I think back to the way John spoke to her after our meeting with David—his cutting words about how she’s nothing more than an assistant, how she was going to ruin the firm’s reputation. Why was he so fucking cruel? I understand himbeing hesitant. I was at first, too, but he didn’t even ask to see her designs. Didn’t pause to consider that she may have something to offer. She’s hisdaughter, for fuck’s sake. How could he speak to her like that?
And God, the way she looked on my sofa, curled into a ball, like she wanted to completely disappear. It took everything in me not to pull her into my arms and tell her how wrong her father was.
“Brooks!” John barks, snapping me from my thoughts. I glance up to find his brows stitched together in a deep frown. “What the hell is wrong with you today?”
I clear my throat, doing my best to ignore the irritation rising hot inside me. Has he always been so blunt?
“Sorry,” I mutter, giving him a tight smile. “I’m… not feeling a hundred percent.”
John stares at me hard, and for a brief second I wonder if he knows that only a few minutes ago I pulled his daughter tight against me, her tongue sliding over mine, as I imagined every dirty thing I wanted to do to her.
Shame washes through me at the thought, because she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I should never have let her kiss me. Should never have kissed her back. After the confrontation with John, what she needed was support. Not my mouth on hers.
But much as it makes sense logically, I can’t deny howrightit felt. Like kissing me was exactly what she needed in that moment, and pushing her away would have been wrong.
But that doesn’t mean it can happen again.
John gives a slow shake of his head. “You’re distracted lately, Brooks. If you can’t focus, take a step back. I need you sharp for these meetings.”
I frown, doing my best to shove away thoughts of Iris. This isexactlywhat I didn’t want—a woman interfering with my work.
“I’m fine,” I mutter.
“Then act like it.” John exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go get some air. Come back when you’re ready to work.”
I grind my jaw, wanting to protest again, but knowing there’s no point. It might be embarrassing, but he’s not wrong. I’m distracted, and it’s showing.
“Will do,” I mutter, straightening my tie as I stand. I exit the room stiffly, the muted burn of humiliation in my chest as I take the stairs two at a time back to my office.
John’s right. What the hell is wrong with me? I know better than to take my eye off the ball. This entire situation with Iris has become too messy, and I don’t like it.
My office door is closed, and as I approach, I notice Iris isn’t at her desk. I open the door with a frown, and what I see stops me in my tracks.
Iris is at my desk, her face flushed, and her hand… somewhere I can’t see.
“Shit!” She freezes, pressing her eyes closed, as if that might somehow make me leave.
My mouth opens as I take in the scene before me, slowly processing what’s happening.
She’s… touching herself. In my office. At mydesk.
What the fuck?
I shove the door closed, striding across the room. She’s struggling under her father’s thumb, and I expect her to push the boundaries.
But this? This is something else. This is steamrolling right over them and dragging me with her.
“What are you doing?” I bite out.
She flinches, eyes still closed, like she can’t bring herself to look at me. When she finally does, what I see there hits me like a punch to the gut.
She’s not defiant, not trying to push me. She’smortified.
I swallow, noticing the tremble in her shoulders, the sheen to her eyes. The way she seems to be torn between shame and want.
“Please don’t tell my father,” she whispers.
Tell John? Jesus, that’s the last thing I want to do. Not after the way he spoke to her earlier. Not after the warning he issued me in that meeting.
