Chapter 16 Iris
IRIS
The following week, Aidan and I meet with David Lancaster to present my design for the Bushwick studios. I spend the morning anxiously pacing the offices until my father barks at me to “Settle down, Iris!” and I force myself to sit at my desk, my knee jiggling with nerves.
Thank God he doesn’t know. I was worried Aidan would push me to tell him I’m working on this project, but he’s been surprisingly chill. With that off my plate, I’ve got plenty of time to worry about David’s reaction to my design.
“These are brilliant,” David tells Aidan in his British lilt. “I may have underestimated you.”
Aidan’s eyes flick to mine. “You need to thank Iris. The plans are hers.”
David looks at me in surprise. “I thought you were an assistant?”
My stomach drops. I glance from David to Aidan, feeling a clutch of panic. Why did Aidan tell him? More to the point, had I really thought I’d get away with this? I’m punching above my weight here, and we both know it.
“I, um…” I begin, and Aidan seamlessly swoops in.
“Iris is working as my assistant, yes, but she has architecture training.”
I stare at him, my pulse settling. Since flunking out, I’ve found it difficult to consider my time in college anything other than a waste. Money down the drain. But I like the way he says it, like those two and a half years might have meant something. Not a degree, but not nothing.
“I’ve overseen the designs myself,” Aidan adds, but David waves a hand.
“You know what? I don’t care. They’re better than I could have imagined.”
My breath rushes out in relief. Aidan’s gaze settles on mine, mouth tilting in a smile, and there’s a flutter in my chest.
“You have such a clear understanding of how to utilize small spaces,” David says, rising to shake my hand.
“She does, doesn’t she?” Aidan agrees quietly, eyes sparkling.
I scramble to my feet, extending my hand to David. “Thank you so much. I’m glad you like them.”
“You and me both.”
As he exits the conference room, I turn to Aidan with a beaming smile. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can.” Aidan gazes at me, a look I can’t quite read on his face. He’s smiling, a soft, knowing smile, like he didn’t expect any other outcome. Like…
Shit. Like he’s proud of me.
I’m not sure I’ve seen that look on someone’s face before—not directed at me, anyway. It makes my heart press against my ribs, makes emotion fill my chest. Makes me want to brush my lips against his.
Aidan tears his gaze from mine, grabbing his laptop from the conference room table, motioning for me to head out.
I’m buzzing as I walk the stairs to our floor, unable to quell my huge grin.
David loved the plans. One of my designs will become a reality for the first time.
I’ll walk through the space I crafted so carefully.
See it. Touch it. I might not have a degree to my name, but I have this.
And that’s pretty freaking cool.
Dad catches Aidan and me as we arrive at the top of the stairs, his gaze moving between our smiling faces.
“Lancaster happy?”
“Thrilled,” Aidan says.
“Great work, Brooks.” Dad gives a nod of approval. “I knew you could handle it.”
A flicker of disappointment passes through me, seeing Dad congratulate Aidan on my designs, but I brush it off. It’s better if he doesn’t know.
I turn toward my desk, but Aidan’s hand lands on my arm. When I glance back, he motions toward my father, who’s already heading back to his office.
“Tell him.”
I hesitate. The plan was to tell Dad after David approved the designs, but the thought of saying it makes my gut churn. Maybe I should wait until after the work is completed, when he can see it with his own eyes. When he can’t stop it from going ahead.
But before I can stew on it any further, Aidan’s hand nudges my lower back, steering me toward Dad’s office.
“We’ll tell him together,” he says softly. “You deserve the credit for this, Iris. Not me.” Aidan knocks on the doorframe of Dad’s open office door. “John, got a minute?”
Dad glances up from his desk. “What is it?”
“I thought you should know…” Aidan glances at me, waiting for me to step in, but my throat closes, and I can’t make myself say it. “The designs that David loved weren’t mine,” Aidan tells him. “They were Iris’s.”
Dad glances from Aidan to me, processing this. A deep V forms between his brows, and I suck in a shaky breath.
“Yours?” he asks, gaze boring into mine. “Why?”
“I…” I swallow, trying to find the words. “I had some ideas…”
“She has a far better understanding of small spaces than I do,” Aidan says kindly. “She saw aspects I didn’t even consider.”
Dad’s frown somehow deepens even more. “She’s not an architect.”
