That’s what he’s doing to Iris, isn’t it? Punishing her. He doesn’t need the money. He’s doing it to show his disapproval ofher not completing her degree. Being punitive. Petty. Anger licks hot through me, thinking of what he’s doing to her after all she’s been through.
It’s a strange thing, realizing your mentor might be a bully. The thought clashes against years of respect, against everything I’ve worked for, because Idorespect him as an architect, a boss, a friend of my late father’s. And I still want that partnership. I’ve earned it.
If anything, it’s easier to be angry with myself. For wanting John’s daughter. Forwantingthe distraction from my work.
“No, Cupcake,” I say, and this time I use her nickname softly, like I did when we met. “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself.”
“Why?”
God, why did I say that? I can’t be honest. Not with everything she’s just told me. She’s vulnerable, and even though that should change what I feel for her, it only deepens it. It was easy to compartmentalize when she showed up in my office behaving like a brat, but now I see that for what it was. Not a woman trying to get her way, but a woman trapped. Afraid. Beaten down by the world, and trying to take back some control.
And now, I can’t unsee it. I can’t compartmentalize anymore. Iris isn’t just a gorgeous temptation, she’s human, and she’s struggling. Seeing her so soft, so exposed, doesn’t make me want her less. It makes me want her differently. Tenderly.
And that’s worse.
“I’m a jerk,” I say at last. “I’m sorry. I’ve been hard on you.”
She looks down, lifting a shoulder. “I’ve been screwing up.”
This time I lose the battle, sliding a finger under her chin to tilt her face up. Her eyes are wide when they come back to mine.
“You’ve been trying your best,” I murmur, knowing it’s the truth.
Something softens in her eyes then, and they move between mine, searching for a long moment. I wonder briefly if she’s going to kiss me, and even though it would be wrong, anticipation zips through me all the same.
“Do you ever think about it?” she whispers.
My heartbeat quickens. I know exactly what she means. Us. That moment we shared at Marco’s. Andfuck, I want to be honest. I want to tell her it’s on my mind every waking second, that I can’t focus at work, that all I want is to pull her close and press my mouth to hers.
That it’s more than simply physical, what I feel for her, and I don’t know what to do with it.
But I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell my boss’s daughter, myassistant, how much I want her. Not if I want to keep my job. It’s about more than what John would do if we acted on this. It’s about knowing that love and work can’t co-exist. I’ve never seen it end well.
And I’m not prepared to lose my career for anything.
I gaze into Iris’s piercing blue eyes, heart hammering against my ribs. Her breathing turns shallow, gaze falling to my mouth, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. It takes all my strength not to lean forward and capture her mouth with mine.
I withdraw my hand, swallowing hard. I shouldn’t be here. I wanted to make sure she was okay after she walked out today, I can admit that much, but that’s no excuse for chatting with her over coffee.Touchingher, for God’s sake.
“I should go,” I mutter, pushing to my feet. I don’t want to be rude, but I need to draw a line in the sand. Knowing what I do about college and her father changes things. I won’t be so hard on her now. She doesn’t need another man telling her what to do. She needs someone who sees her and guides her toward her own power.
And that won’t come through me making a move on her.
She stands too, confusion creasing her brow. I want so badly to reassure her, to stay in this moment with her, but I bite my tongue. It has to be this way.
I cross the room, but when I reach her doorstep, I hesitate. “You’ll be in tomorrow?” I ask, voice rough.
She nods. “Of course.”
“Good.” I gaze at her for a moment longer, so sweet and soft in her sweater and socks, in this tiny apartment that I feel oddly comfortable in, then force my feet out the door, reminding myself there’s a reason I’m pushing her away. Because if I don’t, I’ll pull her close.
And if I do that, I have a feeling there will be more than just my career at stake.
14
IRIS
My smashed model of the studio sits on my desk when I arrive the next day, only someone has glued it back together.
