Sophie wrinkles her nose. “You’re right. I’d hate it.” She swigs from her bottle. “Speaking of, how’s the new assistant?”
The image of Iris standing at my drafting table flashes into my head, and despite myself, I smile. She spent hours working on her design today, lost in the process of creating. I’ve never seen her so focused. She might not be great at scheduling or answering emails, might occasionally say the wrong thing to a client or forget to order lunch, but the sketch she produced was excellent. Detailed, accurate, not to mention a clever use of space. It makes so much sense now that I know she’s had training, even if she didn’t complete it.
I think of her face when I asked how her Revit skills were, and something in me softens. I prefer drafting by hand too, so I get it, but clients want to see things digitally, and that shouldn’t be what keeps her from sharing her ideas. It only took me a couple of hours to mock it up in Revit, anyway. We can go over it together tomorrow before I polish it for David next week.
“She’s good,” I say, opening the drunken noodles.
Sophie eyes me as I shovel a forkful into my mouth. “Not giving you any more trouble?”
I contemplate this as I chew. She’s definitely still giving me trouble, but it was different today. Instead of pushing back as a way to regain power, to defend herself when feeling threatened,she did it to test boundaries. I could tell by the way she looked at me, watching for my reaction. And instead of getting angry, like I would have in the past, I could see it for what it was. Almost like she was trying to play with me, to see if I would play too.
AndGod, I wanted to. The way she called meSirin that breathy voice makes my pants tighten, even now as I remember it. An image appears in my head of me bending her over my desk to remind her who’s in charge, but it’s chased by shame. I’ve never been told I’m too rough in bed, but I’ve seen the way women recoil. I’ve felt the need to keep myself in check.
With Iris… it’s like I channeled my attraction to her into anger. I think of all the times I lashed out at her, all the fantasies I had of spanking her, punishing her, and hang my head. I didn’t understand her, but now I know better.
And I’d never lay a finger on her unless I was certain she wanted it.
“You like her,” Sophie murmurs, and when I glance up, I find her studying me with a curious smile.
I frown, even though it’s true. Idolike Iris, more than I want to. More than I should. After hearing the emotion in her voice last night, after seeing her face light up when I asked her to work on the Bushwick project with me… It’s impossible to deny the urge I feel to care for her. It’s been this way since day one. I might have been able to run from it before, but not anymore.
The thought scares the shit out of me.
“She’s John’s daughter,” I say, as much a reminder to myself as it is to my sister.
Amusement dances in Sophie’s eyes. “How old is she?”
Jesus,don’t ask that.
“Not old enough,” I mutter, poking at the noodles. At Sophie’s concerned look, I add, “Twenty-six.”
“Oh.” Soph breathes a relieved laugh, then tilts her head, contemplating this. “Still young, though. For an old man like you,” she adds, elbowing me with a grin.
I nod in agreement. I’m forty-four, for Christ’s sake. Almost twenty years her senior. Far too old to even belookingat her, let alone touching her.
I get a flashback of her on her knees in that restroom, and guilt echoes inside me. John would fuckingkillme if he knew.
Would he, though?
I take a long pull of my beer as I ponder this. I’d assumed Iris’s wellbeing would be front and center of his mind, like any father, but maybe I’m wrong. After she told me he’s forcing her to be at the firm, I couldn’t help but see things differently today. The way he spoke about her seemed more dismissive, more irritated. Like she was an inconvenience, not his daughter.
But maybe I’m imagining it. It’s difficult to reconcile the man I thought I knew with the man who’s forcing Iris to work for him. The two versions of him won’t line up in my head.
Either way, I knew that telling him Iris is working on the Bushwick project wouldn’t be a good move. This is Iris’s first foray into the professional world of architecture, and after seeing the effect John’s words had on her yesterday, I couldn’t risk that again. Not when she has the chance to succeed at something. It’s a win I know she needs.
“Age isn’t everything,” Sophie says thoughtfully, bringing me back to our conversation. “Jada is five years younger than me.”
“That’snotthe same thing.”
“I don’t know,” Soph murmurs. “Love never quite looks the way you imagine it will.”
“Love?” I echo. When did we start talking about love? This is getting out of hand.
Soph nudges me teasingly. “Yes, Aid, love. Some people think it’s the only thing that makes life worthwhile.”
I snort into my beer. “We grew up in the same house, right? You saw how that ended?”
“I did.” My sister gives me a melancholy smile. “But it’s not the only way things can go. Look at Jada and me.”