Aidan nods, as if he’d expected this. “No, but she has the basic skills. Her ideas are good, and I oversaw her work.”
“That’s not the point!” Dad says, fist slamming on the desk.
The noise makes me jump, and I step back, hitting my shoulder on the doorframe. Pain zaps down my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the terror I feel when Dad directs his furious gaze at me.
“This firm has high standards, Iris, and the last thing I need is for you to ruin that. I told you not to get involved.”
I shrivel. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
“You’re an assistant,” he hisses. “Your job is to get coffee and manage schedules, and you can’t even do that right.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Honestly, it’s like you’ve forgotten why you’re here.”
Shame crashes through me, sharp and hot, erasing any positive feelings from earlier. He’s right, isn’t he? I got carried away making those designs, encouraged by Aidan’s enthusiasm, but that doesn’t make me an architect. Not even close.
My eyes well with tears, and I raise a trembling hand to hide my face. Spinning on my heel, I rush from the room. I turn toward the bathroom, but I have to pass the kitchen to get there, and Dani’s at the coffee machine, eyes dancing with amusement.
“You okay, sweetie?” she asks, her tone more taunting than concerned. A question that doesn’t really need answering.
Desperate, I duck into Aidan’s office and sink onto his Chesterfield sofa, dropping my head into my hands as I force myself to take deep breaths, trying to keep it together.
The polished toes of Aidan’s loafers appear in my vision a moment later, and my heart clenches.
Great. Dad has no doubt made him realize he’s made a mistake letting me work on this project, and now he’s here to tell me as much. To put me in my place, as his assistant. This sucks, and after things had been going so well. After it finally felt like we were on the same team.
I press a shaking hand to my forehead. “If you’re here to also tell me what a terrible job I’m doing, can you please just give me five minutes?”
Aidan crouches in front of me. “I’m not,” he says, his tone so gentle, I glance up. His gray eyes move between mine, ringed with concern. “Actually…” He hesitates, as if debating something, then rises, striding from the room again.
My pulse spikes as I watch him leave. Shit, what’s he doing now? I’m reminded of the day I started, when Aidan marched into Dad’s office to tell him I couldn’t be his assistant, and panic grips me. He wouldn’t do that, would he? I lurch to my feet, trailing behind him to my father’s office.
“John?” Aidan says, hands on his hips as he fills the doorframe. “A word?” I hover behind him, torn between wanting to flee the building and needing to hear what he’s going to say.
“What is it?” Dad asks, voice edged with irritation. I can’t see him from where I’m hiding behind Aidan, but I can tell he’s not pleased.
“You don’t need to tell my assistant what to do,” Aidan says firmly. “I can handle it.”
Oh. Fuck. Dad will not tolerate that.
“She needs to learn how to do her damn job,” he snaps.
“She is,” Aidan says carefully. “Her job is to assist me, however I need it.”
Wait.
He’s… he’s defending me? My mouth falls open as he continues.
“I asked for Iris’s help. I saw what she could do and knew it would be of benefit to the client. So, if you have an issue with that, please take it up with me, not her.”
Then he turns so abruptly he nearly crashes into me, and I scramble after him as he stalks back to his office.
When I enter the room, Aidan paces behind his desk, hands balled into fists, breathing hard.
I waver, wondering if I should leave him alone, but something propels me closer. If nothing else, I need to thank him.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Dani watching from her desk, and my jaw hardens. I shove the door to Aidan’s office closed, turning back and rounding his desk. His eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable, and I step closer, needing him to know what his words mean to me.
“Thank you,” I whisper breathlessly. “No one has ever stood up for me like that before. Especially not to my father.”
Aidan stares at me hard for a long moment, his brow low. He might have just defended me against Dad, but he looks as though he’s about to explode.
I can’t blame him. I’ve only made his life harder since I arrived here, messing up his schedule, getting him put on the Bushwick project. He’s had to fetch his own lunch more than a few times. Now he feels the need to shield me from my father. It’s too much for him to take on. I’m too much.
But as he gazes at me, he softens. “You’re welcome,” he says, looking as if he’s about to reach for me, then stopping himself. “He shouldn’t speak to you like that.”
I stare at him in disbelief. He’s not angry about the position I’ve put him in, and it takes me a few moments to process this. I’m too used to everyone being angry with me, irritated by my presence, annoyed that I’ve fucked up, including, until quite recently, Aidan.