Page 74 of Hate Notes

"I heard laughing from your office earlier," Roman continued. "During the Davenport meeting. Actual laughing."

"Is there a point to this, Roman?"

"Just that..." He hesitated. "Some of us have noticed Miss Hartwell's influence on?—"

"That will be all."

He nodded and practically fled, leaving me alone with the damning paperwork and thoughts of Ember. Always of Ember lately.

I couldn't stop remembering how she'd looked in that closet, flushed and wanting. How she'd gasped my name. And then her mere presence during the meeting with Davenport felt like it had encouraged that new side of me to come out. Instead of tanking the meeting, her influence hadsavedit.

Ember made me want to be better, and I hadn’t even realized there was anything wrong with my approach before she showed up in my life.

Speaking of chaos incarnate…

I saw Ember approaching my office with something tucked under her arms. Unlike the last few weeks, she was smiling and exchanging a few words with other employees on her way to my office. One by one, they were embracing her as one of their own.

Of course they were.

Ember entered carrying a stack of papers, looking professional except for the slight darkening of her cheeks when our eyes met. I wondered if she was remembering the closet, too.

"So," she said, closing the door. "I have some thoughts about Davenport's factories."

"I'm sure you do."

She narrowed her eyes at my tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." I gestured to the chair across from me. "Please, enlighten me."

She sat, crossing her legs in a way that made me grip my pen too tight. "First, we need to talk about…”

I listened as Ember outlined her vision, watched her eyes light up as she described community programs and historical exhibits alongside profitable renovations. She saw so much potential—not just for profit, but for actual good.

The folder with the property transfer documents felt like it was burning a hole in my desk. Those documents outlined the legal steps we would need to take to guarantee Davenport’s properties would transfer to Foster Real Estate the moment he died. All I had to do was sign in a few places and hope Davenport officially contracted us for the project. After that, it was as good as done.

But…

I watched Ember’s eager and beautiful face as she continued to talk and read from her paper. She genuinely cared, and she was excited to make Davenport’s dreams a reality. She cared about him, the properties,andFoster Real Estate. Somehow, her plan was good for all three, too. Sure, a relatively minor contract to do some renovations and maintenance on old factories would hardly move the needle on our profits for the year, but it wouldn’t be a loss. It would also look good for future clients and potentially bring us more business in the future.

Davenport would obviously be happy and so would anybody who still cared about those old factories.

But signing those transfer papers… that would take Foster Real Estate and launch the company into financial orbit. We would instantly go from “one of the top ten” real estate companies in Manhattan tothetop company. If any part of me still felt like my mission to reach the top was in progress, it would be put to rest the moment we took ownership of those properties.

"You're staring," Ember said suddenly.

"You're remarkable," I replied before I could stop myself.

Her breath caught. "I—do you—" Ember cleared her throat and composed herself slightly. “Professionally speaking, or?”

“Both,” I admitted.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about anything but work when we weren’t,you know,” she added, cheeks reddening and voice lowering.

"This arrangement of ours… it has proven more complicated than I anticipated.”

“You’re the one who suggested it,” Ember said.

"I know." I stood, walking to the window.

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