exact opposite of everything I've built my life around."
"Sounds terrifying," Colton said with a grin. "You should absolutely go for it."
I shook my head. "I can't just..."
"Can't just what? Feel something? Take a risk?" He tossed me the ball. "Maybe that's exactly what you need."
I thought about Ember's laugh, the way she challenged me, how seeing her in my mother's kitchen had felt strangely right.
"I’ve already gone through the most likely outcomes. All of them involve things going terribly wrong.”
"What if they don’t?" Colton shrugged. "Besides, from what Remmy tells me, this woman already drives you crazy. How much worse could it get?"
I thought about Ember's texts from last night, her complete lack of fear when it came to teasing me, the way she looked at me like she could see right through my carefully constructed walls.
"Much worse," I said. But I was already thinking about possibilities. Ways to maintain control while exploring... whatever this was.
"Good," Colton said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Now stop thinking so hard and play. Some of us have actual jobs to get to."
"You fix machines for a living."
"Very expensive, very important machines. Speaking of which, I'm in town for the next few weeks installing some new imaging equipment at Mount Sinai. We should grab dinner. Bring your chaos agent."
"She's not my anything," I said automatically.
"Yet," Colton said with a knowing smile. "Now are you going to shoot or just stand there looking constipated?"
I threw the ball at his head. He caught it, laughing.
At least someone was enjoying this.
19
ORION
"...and as you can see, Mr. Davenport, our proposed improvements would increase the property value significantly."
I was only half-listening to Roman's presentation. The other half of my brain was stuck on Ember—how she'd looked yesterday morning, disheveled and hungover, yet somehow still managing to be irritatingly distracting. Those full lips had been extra puffy, slightly swollen from sleep, and I'd caught myself wondering what it would feel like to...
No. I refused to acknowledge that line of thought. It was wildly inappropriate and unprofessional. Colton's words from our morning basketball game weren't helping either.
Marcellus Davenport sat across the conference table, studying me with shrewd eyes. He was pushing ninety but sharp as ever, his weathered hands folded neatly on the polished wood.
The meeting wasn't exactly going well. Marcellus Davenport appeared to be a highly emotional man who didn't care about our impressive numbers, contract success rates, or unparalleled resources. He seemed unmoved by the carefully crafted presentation Roman had spent weeks perfecting.
In short, I wasn't getting through to him, and I could see it in his cold expression. From the looks on Roman and Moira's faces, they could see how poorly this was going as well. Worse, Moira had insisted on letting some of her people sit in, which meant I wasn't entirely surprised to find Ember at the conference table along with a few other familiar faces.
My failure of epic proportions had quite the audience.
"The projections speak for themselves," I said, attempting to salvage things with a more personal pivot. "But ultimately, Mr. Davenport, what matters is preserving your legacy. These factories have been in your care for decades. We want to honor that history while bringing them into the future."
Davenport's eyes narrowed. "And what do you know about legacy, young man?"
More than you think, I wanted to say. Instead, I found myself wondering what Ember would do. She'd probably send him a plushy replica of one of his factories or something equally ridiculous. And somehow, it would work.
I felt my eyes slide to her along with my thoughts, and Ember seemed to take my gaze as permission to speak.
"We know it's not just about the buildings," Ember said suddenly, drawing several sharp looks from around the table. She was specifically briefed by Moira to stay quiet during this meeting, and it took serious backbone for her to be speaking right now. To her credit, her cheeks were flushed and she looked uncharacteristically nervous. But she pressed on, voice confident and clear. "It's about the people whose lives were shaped within those buildings—the families who relied on these factories for generations."
Something in Davenport's expression shifted. "Go on."
"At Foster Real Estate, we believe real estate isn't just about property—it's about potential," Ember said, cutting her eyes to me briefly before returning to Mr. Davenport. "It's about seeing what something could become while respecting what it has been."
Davenport studied her for a long moment. "Who are you, young woman?"