Chapter 14 Iris
IRIS
My smashed model of the studio sits on my desk when I arrive the next day, only someone has glued it back together.
Beside it, there’s a cupcake from Poppy’s Pantry. Chocolate with mint frosting. I glance up from my desk through the open door into Aidan’s office, where I find him watching me. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t so much as smile, but he holds my gaze long enough for me to know.
The cupcake is from him.
My pulse skitters. I glance down to hide my smile, and when I look at him again, he’s focused back on his computer. But a tiny smile of his own tilts his lips.
My heart feels lighter as I look at the Post-it note beside my screen: log onto my computer, check the online calendar, answer emails.
We have another meeting with David Lancaster next week, where Aidan will present him with his plans.
I wonder what he’s decided to do with the studios, then push the thought from my mind.
It’s not my job. I’m an assistant, and even though Aidan said he liked my design—even though he fixed my model, which I look at now with a smile—he was only being nice because I disappeared yesterday.
I think about him showing up at my apartment last night to check on me. Of all places, I never expected to see him there, and certainly didn’t expect him to sit on my old worn chair and drink my shitty instant coffee.
But he was so different last night. He wasn’t scowling Work Aidan, he was Marco’s Aidan. Kind and gentle and sweet, asking me about school, listening so intently. Caring. At least, that’s what it felt like. That’s what it felt like at Marco’s, too.
And the way he said, You’ve been trying your best, his voice so sincere, like he really believes it. I don’t think anyone has said that to me in my life.
And it makes me want him like crazy.
It’s easy to forget about the man I met in the bar when he’s glaring at me across the office, but last night was a reminder that Work Aidan isn’t all there is to him.
That underneath that professional exterior is a man who, just maybe, sees the real me.
And while normally that would scare me, last night I wanted to share.
Wanted him to know the truth. I don’t make a habit of exposing my deepest shame to people, but in that moment, I felt safe to do so because of Aidan.
And that’s intoxicating. It’s one thing to want him because he’s fucking hot, but it’s another thing entirely to want him because he made me feel seen. Understood. Accepted.
Feelings that are so foreign to me, I don’t know what to do with them.
I let my gaze wander to his office again, watching him through the open door.
He must have repaired the broken leg, because he’s back at his drafting table.
A pang of regret hits me when I think of the $800 I spent, but it evaporates as I watch him work.
His suit jacket is gone, the fitted cotton of his shirt revealing the contours of muscle in his shoulders and back.
I’d give anything to walk in there, close the door and slide my hands over him, to feel the heat of him through his shirt.
To sweep everything off his desk and pull him onto it with me.
Aidan pauses, turning to find me watching him. Heat floods my face, and I look away, pulse rushing.
There’s something else I’m not letting myself remember from last night, because it stings too much.
It’s the way he pulled away when I asked him if he ever thought about our stolen moment at Marco’s.
The walls that went back up after I felt closer to him than ever.
How clear he made it, even without words, that nothing will happen between us again.
Even if I desperately want it to.
“Iris?” he calls from his office, and I press my eyes closed. Just hearing him say my name is enough for my thighs to squeeze together. “Can you come in here, please?”
“Of course,” I reply, voice strangled. I swallow, resisting the urge to smack myself in the face to snap out of it. I’m here to do a job. To repay my father for the money I owe, so I can get the hell away from him.
And if dealing with Dad wasn’t enough, Mom sent me a text last night. It said, Don’t give your dad too much trouble, honey. He’s only trying to help, and I nearly threw my phone at the wall.
So, yes. I need to get this loan repaid ASAP so I can get back to my real life.
Whatever that is.
I rise from my desk, determined to focus. To be professional and not make this any more awkward.
Pinning on a smile, I enter Aidan’s office.
“What’s up?” I ask, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his face instead of letting them stray across his tall, muscular form.
But that’s not much better. Not with those intense gunmetal-gray eyes, that sexy beard.
Not with the way he’s looking at me right now.
