Chapter 27 Aidan
AIDAN
Jada answers the buzzer when I ring, smiling. She motions to the pizza boxes stacked in my arms. “You know we’ll still let you in if you show up without food, right?”
I chuckle, leaning in to brush a kiss to her cheek. “Noted. But you know I like to provide.”
“I do.” Her eyes sparkle as they move between mine. “Shame you don’t have a woman of your own to spoil.”
I lower my gaze, not wanting her to see my smile. “Soph home?”
“She’s at yoga class.”
“Shit, I should have called. Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly.” Jada waves a hand. “Come in. She’ll be home soon enough, and actually, this is good. I want to talk to you about her.”
I frown, concern tugging at me as I follow Jada inside. “Everything okay?”
She leads me into the kitchen, pulling a couple plates from the cupboard. I set the pizza boxes down, and she grabs a slice of vegetarian.
“Not exactly. Soph’s been a little off ever since that gallery turned her down.”
I reach for a slice of pepperoni. “Off, how?”
“You know how she gets. Spends all day on the sofa, unable to do anything other than binge Netflix.”
I nod. I do know how Soph gets. Occasionally, the world can be too much, and she feels the need to hide away, usually after a setback like this.
My mind flashes briefly on Iris, the way she ran away from the office the day after John lashed out at her, like she too felt the need to hide from the world. I shake the thought away.
“But she’s at yoga,” I point out around a bite of pizza. “That’s a good sign, right?”
Jada shakes her head. “She only went because I begged her to go. It’s the first time she’s left the house in two weeks.”
Fuck. How did I not know this? I should have checked in sooner.
“I’ve encouraged her to see someone,” Jada says quietly. “I think it could help.”
I scrub a hand absently across my beard. “See someone?”
She nods. “A psychiatrist. See if there’s something they can do.
Not only with this, but with other stuff, too.
I love her dearly,” Jada says, “but sometimes she’s such a roller coaster.
Excited and optimistic one minute, reeling and hurt the next.
Other times she’s obsessively focused to the point she forgets to eat or sleep, and then, well…
” Jada motions to the sofa, where Soph has camped out for two weeks. “It hurts to see her struggle so much.”
“Yeah,” I say in agreement. I know this about Soph, but I also think about Iris. Drawing similar parallels with what I’ve seen in her, too.
“Anyway.” Jada gives me a tired smile. “The appointment isn’t until the week after next, but I wanted you to know.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
There’s a sound at the door, and my sister’s voice drifts around the corner. “Do I smell pizza?” A moment later, Soph appears in the kitchen, letting her yoga mat drop to the floor. “Hey, Aid.” She glances at Jada with a frown. “Did you call him?”
Jada’s hands fly up. “He just stopped by.”
I rise, pulling my sister into a hug. “I was in the neighborhood,” I say, squeezing her. She feels smaller than I remember. “Wanted to say hi.”
Soph sighs as I release her, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen island. I glance at Jada again, seeing what she means. Soph’s usual chaotic energy is flat, even with the promise of pizza.
“Well, the good news is,” Jada says, sliding her a plate, “you’re just in time to eat.”
I smile gratefully at my sister-in-law. Soph is lucky to have someone who cares so much, but I need to check in more. And as I bite into another slice of pizza, I make a mental note to stop by after her appointment.
The rest of the week passes quickly. I don’t mention anything to Iris about bringing her home again, and she doesn’t ask. I’m trying to slow the pace a little and give her time to catch up with me.
But by the time Friday afternoon rolls around, I’m itching to get her alone.
To touch her. Today, she’s wearing the midnight-blue dress I bought her in Wetherly Cove, and it’s an effort to keep my eyes to myself all day.
I call her into my office before quitting time, wanting to ask if she’s free tonight so I can take her to dinner, when John pops his head in.
“Iris,” he says, brows low. “There you are.”
She smiles tightly at her father. He’s mostly left her alone this week, which was unexpected. Perhaps because she’s worked extra hard, carrying out all her assistant duties on top of working with me on the lighthouse project, so he has little to complain about.
“Where are those plans you promised me?” he asks.
Iris swallows nervously, then straightens her spine. “I’ll have them to you first thing Monday.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s not what we agreed.”
