Chapter Nine. Ember
CHAPTER NINE
Ember
“Sooo … Something you need to tell us? I don’t know.” Jaq shrugs, sliding their hands in the front pockets of their purple plaid suspender pants. “Anything you’d like to get off your chest? Maybe—just a wild guess here, but—an engagement?”
Shit.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing it.
The headache behind my right eye throbs a little harder.
Not only did I not get a lot of sleep last night—my mind instinctually skirts away from why I didn’t—but I had to be at the lab early to meet Perla, Gus, and Jaq to update them on the change in plans.
And I needed to do that in the secret lab at HoC where we would be safe from any eyes and ears before the workday started.
A pain unfurls in my chest, and I rub the small ping.
I can’t help but think how we should have been in the lab at my house by now, but because of recent events, this will continue to be our home for at least the next three years.
I have to remind myself a dream deferred is not a dream denied.
“Please tell me how you’re aware of that, given the announcement was made just last night to a select amount of people at a private dinner,” I say, dropping my arm and fixing a steady, unblinking stare on them.
But this is Jaq, so they are completely unbothered by the threat implicit in my voice. They prop their arm on the shelf holding the tablets and shrug.
“I have my sources.” When I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, they smile. “Perla. Perla is my sources.”
I silently groan and shift my attention to my lead lab assistant.
“The fuck, Perla.”
“Justus came over last night,” she says with a chagrined smile. Adjusting her glasses, she holds up her hands, palms out. “We fucked and then had a little pillow talk afterward.”
“In other words, she put the power of the pussy on him, and he confessed his Social Security number, where Jimmy Hoffa was buried, and every detail of what went down at that dinner last night.” Jaq snorts. “Hard to believe the unassuming li’l pixie got the Jaws of Life between her legs.”
Perla grins, skimming her purple bangs out of her eyes and picking up one of the cups of coffee that I brought in for the four of us this morning since I called them in so early.
“Are you attached to Justus?”
She’s no fool; she knows what I’m asking.
This Justus could be a loyal Cross soldier—if he was allowed to be in attendance last night, then chances are he is—but obviously his mouth runs like a geriatric bladder.
If a good nut can make him gossip about an engagement, then how easily would he tell other shit under the right, or wrong, circumstances?
Nah, Justus gotta go. Like I said, Perla understands my reasons for asking about her affection for this man.
Yet, her smile doesn’t slip as she shakes her head.
“Not particularly.”
I nod and pull out my cell phone. Reluctantly, I text the burner phone of the one person I intended to avoid for at least the next month, letting him know he has a leak in the house that needs to be tightened up.
I follow it up with an emoji of a set of scales.
Before I can tuck the phone away, it pings with a reply.
An “Okay.” That’s it, that’s all. I don’t know why I expected a little more.
Something a little more … personal. I mean, just because I gave Asad my virginity and he reshaped my pussy so it now looks like a mold of his dick, that’s no reason for him to text me anything more than “Okay.” Just because he sucked the lining and the soul out of my pussy doesn’t mean he should’ve asked if I was “Okay.”
Dammit.
I stuff the cell back in the pocket of my lab coat and violently shut down that line of thought, in turn sending another bolt of pain to my temples.
Focus on immediate business and not how my guts were rearranged.
“Since you already know about my”—my mouth twists, and I clench my jaw before grinding out—“engagement, this changes things up for us. Plans to move this lab to my property? They will have to be postponed.”
“For how long?” Gus asks with a frown, straightening up from his sprawl in the chair where we do our experimenting on the test subjects.
“Three years.”
“The fuck?” he snaps, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.
“What he said,” Jaq cosigns. “What’s going on?”
I sigh, running a hand over my hair. “The abridged version is this marriage with Asad isn’t by choice, but I had to make the best out of a fucked-up situation.
” I deliberately leave out the part about the threat to their lives.
“I have to stay married and an employee of Cross for three more years before I’m completely free, no ties except for a percentage of the profits from Glass Slipper and HEA. ”
“What about Fairy Dust?” Perla frowns. “We’re closer than ever to perfecting it. Are you going to put that on hold for three years, too?”
