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“Isn’t that what I’m off to do now?”

“Now, you are. Later, you’re seeing the iceberg that could sink the entire ship.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

EMBER

I’m hot. I’m sweaty. And I fucking hate the Hunter. Or Lucas. Or both.

I’m not really sure.

All I know is I need a cold shower and a glass of wine before trying to make myself look any kind of presentable.

The last eleven months have been hard as hell not being able use public transportation or get in a car, but today I fucking felt it. Summer reared its ugly head a month ago, and I thought I was doing all right, but it turns out I was lying to myself.

The combination of the blaring sun and the hot wind that whipped past me at every street corner, I had to duck into a coffee shop every twenty minutes so I didn’t overheat.

And then on top of that, by the time I reached the general store where I was hoping to charm myself into getting access to their rear entrance camera, I was so sweaty and disgusting that there was no chance anyone would find me attractive or innocent enough to break company policy, making the entire outing pointless.

I stomp up the steps to my apartment, ignoring everyone I pass as I go.

Maybe I should cancel with Orion. I can’t see me being in a very good mood by the time he gets here, and he doesn’t deserve my shitty attitude just because I’m too broken to get in a fucking Uber.

Just the thought has hot tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

Fuck me, my therapist has his work cut out for him.

Reaching the top of the steps, I start down the hallway, but pause when I notice a box sitting on my doorstep.

In my line of work, you learn pretty fucking quickly that suspicious packages are just that. Suspicious.

After a quick list of everyone I’ve pissed off recently flicks through my mind, I decide I haven’t warranted a bomb or anything equally as sinister and approach the box slowly.

I shove my key into the lock and push the door open before bending to carefully pick it up. Again, probably not a bomb, but I haven’t made it to twenty-two without learning to be cautious about anything I don’t absolutely know is safe.

It’s not until I place the box down in the middle of the dining table that I notice the note taped to the top.

Ember,

I’m looking forward to our date tonight.

I saw this dress and thought of you. Please wear it for dinner.

Yours, Orion

I stare at the note for longer than necessary before turning my attention back to the box.

He bought me a dress?

A man went shopping for a dress? For me?

What kind of parallel universe have I slipped and fallen into?

With a steady breath, I use my keys to cut through the tape, and my stomach drops out when I fish the dress from the mountain of tissue paper it’s wrapped in.

Holy fuck.

Holy fucking fuck.