Chapter 10 Iris
IRIS
As I stalk away from the Uber, I’m fuming. How dare he say that? There’s only one person who gets away with talking to me like that: my father. Because that’s what he’s always done.
And I’ve always hated it.
I sigh as I turn onto Fruit Street. Pin oak and ginkgo trees stretch like skeletons toward the gray sky, and I pull my coat tighter in the freezing air.
This week has gone from disaster to absolute shitshow. I thought working for Dad would be my problem, but somehow Aidan is worse. Uptight. Unforgiving. And infuriating.
Not to mention infuriatingly handsome. There must be something seriously wrong with me, because I can’t stop noticing things I shouldn’t, like his warm, spicy cologne, the low rumble of his voice.
Even his glares are hot. My heart jumps whenever he looks at me, even when it’s with disapproval. Especially when it’s with disapproval.
And I can’t stop thinking about that moment we stole together at Marco’s. The way his hand gripped my hair as he fucked my mouth, like he was done being nice and wanted to be rough, but wasn’t sure if I’d like it. Maybe that brutal side has been there all along.
Because he’s damn brutal now. Cutting me down at every turn. Telling Dad I’m not capable. Threatening to fire me. The man has been nothing but awful since I showed up at the firm.
But… confusion clouds my head as I think about the way he looked at me in the Uber just now.
How his nostrils flared as he talked about me falling to my knees for him, how his eyes darkened as he stared at my mouth.
I get the sense his attraction to me hasn’t entirely vanished, and he’s not pleased about it.
Maybe that’s why he’s so hard on me. Raking me over the coals about missing that meeting, despite me apologizing multiple times and learning how to use his precious online calendar. He’s acting like designing these studio apartments is the worst thing to ever happen to him.
Personally, I think they’re exciting. My apartment is a fraction of their size, and I love it. With the extra square feet in the Bushwick places, we have the chance to create something unique and interesting.
Despite Aidan’s attitude, I can’t help but feel a little thrill as I stop in at Joe’s Coffee.
Without the rules and pressure of college, my mind churns with creative possibilities.
Or maybe it’s the chance to design something practical, something real.
At school, everything we did felt abstract and performative, more about looking impressive than solving real-world problems. But these studios…
these are an opportunity to create cozy, livable spaces for people who don’t have million-dollar budgets.
People like me.
I spy a lone cupcake in the counter cabinet, and my heart deflates. I was hoping to grab a few for later, but this will have to do.
Thinking about cupcakes reminds me of Aidan again, and I sigh as the reality of the situation settles, because I’m not the one designing this project, am I?
I’m an assistant, with barely half an architecture degree to my name.
Something Aidan was all too happy to mock when he said, And you’ve got a degree in architecture, do you?
As if that wasn’t clear enough, he drove the message home by pointing out what is and isn’t my job, pointing out I work for him, not with him.
“You okay?” the barista asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I realize with a start I’ve been standing at the counter, staring into the cupcake cabinet for some time, and my face warms. I glance over my shoulder, relieved to find no one else waiting, and when I turn back, the barista smiles warmly. It’s the same woman who served me last time. Daisy.
I give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah. Sorry. Just…”
I shift my weight, wanting desperately to talk to someone about this. Eric’s been out at rehearsals for a new play since Wednesday, and the cast of Brooklyn 99, while hilarious, isn’t so good at listening. Daisy seems kind. She did ask, and suddenly it all comes spilling out in a rush…
“My father is forcing me to work for this really hot older guy, who I hooked up with before I knew who he was, but now it turns out he’s kind of a jerk and it’s messing with my head.”
A rush of air leaves my lungs as the weight of finally saying it aloud lifts, but when I catch Daisy’s eyebrows hitting the ceiling, mortification floods me.
Shit. Why did I say all that?
“I mean, uh…” I rub my forehead, trying to be normal, for once. “I’ll just take the last cupcake, please.”
Daisy’s face softens into a gentle smile. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll bring it over?”
I exhale, relieved she hasn’t laughed at me, or worse, given me that look I got so much growing up. The one that’s a combination of confusion and disgust, like people couldn’t quite work out what was wrong with me, they just knew they didn’t like it.
“Thanks,” I mumble, waving my card over the machine, then finding a table in the corner.
