Page 16 of The Firefighter's Fate

“Totally bizarre.”

“I seriously didn’t get it. I asked him about it, and he acted like I was weird for bringing it up.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Paisley replies, taking a bite of her curry. “The state of men in this city...”

I roll my eyes.

“Tell me about it,” I say.

“And what about you, Ember?” my friend asks. “Any dates lined up? Any men catching your eye at work?”

I vigorously shake my head.

“Nope. Not in the slightest. You know me.”

“You’re not planning on ever falling in love, Ember? Really?”

“I’m too damn focused on my career,” I say. “I’m not going to fall in love anytime soon. No plans to. I am having way too much fun doing my job now and traveling the world and exposing corrupt politicians with their grubby hands in the cookie jar than to even think of doing something as crazy as going on a date with some... man. It would take a strange kind of man for me to ever be interested, and I never meet those kinds of men outside of serial killers and drug kingpins, and they’re not exactly the best boyfriend material.”

Paisley just laughs at that and motions for the server to bring us the check.

“I have to agree,” she tells me. “Ember, you will definitely need a very, very strange man to tame you.”

“Yep,” I reply before I take a big gulp of water. “And I’m sure I won’t come along one anytime soon.”

6

EMBER

“Oh, so you’re not fired, then?”

It’s the first thing my editor says when she sees me down in the lobby of the Penmayne building, chatting to Clarice the receptionist.

I slowly turn to my boss.

“I’m still alive, Penelope,” I reply. “Somehow.”

I can see she’s gripping her laptop hard. Her hands are turning white because of the pressure. She’s so damn curious as to how I’m still standing here in the Penmayne skyscraper and not already contemplating a life as a nun.

“What happened?” she asks me. “What did Waylen say to you? How did it go?”

I don’t blame her for being curious - everyone in this building is way too familiar with Waylen Penmayne’s mysterious ways, so it’s strange when things have turned out differently than expected. She was probably packing up my desk upstairs the very next minute I left her office to go to level one hundred to meet the man.

“Waylen gave me a job,” I say.

Penelope’s eyes narrow.

“You were promoted?” she asks, still very confused.

“Not exactly,” I reply. “I have to write an article for him.”

“An article? For Waylen Penmayne? Personally?”

“Yep. He wants me to write a puff piece about his firefighter son who’s shunned his family. It’s to help emotionally manipulate Connor Penmayne to reconnect with his father or something.”

My boss seems even more confused.

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