He tears his gaze away, motioning at something on his drafting table. As I cross to him, I realize it’s one of my sketches. He must have rescued it from the trash.
“Walk me through this,” he says simply.
I falter. He’s asking about my design?
“Uh, what do you want to know?”
He gestures with the pencil in his left hand to the raised platform bed I drew. I watch the motion, mesmerized. Why is it so cute that he’s left-handed?
“Tell me about this raised platform,” he says, oblivious.
I take a deep breath, then explain about not blocking the light, adding storage, separating the bed enough to create a defined bedroom area without cutting the primary space in half. Things I’m certain he already knows, but seems to want to hear me say.
There’s another sketch of mine too, one with a loft over the kitchen like my place, and a more compact kitchenette. He asks me to walk him through that one, nodding quietly as I do.
Finally, when I’m done, he says, “How would you feel about working on this project with me? Helping me turn these into renderings we can present to David?”
My mouth pops open in surprise. He’s asking me to help? He wants me to work on this with him?
“Really?” I ask, taken aback. This is the last thing I expected.
His gaze catches mine, and something I can’t read flickers there. “Really.”
I grin, a thrill passing through me. “I’d love to.”
“How are you with Revit?”
I get a flashback to class, my thoughts jumbling and tangling as I try to keep up with the instructor, palms sweaty, heart racing, everyone else already onto the next step. Disappointment burrows under my ribs. Of course I can’t do this.
“Not good,” I mumble. “It’s one of the reasons…” I let my words trail off, hoping he won’t make me say it. One of the reasons I flunked out.
Aidan softens. His hand moves closer, hovering as if to touch my arm, but he withdraws it. “That’s okay. You keep working by hand, and I’ll get them into Revit.”
I study him cautiously. An unpleasant feeling washes through me, one that makes me want to turn away. It almost… It almost feels as though he’s pitying me. Throwing me a bone after I told him about everything.
And the last thing I want is his pity.
“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want my help on this? You’re an experienced architect. I can’t even use the proper tools. How can I possibly contribute something useful?”
Aidan scratches his jaw, considering my words. “You have a unique perspective on small spaces,” he says at length. “You saw things I completely missed.”
I absorb this, still unconvinced. I’m so used to feeling like I have nothing of value to offer, like more than anything I’m getting in the way, that I don’t quite know how to take it.
Aidan sighs, setting his pencil down. “Look, this isn’t your job. I get it. If you’re not interested, that’s okay. But if you are…” His eyes move over my face for a moment. “I’d love your help. You can bring something to this that no one else can.”
Out of nowhere, tears spring to my eyes, and I glance away.
No one has said anything so nice to me before, and to hear it from Aidan, of all people…
I think of Dad yesterday, telling me to leave it to the people who know what they’re doing, and suddenly I want nothing more than to do this.
To prove to him I’m capable, even with only half a degree to my name. But will he let me?
“What about Dad?” I ask, turning back to Aidan. “I doubt he’ll want me working on this.”
Aidan wrinkles his nose. “You might be right.” He hesitates, then says, “Don’t worry about him, okay? Let’s keep it between us for now. Once David is happy with the plans, John won’t care who they’ve come from.”
I’m not entirely sure that’s true, but the way Aidan says it makes me feel like it could be. I’m not used to having someone on my side, for once, and it makes my chest fill with warmth.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Besides,” Aidan adds, chuffing a small laugh, “we both know David preferred you to me.”
I laugh too. “Well, that’s true.”
We share a smile, my heart kicking against my ribs as Aidan gazes at me.
We might be in his office, but at this moment he’s not Work Aidan, and it’s messing with my head.
I ache to press my lips to his, to show him how grateful I am for this opportunity, how much his kindness means to me.
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering, and my pulse trips when something dark flares in his eyes.
Then he snaps out of it, clearing his throat and looking away. “I’m… going to get coffee,” he mutters, turning to head from the room. I should probably offer to get it for him, since that’s my actual job, but I sense that’s not what he wants.