I’m supposed to be back in the office soon, but Aidan can wait a few minutes.
He’ll probably be glad I’m not there. His words from the car come back to me, Most women your age are out there making things happen for themselves, not leaning on Daddy to fix their problems, as if I’m some spoiled princess.
Is that really what he thinks of me? It couldn’t be further from the truth.
Daisy brings me the cupcake, wrapped in a tiny box with the words Poppy’s Pantry on the side, and a steaming cup of something I didn’t order.
“Chamomile tea,” she explains, hovering beside the table. “On the house. Thought… it might help.”
A defeated laugh escapes me. “You don’t have anything stronger?” I joke, and she laughs too, shaking her head.
“No, sorry.”
She hesitates for a second, then motions to the chair opposite, wordlessly asking to join me. I nod.
“So that sounds… complicated,” she murmurs, and I smile grimly.
“It is.” I straighten in my seat, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean to unload that on you, sorry.”
Daisy shrugs. “Hey, I asked.”
“Yeah, but… when people ask if you’re okay, you’re supposed to say you’re fine. It’s like an unspoken rule. Like when someone asks how you are, you’re supposed to say ‘good,’ even if you’re not.”
“I don’t know,” Daisy murmurs, considering this. “It’s kind of nice to be honest, don’t you think? Small talk is so overrated.”
A smile tugs at my lips, despite my shitty morning, and I decide immediately that I like her.
I’ve never been a fan of small talk myself, finding it more painful than pleasant.
Like a trip to the dentist, necessary but ultimately something I’d rather avoid.
Usually, I can summon the energy to say what I’m supposed to, to smile when I should, but sometimes I get so exhausted by it all. Today seems to be one of those days.
“You’re right,” I agree.
She twirls the ring on her left hand. A yellow stone surrounded by tiny diamonds that form the shape of a daisy.
How sweet. Someone must love her dearly.
What would it be like to have that? Not the ring, but someone who’s prepared to stand by you, no matter what.
I’ve never even had a friend like that. The closest I’ve got is Eric.
I reach for the tea, taking a sip of the fragrant brew, and Daisy smiles.
“So, you’re stuck in this job because of your dad,” she summarizes. “And you’re attracted to the guy you’re working for, but he’s a jerk.”
“In a nutshell.” I pause, then decide there’s more to it. “But the thing is… he’s not actually a jerk? I don’t know. When we met, he was really kind, and he listened to me ramble on…” An awkward laugh slips from me as I look back at Daisy. “Like you are.”
She laughs too, motioning around us. “It’s quiet, and I’m bored. Ramble away.”
I smile. That weirdly makes me feel better.
“But you met outside of work, right?” Daisy continues. “You mentioned it was before you knew who he was.”
I nod. “We met at a bar, over lunch, the day before I started. Had a couple of drinks, went to the restroom together…” I trail off, expecting Daisy to wrinkle her nose in distaste, but she takes it in stride.
“People are different outside of work,” she murmurs. “You see a different side to them.”
“That’s true.” I hadn’t considered that, but it makes sense.
The guy I met at the bar wasn’t Work Aidan.
He wasn’t nearly as uptight. It’s hard to imagine Work Aidan accepting a blowjob during the day.
Or maybe it’s not. I think again of that burning look in his eye a few moments ago, then shake it off.
“The thing is,” I continue, dipping the teabag absently, “I actually think I could help him with this project we have, but he won’t listen to a word I say.”
“That sucks.” Daisy tilts her head in thought. “But could you just… work on the project anyway? Like, show him how good it could be, so he has to accept your help?”
I consider this. Could I do that? Draft plans for the place myself? Despite bombing spectacularly at Revit, I have the skills to draft by hand.
But Dad hired me as an assistant. Would I really have the balls to believe I could contribute to a client proposal?
I turn this over in my mind as I bite into the cupcake. An explosion of tart lemony sweetness hits my tongue, and I groan. “This is amazing,” I tell Daisy. Better than the ones uptown, and that’s saying a lot.
Daisy beams. “Isn’t it? My friend Poppy makes them.”
I nod, polishing off the treat and wishing they had more, but I should probably get back to the office.
“Thanks for listening,” I say, wiping my hands and rising to go. “And for the tea. You’re right, I needed it.”
She smiles, standing too. “You’re welcome.”