Shelved Promises (Lamebrains #3)

PROLOGUE

Iris

TEN YEARS AGO

That soft ten-minute dip between the dinner-drunk professionals and the rowdy ones who’ll stumble in next is here.

I finish rinsing the shaker, slide the last empty coupe glass onto the drying rack, and press my palms to the cool wooden counter.

My feet ache like hell. Double shift. Again.

But all I can think about is the text thread lighting up my screen in the back pocket of my apron.

Levi: Are you surviving?

Me: Barely. I’ve lost sensation in both calves.

Levi: My poor Iris. I’ll rub those feet for you for the price of lemon blueberry pancakes.

Me: Bold of you to presume that you’re staying over.

Levi: Can’t I?

Me: Don’t make it weird, Mr. Astor!

Levi: Well… still love you. Even though I’m being deprived of sustenance.

Me: You better.

Levi: I meant what I said btw. You and me. That little apartment in Vancouver. Just a few more months.

I don’t reply right away. Mostly because if I do, I’ll cry again. The future feels so bright lately, it’s almost terrifying.

Stanford MBA by day, barback by night.

It’s been a hard couple years. But with Levi—God—with Levi, it felt worth it.

He believes in me like I’m capable of anything. Like I’m more than just the scholarship girl with a bartending side hustle and a family that cares more for my siblings than me.

I’m not a black sheep or anything. But both my older siblings are achieving things I could never dream of. And I’ve never been invited to be a part of that blinding success—let alone outshine them.

I pull my phone out again and type back quickly.

Me: First, it’s a fucking penthouse and not little even by YOUR spoiled ass standards. Second, I MIGHT love you more. It’s still debatable.

I’m smiling when I tuck the phone away. Still smiling when I start wiping down the counter.

That’s when I see her.

An older woman, impeccably dressed, wiping my smile right off my face.

She’s wearing a silk blouse, gold accessories that don’t look plated, and that kind of smooth grey hair that says ‘my blowout costs more than your rent.’ She’s got this slow, elegant poise—like she expects me to know her favorite drink just by her gaze.

But she looks completely out of place here.

She doesn’t speak right away. Just eyes me—up and down.

There’s something vaguely familiar about her.

A second figure steps up beside her. Tall, stern, slightly jowled. Expensive coat. And a sharp, appraising gaze that lands on me like a gavel.

I go still.

I know them. Not personally. But I’ve seen the photos. In frames. In news articles. In the stupid, overachieving Google searches I made when Levi told me his family is financially ‘comfortable’.

Thomas and Odette Astor are standing at my bar.

And I suddenly can’t feel my hands.

“Hello,” I manage when they refuse to speak, trying my best to sound steady. “W-What can I get you?”

Odette’s gaze drags over the counter, then the glassware, then me. “Oh, I see you really do work here?” She says it like a punchline. Because of course, I fucking work here. “I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. Levi did say you were… crafty.”

There it is. Levi hasn’t told them about me at all. Yet here they are, having tracked me down.

Thomas gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We won’t keep you long. Perhaps you can… take a short break?”

“I—uh, I’m actually in the middle of closing—”

“Oh, I’m sure they can spare you for ten minutes,” Odette cuts in, a hundred-dollar bill suddenly in front of me. “You’re not indispensable here, are you?”

My throat tightens. “No, ma’am.”

“Good.” She doesn’t smile. Just nods toward one of the corner booths. “Let’s talk over there.”

I tell Marcus, the other bartender, that I’ll be back in five. He nods, distracted. I walk over, pulse thrumming like I’ve been caught doing something wrong.

Odette’s perfume reaches me before her words do. Expensive and cold. Thomas sits beside her, posture perfect, gaze fixed on me like he’s reading a report that’s already failed to impress him.

“So,” Odette begins, crossing one leg over the other. “Levi tells us you’re moving with him to Vancouver after graduation.”

Her tone is casual but it’s not a question. For a moment, I doubt myself. Did Levi actually tell his high-handed parents about me? He told me he was going to wait.

