Chapter 30 Aidan
AIDAN
“This is freaking awesome,” Tash says, elbowing Iris as we enter a large warehouse in Gowanus on Thursday after work. The word Glowhaus shines above the door in bright pink neon.
“Yeah,” Aidan Boscolo agrees. “Usually, it’s stale donuts and a guest speaker no one cares about.”
Even John looks reluctantly impressed.
But Iris still seems uncertain as she follows our coworkers into the dimly lit arcade.
The walls glow with neon signs and the flicker of vintage screens, air filled with the sound of pinballs clattering and electronic chimes ringing out beneath laughter.
To our right, a bar stretches the length of the room, its mirrored back wall glinting with bottles.
To our left, a pizza counter buzzes under fluorescent light, the scent of dough and melted cheese drifting through the dark.
But the evening’s main attraction is at the back: an indoor blacklight mini golf course, glowing invitingly.
There’s a table reserved with the words Prescott & Associates on a small chalkboard, and as Iris informs everyone that the first two rounds of drinks are on the firm, the team hastens to the bar.
I watch them go, pride blooming in my chest. I’ve never seen everyone so eager on a team-building event before, and it’s all thanks to Iris.
Only she’d be able to come up with something so unique.
I hang back to tell her so, leaning in to whisper, “This is awesome, baby.”
“Really? It’s not too much?” She glances around, brow creasing anxiously. “It looked good on the website, but I didn’t expect it to be so… dark.”
I chuckle, motioning to our coworkers already sipping drinks and laughing as they drift toward the vintage arcade games. “Everyone loves it.” I give her shoulder a subtle nudge. “Take the win.”
She follows my gaze, a grin sliding onto her lips. “Yeah. Okay.”
She’s glowing under the neon lights, blue eyes sparkling as she watches the team enjoying the outing she’s planned, and without thinking I ask, “Can I get you a drink?”
She slides me an amused look. “I don’t think you should, do you?”
I grimace. She’s right. We’re not at the office, but that changes nothing. Surrounded by our coworkers, we’re still simply boss and assistant. We still need to be professional.
A resigned sigh leaves me. “You’re right,” I mumble. “Let’s just go over together.”
We cross to the bar, where Iris orders a gin and tonic, and I grab a beer.
Our eyes meet as the bartender sets our drinks down, a silent moment passing between us.
We’re both thinking of Marco’s, which isn’t helped by her wearing that same indigo dress, those same boots.
That same playful gleam in her eye. For one ludicrous moment, I glance around, searching for the restroom.
Looking for somewhere I can sneak a minute alone with her.
It’s been a busy few days, finishing the lighthouse plans to John’s exacting standards.
Iris sunk hours into constructing a perfect model of the design, working late most nights.
We’ve stolen the occasional kiss behind my office door, but I haven’t been inside her in almost a week.
It’s killing me. Especially after we presented the lighthouse to Thomas Waterman today.
Quietly thrilled with Iris’s ideas, he’s convinced the residents of Wetherly Cove will approve, and Iris couldn’t stop smiling.
I couldn’t stop looking at her. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off her at work, and I ache to pull her close, to kiss her and tell her how proud I am of what she’s pulled off.
Not only with the lighthouse. With tonight.
With the way she hasn’t let her father’s negativity hold her back.
With all the ways she’s grown lately.
Iris’s eyes dance with amusement. “Looking for the restroom?” she teases, and I have to glance down to hide my smile. She knows me well.
“Come on.” I push away from the bar, heading for the arcade games. “Let’s play.” My gaze snags on Frogger, and nostalgia sweeps through me as I toggle the joystick. I spent hours playing this as a kid.
Iris appears at my side, eying the machine with interest. “I’ve never played this,” she murmurs, and I glance at her in surprise.
“What?”
“I mean, I’ve heard of it, but…”
“Seriously? Wow.” I drag a hand down my face, suddenly feeling ancient. It’s been easy to let myself forget lately how much younger she is. I’ve stopped seeing her as the boss’s daughter, my assistant. She’s just Iris. My Iris. Our ages haven’t mattered so much.
But this is a startling reminder.
Her lips quirk with mirth, lights from a nearby machine flickering across her face as she watches me. “You okay?”
“Just remembering how much older I am than you,” I mutter.
A playful giggle escapes her. “You are.” She glances around, making sure no one’s nearby, then leans in to whisper, “And I love it.”
