Page 47 of Our Radiant Embers

“Her name is Lila. If you don’t pass inspection, she’ll go for the eyes first.”

“You may want to work on your skills as a host,” I recommended. “As a general rule, people feel more welcome if you don’t threaten them with killer tech.”

“Says the guy who’s got armed guards patrolling the grounds.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’re friendly. If you pass inspection, that is.”

“Good morning,” Gale chimed in, instantly quieter now that it wasn’t just the two of us.

Liam’s expression softened. “Hey, great to see you again. Thanks for doing this.”

“He’s never this nice to me,” I informed Gale in a loud whisper that was meant to carry. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”

“I’m exactly as nice as you deserve,” Liam said. Something about the curve of his mouth implied an invitation. And what if I’m naughty? I caught Gale’s arched eyebrow and swallowed the innuendo on the tip of my tongue.

We moved into the kitchen to discuss the day’s plan over truly atrocious coffee. “Not everyone has space for a coffee machine the size of a Chinese car,” Liam told me when I complained, and that was valid.

But also…“If you offer this to clients, you won’t have any.”

“I’d rather my clients choose substance over style.” While Liam strove for a grave tone, I caught the glint of a smile in his eyes.

“Sometimes, Liam, the aesthetics of competence are more important than the evidence of it.”

“Is that the Harrington motto?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a grin, toasting him with my cup. “Got it in one.”

“Do your meetings always go like this?” Gale asked.

“Only the good ones,” I told him.

Gale snorted. “And the bad ones?”

I glanced at Liam just as Liam glanced at me. Heat twisted in my gut. ‘You’re a second from dropping to your knees for me.’

“Never mind,” Gale muttered, a faint note of amusement in his voice. “I don’t think I want to know.”

One corner of Liam’s mouth lifted as he looked away. I remembered to do the same, stomach a tinge heavy with something I couldn’t name.

It was nothing.

10

LIAM

Jack and Laurie were lurking like two particularly unsubtle shadows. I wasn’t sure what they expected Adam to do—explode into a pillar of flames like a fairytale phoenix?

Not going to happen. I needed precision rather than sheer power.

The induction cooktop sat on the workbench that faced the backyard, light streaming in through a row of greasy windows that desperately needed a clean. Above our heads, the occasional clang, thump, and clunk accompanied the office construction, Gale overseeing the contractors who’d arrived with two lorries that carried pre-assembled elements. If any neighbours asked, the necessary permits had been obtained weeks ago—unsurprisingly, the Harringtons kept someone on their payroll who could wave through smaller projects and backdate them as needed.

“This is what a stove looks like under the covering?” Adam studied the cooker coils, each of them a tightly wound spiral of copper wire.

“Induction stoves, yes. Not that you’d know the difference to a normal electric resistance stove given you don’t, you know, cook.” I flashed him a smile.

Adam leaned in slightly, tilting his head. “Pretty sure I’ve got one of these in my flat, actually.”

“For decorative purposes, I take it?” I asked, and Laurie sighed.

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