Before I can stop it, my gaze strays to the hard line of his jaw, shadowed by his beard. To the slight wave in his hair, the suit jacket straining over his broad shoulders, the chest that felt so warm and solid under my hands.
God, he’s handsome.
“Um,” I say softly, forgetting why I’m even here.
My father chooses that moment to pop his head in. “Oh, look. Brooks has deigned to grace us with his presence.”
Aidan tears his eyes from mine, pink creeping under his beard. His hand balls into a fist at his side, and I wait for him to tell Dad about the calendar. For some reason, he doesn’t.
“Since you skipped out on our meeting this morning,” Dad continues, “you’ll now be heading up the Bushwick studios.”
Aidan’s jaw turns to granite, and he directs a glower at me. I shrink, glancing at Dad with trepidation. I told him it was my fault Aidan’s late. Any second now he’s going to launch into a tirade about my poor time management, about how I need to try harder.
But it doesn’t come. The relief that washes through me is overwhelming.
Dad turns on his heel, and Aidan huffs in disbelief. I wince, turning back to him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I tried to tell him…” The words stick in my throat, and I hold out the coffee, as if that might somehow make up for it. “I, uh, got you this…”
But Aidan doesn’t take it. Instead, he tugs off his jacket with stiff, jerky movements, throwing it over the back of his chair. “Do you know what you’ve cost me, Cupcake?” His voice is low with barely restrained fury. “The Whitmore Museum expansion wasmine. And now…”
I should probably apologize again, but something else rears up inside me. Something angry. One minute he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me, the next he’s fuming.
But that’s not the worst part. I spent all morning trying to do things right, waking before dawn, rushing here from Queens, going back and forth to Joe’s. Trying so fucking hard, and for what?
And when Aidan waves his hand, indicating he doesn’t even want the coffee I’ve so painstakingly acquired for him—not once, buttwice—defiance streaks through me.
“Fine,” I snap. Then I dump the coffee into his wastepaper bin with an indignant huff and stalk from his office.
But my righteous anger doesn’t last long. I slump at my desk, massaging my temples as Aidan’s words from yesterday ring through my head.
I’m not sure she’s up to the job.
All I’ve done is prove him right, haven’t I?
I glance up to find Dani watching me with a smirk. “Everything okay?” she asks, in a voice that suggests she’s not in the least concerned.
Hot tears press at my eyes, and I push away from my desk, needing a moment. The last thing I want is for anyone to see me cry.
In the privacy of the bathroom, I splash water on my face, exhaling slowly. I’m so annoyed with myself. Not only for messing up this morning’s meeting, but for caring. I don’t evenwantthis job—I’m here against my will. And Aidan has been such a jerk, which is shitty enough on its own, but combined with the moment we shared in Marco’s, it’s both upsettingandconfusing.
And yet… Idocare. Maybe not about what he thinks so much, but about doing this right. About doingsomethingright in my life.
For once.
I dry my face, not wanting Aidan to know I’ve been crying. Or worse, Dani. As I gaze at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, I get a flashback to high school, to those nasty girls who made every day hell, how I’d hide in the bathroom sometimes to avoid them. I never let them see me cry, never let them see howthey hurt me. On days when it got really bad, I faked a migraine and stayed home.
But I can’t do that now.
Squaring my shoulders, I pin on a smile and stride from the bathroom. Aidan might be pissed about this new project, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Once my father makes up his mind about something, there’s no changing it. I’ll apologize to Aidan again, and if he refuses to forgive me, then so be it.
But he’s not going to stop me from trying.
9
AIDAN
It’s her fault. It’s all her damn fault.