Heat swirls through me as I gaze at her.
She bites into her plump bottom lip, and it’s an effort not to lean down and capture her mouth with mine.
Not to hike that dress up her thighs and sink inside her.
She reads it on my face, her pupils dilating as she sucks down her drink, eyes burning into mine.
Shit, we’re not doing a very good job of acting professional.
I wrench my gaze away, checking for the others. John sits at the bar nursing a martini, as if refusing to let himself have any fun. Dani and Tash are playing Skee-Ball, and Aidan, Akira, and a few others have drifted off to the mini golf. No one is remotely interested in us.
I release a relieved exhale and turn back to the machine, looking for the coin slot, but Iris holds up a plastic swipe card. I frown as she swipes to activate the game.
“Takes a little of the magic out of it,” I mutter.
The card reader blinks green, and the game begins.
I’m self-conscious with Iris at my side, waiting for her to laugh about how basic the game is, but she watches quietly.
She’s close enough that I feel the heat of her, and at just the wrong moment I glance at her, walking the frog straight into traffic. Shit.
She laughs, leaning closer than she should. “Show me how to play.”
“Yeah?” I ask, and she nods, grinning. Warmth spreads through my chest at her words, that she’s not rolling her eyes at how old the game is. How old I am.
I explain the basics of it: get the frog across the lanes without getting hit, warning her to watch out for the trucks, which come out of nowhere.
Then I step aside, watching as she confidently takes the joystick.
She fumbles a few times, but it doesn’t take her long to get it, and as she moves the frog easily across the street, laughing, her face lit by the neon glow of the screen, a strange sensation moves through me. Hot and urgent, emotional and intense.
The kind that tells me I need to get her alone, now.
I look around, realizing the restroom is far too obvious and probably gross. Then my gaze lands on the mini golf course, dark and glowing, and I lower my mouth beside Iris’s ear.
“Let’s play a round,” I say, my voice a gritty rumble.
She looks up at me, and the frog gets swiped by a truck.
I drain my beer and tilt my head toward the mini golf.
I don’t know if it’s the look on my face or the roughness in my voice, but she reads between the lines.
She swallows, nodding wordlessly, and follows me across the arcade to grab golf clubs and balls.
It’s darker on the course than the arcade, without the flashing lights of the video screens, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. At last, a tropical rain forest comes into focus, artificial Monstera fronds clinging to the walls, the ground a combination of lush AstroTurf and smooth stones, with wooden boardwalks bridging the holes.
A waterfall cascades down the far wall between large boulders and palm fronds, the sound of rushing water muted beneath the dance music spilling from the speakers.
It’s kitschy but weirdly atmospheric, like we’ve stepped into a hallucinogenic dream.
I feel Iris at my side, her hand brushing mine in the darkness, and it sends a bolt of awareness through me. She shouldn’t touch me, even if it’s dark and we’re alone at this end of the course, but there’s no denying the thrill I get.
I line up my club to take the first shot, cursing under my breath. Not even close. It takes five attempts to get it in, not because I’m bad at this, but because I’m captivated by her mischievous grin, bright white in the glow from the blacklight.
She laughs teasingly as I finally pull my ball out of the hole, and I shoot her a look.
“You think you can do better?”
“I know I can,” she taunts. My pants tighten at the glint in her eye. My beautiful little brat, just begging me to put her in her place.
I lean close and growl, “Go on then, Cupcake.” Then I watch in disbelief as she comes in two under par, smirking at me. I’ve never seen her so cocky, and I fucking love it. There’s no way I can keep my hands to myself.
I flick a quick glance over my shoulder, scanning the room. Most of the team is on the other side of the course, laughing and having fun, loose from alcohol and being out of the office. Even if they looked our way, it’s impossible to see much in the shadows.
Iris bends to grab her ball from the hole, and my hand skates the curve of her ass, tapping it in the tiniest spank. She gives me an adorably stern look when she straightens. Even in the darkness, I can see the flush on her cheeks.
“Mr. Brooks,” she admonishes, “I hardly think that’s appropriate.”
God, I love her like this. So playful and sexy.
My hand finds her wrist, thumb pressing to her hammering pulse as I bring my mouth to her ear. “That’s Daddy to you, sweetheart.”
Fuck. What’s come over me?
It’s her. Everything about her. Her creativity, her smile, the way she makes my heart beat like it’s brand new. Like I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.