Page 55 of Hate Notes

So my employees were gossiping about me and Ember. I could shut down the rumors with a clear and concise memo. Something to the effect of, "your rumors are unfounded, and your assumptions are grounds for disciplinary action. Cease any and all speculation instantly" would likely do the trick. Even if they still wanted to imagine they understood what was going on, they would at least be too frightened to voice it aloud.

But it also wasn't as if I had ever tried too hard to stamp out inter-office relationships. I knew some saw it was a massive issue, but I had never seen the need to care. People would secretly date if they knew they weren’t allowed to date openly. That only led to wasted time at the office, distractions, and gossiping, just like what Daniel was telling me about.

I grinned to myself and ran a hand down my face. I let my employees openly date if they chose to avoid exactly what I was causing with my own secret pseudo-relationship.

Wonderful.

But the power imbalance between myself and Ember was something to consider. If my…interestin her was out in the open, people would likely question her merits within the company. Promotions or opportunities would be seen as favoritism.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as a sudden headache threatened to come on.

This was all the exact flavor of nonsense I had always strived to avoid. Running a company successfully was more than enough work on a good day, even without external factors. Now I found myself wasting minutes every hour with my unhealthy fascination.My infatuation. My obsession.

That's precisely what Ember had become, wasn't it? I thought about her at all hours of the day. I let memories and fantasies of her interrupt my work hours and throw off my routines. Instead of avoiding screens before bed, I was sending perverse emails to her with full knowledge that she would respond by touching herself at my command.

And I loved it.

The headache seemed to pound even harder. I was rifling through my drawer for a bottle of pain relievers when my intercom buzzed.

"Mr. Foster?" Daniel said through the speaker. "Mr. Davenport is here early."

Damn it. I wasn't prepared. I'd been hoping to talk strategy with Ember first. It annoyed me to admit it, but Ember had her finger on the old man’s pulse. I only seemed to alienate him when I spoke.

"Send him up," I said, straightening my tie and standing to wait outside my office for his arrival.

The elevator dinged moments later, and I heard Ember's laugh before I saw her. She was walking with Davenport, showing him something on her phone.

Eyes lifted all around the office as the pair approached. Some looked at Davenport with open curiosity—likely hearing abouthow hard we were all trying to win this contract and wondering what was special. Others looked at Ember with a wide range of emotions ranging from what seemed like jealousy, amusement, or even happiness.

"And this one," Ember was saying, "is wearing a little rain hat!"

"Delightful!" Davenport chuckled. "Eleanor's quite the collector. Though I prefer my rubber ducks. More appropriate given my background, wouldn't you say?"

Something in his tone caught my notice. From the look on Ember’s face, she hadn’t missed it either. Davenport had said Eleanor’s name with a kind of warmth I hadn’t heard from the man. There was also an odd familiarity in how he spoke about her collection.

"You know Eleanor?" I asked. “She’s also a client of ours,” I added, hoping the shared connection would be another factor pushing him toward working with us.

"Oh yes," he said, his weathered face softening with what might have been nostalgia. "We go back... quite a ways. I actually gave her her first duck, you know. A rubber one, from my father's factory." He cleared his throat, seeming to catch himself. "But that was a lifetime ago. Now, about these proposals..."

I filed away the odd moment, noting how quickly he changed the subject. There was clearly a story there, but whatever it was, Davenport wasn't ready to tell it.

There was an awkward pause as they stood just outside my office, Davenport’s watery blue eyes watching me expectantly.

Finally, he smiled and gave a small wink. “I can see I ruffled your feathers showing up early.Good.People with ruffled feathersare far more interesting. And Miss Hartwell was kind enough to show me her ceramic waterfowl spreadsheet. It’s quite detailed—really extraordinary work.”

What the hell was every client’s sudden fascination with ducks?

I noticed Ember's slight flush at that. She wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Shall we?" I gestured to my office.

Davenport took the chair across from my desk and Ember settled in beside him, crossing one leg. Like usual, it didn’t matter how serious the circumstances were. My memory still flashed with an image of her spreading her legs for me and flashing her panties, along with the slightly dark patch of arousal I had seen there.

That single image had been haunting me for weeks, and I already lost track of how many times I had fucked my hand to the thought of it. The woman was single-handedly unraveling me, and I wondered if she even knew it.

Davenport cleared his throat, yanking me from my perverse thoughts to the present. "I've been thinking about what Miss Hartwell said about legacy."

I glanced at Ember, but she was suddenly very interested in her notebook.

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