I press a shaking hand to my forehead. “If you’re here to also tell me what a terrible job I’m doing, can you please just give me five minutes?”
Aidan crouches in front of me. “I’m not,” he says, his tone so gentle, I glance up. His gray eyes move between mine, ringed with concern. “Actually…” He hesitates, as if debating something, then rises, striding from the room again.
My pulse spikes as I watch him leave. Shit, what’s he doing now? I’m reminded of the day I started, when Aidan marched into Dad’s office to tell him I couldn’t be his assistant, and panic grips me. He wouldn’t do that, would he? I lurch to my feet, trailing behind him to my father’s office.
“John?” Aidan says, hands on his hips as he fills the doorframe. “A word?” I hover behind him, torn between wanting to flee the building and needing to hear what he’s going to say.
“What is it?” Dad asks, voice edged with irritation. I can’t see him from where I’m hiding behind Aidan, but I can tell he’s not pleased.
“You don’t need to tell my assistant what to do,” Aidan says firmly. “I can handle it.”
Oh. Fuck. Dad will not tolerate that.
“She needs to learn how to do her damn job,” he snaps.
“She is,” Aidan says carefully. “Her job is to assist me, however I need it.”
Wait.
He’s… he’sdefendingme? My mouth falls open as he continues.
“I asked for Iris’s help. I saw what she could do and knew it would be of benefit to the client. So, if you have an issue with that, please take it up with me, not her.”
Then he turns so abruptly he nearly crashes into me, and I scramble after him as he stalks back to his office. When I enter the room, Aidan paces behind his desk, hands balled into fists, breathing hard. I waver, wondering if I should leave him alone, but something propels me closer. If nothing else, I need to thank him.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Dani watching from her desk, and my jaw hardens. I shove the door to Aidan’s office closed, turning back and rounding his desk. His eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable, and I step closer, needing him to know what his words mean to me.
“Thank you,” I whisper breathlessly. “No one has ever stood up for me like that before. Especially not to my father.”
Aidan stares at me hard for a long moment, his brow low. He might have just defended me against Dad, but he looks as though he’s about to explode.
I can’t blame him. I’ve only made his life harder since I arrived here, messing up his schedule, getting him put on the Bushwick project. He’s had to fetch his own lunch more than a few times. Now he feels the need to shield me from my father. It’s too much for him to take on.I’mtoo much.
But as he gazes at me, he softens. “You’re welcome,” he says, looking as if he’s about to reach for me, then stopping himself. “He shouldn’t speak to you like that.”
I stare at him in disbelief. He’s not angry about the position I’ve put him in, and it takes me a few moments to process this. I’m too used to everyone being angry with me, irritated by my presence, annoyed that I’ve fucked up, including, until quite recently, Aidan.
When I started here, I thought of him as Work Aidan. He’s changed so much since then. His words from the Uber come back to me—how I wasleaning on Daddy to fix things—and he can obviously see now that’s not the relationship I have with my father at all. Even the name,Daddy, has never fitted my father. I don’t think I called him that as a kid. He’s always been the opposite of everything a daddy should be: warm, nurturing and supportive, firm but kind.
I realize ifanyoneembodies the true meaning of the name Daddy, it’s Aidan. We didn’t get off to the best start, but since he learned the truth about me, he’s a different man. He’s found a way to overlook my mistakes and shortcomings to focus on what I’m good at, encouraging me, offering guidance, and providing a safe space for me when I need it. I’ve never once looked at a man I desired and thought of him in that way, withthatword, but it’s everything Aidan is. For the first time, I can see why a woman might call a man that, outside the parent/child relationship. The thought sends a strange thrill through me—unexpected, a little shameful—but I can’t deny how much I like it.
Aidan’s eyes are gentle as they move over my face, making my heart trip. I drop my gaze, huffing an uncomfortable laugh. It’s either that, or I kiss him.
“I’m used to it,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
But Aidan doesn’t laugh. Instead, he murmurs, “Iris,” in a voice so soft, sotender, that an ache stirs in my chest.
And suddenly, words aren’t enough. Not when he’s made me feel more cared for, moreseen, than any other man I’ve met.
I step forward, closing the distance between us. Hesitation flickers in his eyes as I reach for him, but he doesn’t fight me. He doesn’t stop me from drawing his mouth down to mine, doesn’t push me away when our lips meet.
If anything, he seems relieved. I feel the tension ease from him as my lips touch his, and when his hand brushes my cheek, I smile against his mouth. He feels it, fingers sliding into my hair, his other hand gripping my waist to pull me closer. His warm, spicy cologne floods my senses, that hint of cedarwood and pencil shavings that has me aching for more.
And when he parts his lips to let me in, heat zips down my center. My tongue grazes against his, fireworks dancing along my skin as he responds hungrily. I’d forgotten what a good kisser he is, the way his beard bristles against my chin, the rough sensation sparking heat between my thighs. I whimper, arching into him, and his fingers squeeze my waist.
Then I’m kissing him hard, arms wrapping around his neck as I try to get closer, forgetting why I even started. All I know is he’s air and without him I can’t breathe. He feels it too. I can tell by the way his hand tightens in my hair, by the low rumble in his chest as he tilts my head to give him better access.
The sensation of his mouth devouring mine is too good, too much, and I’m greedy for more. I thread a hand into his hair and press myself into the heat of him, a rod of steel digging into my stomach. The meeting of our bodies draws a rough moan from his throat, and heat pours through me. I’m transported back to that restroom, to the feeling of his hot, pulsing cock in my mouth, the way he tugged on my hair as he spilled down my throat, wanting nothing more than to taste him again.