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to step in. Not because I don’t want to defend her, but because she can defend herself. She’s found her voice lately, and I don’t want to stop her from using it.
“I need a little more time to get them right,” Iris hedges.
She’s been working her ass off all week, but between this project and her usual duties, it’s been a lot.
Every time I offer to help with the other tasks—to get lunch or deal with the emails piling up—she refuses.
Determined to prove she can do it on her own.
John stares at his daughter for a beat, then shakes his head. “I need you on something else now. The team-building activity for this year needs to be organized, and Mandy usually does it. That makes it your job.”
Shit, I’d forgotten about that. Every year we do some sort of corporate team-building event to reinvigorate everyone after slogging through winter.
For all of Mandy’s strengths, the team-building exercises of the past were anything but inspired.
From a vision alignment workshop that had most of us dozing off, to an office potluck that led to what HR now refers to as “the salmonella incident,” everyone dreads the team-building event.
I glance at my calendar, realizing we still have plenty of time. “We don’t usually do it until late March.”
John levels me with a look. One that suggests he doesn’t like being challenged. “We’re doing it early this year.”
I furrow my brow, anger simmering in my veins.
There’s absolutely zero reason for us to have the event early, other than John wanting to push Iris off the lighthouse project.
Wanting to punish her for stepping outside his boundaries.
And that he’s doing so at 5.30 p.m. on a Friday evening is just plain petty.
Iris seems to sense this too, frustration flickering in her eyes. But instead of folding, she lifts her chin. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”
John arches a condescending brow. “Are you sure you can manage it, on top of everything?”
She stiffens almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”
Her father sighs with exaggerated patience. “Look, you’ve had your fun, but maybe it’s time to hand the lighthouse project to someone who knows what they’re doing.” He glances at me with a roll of his eyes, as if to say, Kids, am I right? and my frown deepens.
“She knows what she’s doing,” I say, losing the battle to keep quiet. “Wait until you see what she’s created.”
“I shouldn’t have to wait,” John bites out.
He stares at me, waiting for me to back down, but there’s no fucking way.
How did I never notice before what a bully John is?
How impatient, rude, arrogant? It’s bad enough he’s Iris’s father.
She has no choice. But is this really who I want to work for?
Partner with? My fingers itch as I glance at my laptop, suddenly feeling the urge to update my LinkedIn profile.
John pinches the bridge of his nose. “The team-building event needs to be organized this weekend, Iris. Since you seem to think you can manage it, be my guest.” He turns on his heel and stalks away.
I stare after him in disbelief. “What an asshole,” I mutter, glancing at Iris. “You don’t have to do that, okay? I’ll do it.”
“No.” She breathes out long and slow, as if to center herself. “I can manage it.”
I close my office door, turning back to her. “You shouldn’t have to. He’s being completely unreasonable.”
She snorts. “He’s always unreasonable.”
Fuck. “Iris.” I hesitate, then reach out to stroke her cheek. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, sweetheart.”
Her eyes go soft as she gazes up at me, hand landing on my chest. Her touch burns through my shirt, and I slide my hand into her hair, tilting her head so I can slant my mouth over hers.
All week I’ve fought not to touch her, save for the occasional brush of hands when no one’s looking, but there’s no way I can stop myself from kissing her now.
I sweep my tongue into her mouth, desperate to show her how much I care.
How I don’t want to let him hurt her anymore.
When we part, her eyes are dark and hungry, her hands inching down my abdomen. “Every time you stand up for me,” she says breathlessly, “I want to get on my knees for you.”
I swallow, cock jumping in my slacks. “That sounds fucking amazing, baby, but not here.” I turn and force myself back to my desk chair, willing my dick to get the message. I have a few more things to do, then I want to take her to dinner.
But Iris doesn’t want to play ball.
“No?” she asks innocently, perching on the edge of my desk.
I lean back in my chair, letting my gaze trail across her, from the silver cupcake necklace she’s worn every day since I gave it to her, to the dress that makes her somehow look both professional and sexy.
The skirt rides up her thighs as she spreads them temptingly for me.
But I won’t touch her. We’ve fooled around in here before, but this feels different. The stakes are higher now. Not with my job, but with her. With us.
“No,” I say thickly, turning back to my laptop. “Be a good girl, and go back to your desk.”