I’m already shaking my head. “Hell no. We’re going forth with that as planned.
I already have a distributor lined up. His territory is in the South—from Atlanta to Miami.
So there’s no conflict with Cross. For now.
” Relief passes over their faces. “And to be clear, we’re partners in this.
I might have designed the drug, but you three have been invaluable in bringing it to fruition.
Same with Glass Slipper and HEA. When the time comes, we’ll take numbers so you’ll receive a percentage of those profits as well. You’ve more than earned it.”
“Ember, you don’t have to—”
“Speak for yourself,” Jaq cuts Gus off. “Don’t be blocking my blessing.”
Perla giggles, while Gus mugs Jaq. And I find my first smile of the day.
“I know three years sounds like a long time; I get it,” I say, holding my hands up, palms out in the age-old gesture of hold on.
“But it’s just a setback. In the meantime, we could use that time to design another drug after we see how Fairy Dust does in the streets.
The time will fly by, and then we’ll all be free of this place and this organization. ”
I try to inject optimism into my voice, but if the raised eyebrows and scrunched noses are anything to go by, I failed. Epically.
“Shit, fine.” I sigh. “These next three years are going to be long as a muthafucka and probably just as hard, but we can use them to our advantage so we come out of it set for life.”
“That has to be the most depressing pep talk ever,” Gus says after a long, silent moment.
Jaq nods. “Big facts.”
“Ember.” Perla studies me from behind her blue-and-gold frames. “Are you good? I feel like there’s more to this than you’re sharing with us.”
That’s the trouble when your employees become friends—they come to see beneath the facade.
But as badly as I need to share this burden with someone, I can’t.
Not only am I still their boss, but keeping the whole truth from them is for their protection.
They may work for the Cross organization, but they’re still not privy to the inner workings and information that could have them end up like Carter.
And I love them enough to continue to shield them from that possible ending.
“I’m fine.” I don’t force a smile because they would see right through it. “Did I foresee this happening? No. But it is what it is, and this is just another pool of bullshit I have to wade through.” I retrieve my cell from my pocket again. “It’s seven. Let’s head out to the main lab.”
Seeming to get that I’d like to drop the subject, they walk ahead of me to the door. Within moments, we exit and step into the sterile room to begin our day. Jaq, Perla, and Gus move to their stations, and it doesn’t take long before they’re immersed in their work.
As I head to the temperature-controlled cabinet to grab a sample of HEA, my phone chimes with a notification. I remove my cell from my lab coat pocket once again and glance down at the screen. A text box from Asad fills the bottom of the screen. I tap on it and scan the message and frown.
“The hell?” I mutter, reading the words on the screen for a second time, and then a third.
But no, they remain the same. Asad is demanding my presence in the conference room on the second floor. A burst of emotions scatter through me—confusion, disquiet, nervousness.
In all my years of working at HoC, I’ve never been called to the second floor, the secure space where Cross business is discussed. I’ve had no reason to—as a woman, I had no place there. So to be summoned to the inner sanctum of the organization now …
“Hey, I’ll be back. I have a meeting. Not sure how long this will take, but I’ll text if it’s going to be longer than a couple of hours,” I inform Perla, Gus, and Jaq.
Rightfully, the three of them glance up, wearing matching expression of bewilderment. They, too, recognize I’ve never been asked to attend a meeting. It’s not just unusual, it’s an aberration.
“Okay,” Perla says, drawing the word out. She looks over her shoulder at the other two before returning her gaze to me. “Just hit us with a thumbs-up text in the group chat or something to let us know you’re good.”
“Or alive,” Jaq adds. They’re not joking.
Shit, me neither.
I nod, then turn and head for the lab door and slip out of my white coat. Minutes later, I step out of the elevator onto the second floor, and my footsteps are swallowed by the oatmeal-colored carpet.
Nerves jump in my stomach like a live wire.
I’m not sure what I’m walking into, or why I’m walking into it at all.
And there’s no noise leaking from the closed doors on either side of the corridor to give me any hint since this whole floor is soundproof.
The hallway is no different from any other in this building: carpet, generic photographs of famous LA hotspots and landscapes on the wall, just … plain and nondescript.