Page 14 of The Firefighter's Fate

I don’t know the place. I have never been there to that small town. I have only heard about Crystal River through its connection with my boss’ family. It’s where their mansion is, but other than that, there’s nothing of note about the town.

“Where else would you go?” Waylen asks me rhetorically.

“So... an interview with your son...”

The man stands up.

“I’m going to cut this meeting short,” he announces bluntly. “My helicopter is ready on the pad upstairs. I’ve got a late lunch with the President. I’m sure you understand enough of what I want. I don’t need to spell it out for you. There’s enough for you to make a start.”

“The President? Of where?”

“This country, Ember.”

Oh, sure. Lunch with the President of the United States. That’s perfectly normal.

“Yes, I better get going to my lunch with the Dalai Lama,” I reply. “Don’t want to be late for that.”

Well, I am having a lunch date... with my friend. But she’s certainly no reincarnation of a god.

My comment surprisingly makes the billionaire laugh. It’s more than a refined chuckle - he actually found my comment amusing.

“I like you, Ember Mortensen,” he says. “I like your work. That’s why I’ve personally picked you for this assignment. You better write something interesting about Connor. I’ll be reading.”

Oh. This is real. This is happening. I think I would prefer being fired than face this.

Fuck.

5

EMBER

I find out the hard way that it takes a hell of a long time to travel down one hundred levels in an elevator, especially when your head is still spinning from meeting one of the most powerful men on the planet – the man who can dictate the future of your entire career with a single word.

And that man knows who I am...

And he wants an article about his son. Written by me. And he’s going to read it. And he’s going to judge me for it. And he might flush my entire career and everything I have worked for straight down the toilet if I don’t do exactly what he wants.

Whatever the hell he wants...

I gotta see Connor Penmayne, then. It’s the only way.

I’ve got to go all the way down these one hundred levels and then all the way to Crystal River and interview this guy before my whole life falls apart.

“Ember?”

“Yep?”

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?”

I put down the glass of water.

“Sorry, I was daydreaming,” I murmur.

Paisley sighs.

“I could tell you were off in fairyland,” my friend says. “Daydreaming. It’s very unlike you. Where have you gone to in your head?”

She’s right. I was off in fairyland - far away from this lunch date in this Thai restaurant downtown, just a few blocks away from the Penmayne media skyscraper. I’ve dashed straight from the meeting with my boss to my lunch rendezvous with my friend.

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