My pulse hammers. I can still hear his reprimand,I need you sharp, Brooks. Can still feel the heat of humiliation crawling up my neck. John’s already furious at me—first for defending Iris, then for being so vacant in that meeting—and now this? Iris, breathless and undone, in my office. The daughter of the man who just sent me away for being distracted.
Every instinct I have battles inside me: to comfort her, to protect her, to get her the hell out of here before I do something irreversible.
So, I go for the one thing guaranteed to kill the moment.
“What, you think Daddy wouldn’t approve?”
The words are out before I can stop them. Petty. Cruel. And instantly, I hate myself for saying them.
But instead of growing defiant like she has in the past, Iris scrunches her nose.
“Please don’t call him Daddy.”
I falter.That’sthe part she has a problem with?
“Why?”
“Because…” She chews her lip, studying the woodgrain in my desk. When she finally brings her gaze to mine, it’s burning. “When you say that word, he’s not the one I think of.”
I stare at her, heart jumping.
She can’t mean… Surely…
Heat streaks through me, my cock growing heavy in my slacks. I swallow, knowing I should leave. That I shouldn’t ask.
But I can’t stop myself.
“Who do you think of?” I say, voice a low scrape in my throat.
She gives me a long look, not saying anything, but it’s enough for me to know.
And… holy shit.
Me. I’m the one she thinks of asDaddy.
Fuck. Me.
My pulse thunders as I gaze at her, sitting behind my desk, hand still in her skirt, chin lifted in that stubborn way of hers. I could put her in her place right now—tell her how fucking inappropriate that is, that I’m herboss.
But just knowing that’s how she sees me… Something in my chest unlocks, releases, replaced with a sensation that’s unfamiliar. Warmth, and something else. Something I’m not sure I want to acknowledge. Despite every rational instinct screaming at me towalk away, I can’t. Won’t. If I turn my back on her in this moment, all I’m doing is confirming what she fears. That she ruins things, that she’s wrong, too much. It’s exactly what her father does to her, and I refuse to do the same.
I refuse to shame her like he does.
Releasing a long breath, I make a decision. I won’t touch her, even if I desperately want to. I can’t lay another finger on her with John breathing down my neck, and besides, that’s not what she needs. She just needs me to see her, as she is, without pulling away.
She drops her gaze, misreading my silence as disapproval. My chest tightens as I watch her shrink, removing her hand from her skirt, and I shake my head.
“Don’t move.”
She stills, brow creasing in confusion, gaze downcast.
“Look at me, Iris.”
Swallowing, she lifts her gaze, eyes moving uncertainly between mine.
“Were you thinking of me?” I ask thickly. This question isn’t for her. It’s for me, so that when I get home tonight and jerk off, I can know. I can know it’s okay to picture her, too.
“Yes,” she breathes, and my cock stiffens in response. “I’malwaysthinking about you.”