Now I understand why he hadn’t—even after almost two years together.

“Yes,” I say quietly. “We’re… planning to.”

She hums. “He mentioned the penthouse. Two months from now, yes?”

My heart drops. “Yes. It—the move is finalized. I’m just waiting for—”

“Mm.” Thomas finally speaks, his voice calm, even measured. “That property belongs to Astor Holdings, darling. I’m afraid that won’t be possible. For Levi, yes. You… not so much.”

I blink at his audacity. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

He leans forward slightly. “Levi’s future has been carefully structured since he was born. His living arrangements, his transition into the company—everything. It’s not personal, you understand?”

I stay silent, eyes darting between the two of them.

Odette tilts her head, eyes glinting. “Oh, but it is personal, isn’t it? You’re in love with him.”

I swallow hard debating whether I should even answer.

“Are you?” Thomas asks with an infuriating smirk on his face.

“I… yes, I am.”

“Then do what’s best for him,” she says softly. “Don’t stand in his way.”

“Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Astor.” Something inside me stutters. “This is… this is betw—”

Thomas sighs, as if he’s explaining something tedious. “You seem like a bright young woman, Iris Desmond. Ambitious. Stanford is a great school you’ve managed to get into, despite your… monetary deficiencies. But surely you understand that certain choices have consequences.”

He slides a document across the table. The logo of one of Vancouver’s elite consulting firms—the one that had just offered me a position. The one I’d been raving about with Levi a few days ago, and was planning to accept soon.

I stare at the document, my heart sinking. It’s an official statement confirming their newest partnership with Astor Holdings.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Odette says, almost gently. “It’s an excellent firm. Though they do rely heavily on our portfolio accounts, as of one week ago. I’d hate to see a promising start vanish over something so… trivial.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

My chest tightens. I can’t even breathe.

Trivial. My relationship with Levi is trivial to them. An obstacle.

They don’t raise their voices. They don’t need to. Fuck. I somehow knew they wouldn’t approve of me. Not with the way Levi described his childhood.

Odette smiles faintly, lowering her voice. “You come from a good family, I’m sure. But it’s not a fit, you see? Levi’s life, his role, our legacy—requires something you don’t have, unfortunately.”

“Mrs. Astor—”

She interrupts smoothly. “Your parents, for instance. Retired, aren’t they? Teachers, both of them. Your brother, Dylan—” she glances at Thomas, pretending to recall, “—an… unemployed vagabond? And your sister, Amelia, was it? A low-level government employee?”

She’s fucking FBI, but a government employee—sure. But Dylan isn’t an unemployed vagabond. My throat itches to tell her that he’s CIA special ops. But I can’t. Legally, I can’t.

The air leaves my lungs. “How—how do you even—”

“We know everything about the people who orbit our son,” Thomas says simply. “You’re bright, Iris. You’ll land on your feet. Just not… with him. Understood?

My mouth goes dry. I want to tell them that I love him. That Levi isn’t them. That he wouldn’t want this. That he’d fight it.

But Odette’s next words crush that fragile thought. “You should know, dear, that if you tell him about this conversation, we’ll deny it. You’ll look… desperate. Opportunistic. And perhaps your parents’ retirement fund will also shrink… to zero.”

This can’t be real.

She smiles as she rises, adjusting her cuffs. “It’s a terrible thing when love isn’t enough. But, I assure you—he’ll find it again. With the right woman.”

And with that, they leave. But not before exchanging a look that has panic clawing in my chest.

The low hum of the music is somehow jarring now. And I sit there long after they’re gone, shaking. My hands gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles ache.

Because I know what they’re saying is true.

Levi is the legacy. The heir. The perfect son.

He was always meant to inherit the empire that I was never supposed to touch.

He has wanted it for years—craved it, even.

His ambitious plans have always sprinkled into our conversations.

It’s something he has never strayed from.

Something he’s molded his career path toward.

And no matter how much I love him, I know exactly what I have to do.