Page 76 of Hate Notes

She stood on her tiptoes and gave me one last, tender kiss, then touched her fingertips to her lips before turning and rushing out of my office.

I flopped into my chair with a hard sigh when she was gone and stared for a very long time at the folder with the property transfer papers.

Two problems: One, whatever the hell that was definitely felt like it violated our “physical only” agreement. Sure, the words we exchanged weren’t exactly dripping with emotional energy, but that kiss was more than physical. It had felt like a connection. I could still feel it even now, as if an invisible tether had formed between us, keeping her actively on my mind even as she retreated through the office to her desk.

Two, the whole goddamn reason I wanted to avoid this was because I knew she was hiding something that would crushme, and I was hiding something that would crush her. Opening ourselves up to these…feelingswas asking for disaster.

If I signed those papers and Ember found out what it meant, she wouldn’t ever forgive me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could even forgive myself if I signed them.

I lifted the folder and let it hover over the trash can. My thoughts swirled as I held the papers, considering what it would mean to let them go. It would mean changing myself and my vision for Foster Real Estate. It would be a decision of people over profits. It would be a completely different take on the legacy I had been trying to build for the company and the dream I’d been pursuing since my dad passed.

I watched in stunned surprise as I opened my fingers and let the folder thump into the trash. I felt a sickly weight slide off my shoulders as soon as I did—a weight I hadn’t consciously known was there until it was gone.

The gesture was largely symbolic, I knew. Roman could reprint those and have them on my desk in minutes. But he also wouldn’t know I didn’t sign them. I was supposed to send those to legal and have things finalized. Roman would assume I did exactly that until the day Davenport died, I assumed.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a sigh of something like relief. For the first time in a very long time, I also felt a budding glow of warmth inside that was dangerously close to happiness.

35

EMBER

"Remind me why we're doing hot yoga?" I asked, trying to wipe sweat from my eyes without face-planting into my mat.

"Because," Kora said from the pose next to me, "you said you needed to clear your head, and nothing clears your head like trying not to die in hundred-degree heat while pretending to be a pretzel."

She wasn't wrong. It was hard to obsess about Orion when I was focused on not sliding face-first into a puddle of my own sweat. I was also desperately trying not to look at the shockingly large package of the old man in front of me. He was wearing skin-tight, neon blue yoga pants and it looked like he was smuggling a small produce aisle's worth of goods between his legs.

He was also spread-legged and swaying his ass toward me as we all dripped with sweat.

If hell was real, I thought this might actually be it. Maybe I died? Maybe Orion glared at me too hard while I wasn't looking and fried my brain.

"Besides," Kora added as we moved into child's pose, "you kept saying we needed to do something different than sitting around eating ice cream and talking about your love life."

"It's not a love life," I whispered. "It's a... complicated physical arrangement that's becoming increasingly less physical and more complicated."

The woman in front of us snorted.

"Sorry," I muttered. Then I lowered my voice further. "And we haven't even... you know. Gone all the way yet."

"What?" Kora's head whipped toward me so fast she nearly toppled over. "But I thought?—"

"Shhh," the instructor called. "Feel the peace within."

We managed to stay quiet through the rest of class, but the moment we hit the locker room, Kora rounded on me.

"What do you mean you haven't had sex? You've been sneaking around for weeks!"

She was right, of course. Time felt like it was slipping by too fast lately. It had already been two weeks since that first time Orion took me in the closet. It had been days since the tender, confusingly perfect kiss in his office. And now our interactions had taken on an entirely different flavor.

He had softened toward me, losing some of the overtly hostile and cold over-acting from before and landing somewhere on respectful cooperation. It was as if he respected me as an employee and valued my opinion, which was equally weird after working for Cole so many years.

By day, we continued to poke out our plans for Davenport’s factories. Ever since the night of the kiss in his office, Orion seemed like he flipped a switch on his approach, too. I could tell he was finally pouring his efforts fully into putting together a plan of action Davenport would love—not just a plan that suited Foster Real Estate or Orion Foster.

I busied myself with my gym bag, pulling my thoughts back to Kora and her question. "We've done... other things. But not that. It's like we keep getting close and then one of us pulls back."

"Why?"

"I don't know." I tugged out fresh clothes, thinking about how Orion's kisses had changed lately—slower, deeper, like he was trying to memorize me. "It's like we're both afraid crossing that line will make it real. And after that night in his office…”

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