“Did you leave the light on in the supply closet again? What did I tell you about wasting electricity?” The knob jangles, and Iris’s eyes widen as she looks at me.
“Tell me you locked—”
Iris’s hands sink into my hair as she shoves my head to the side. Her lips press against my neck, setting the blood in my veins on fire. She locks her legs around my waist and pulls me closer. Blood rushes from my head to my dick as Iris leaves a trail of kisses down my neck.
Keys rattle against one another as the doorknob twists. Light pours into the room as a couple of servers stare at us with open mouths.
One of them steps up. “I’m sorry—”
“Leave,” I lash out.
Iris chuckles against my skin, and I feel the sound straight to my cock. Her laugh is a powerful aphrodisiac I don’t have any business relishing in.
The door slams. Iris shoves me away before slipping off the washer. “Well, wasn’t that fun?”
My slacks seem to tighten as I consider just how much fun that was.
A deep brown hand lands on my arm. I look over to find Iris’s mom holding onto me with a shy smile.
“Hi.”
“Are you looking for Iris?” I scan the room for her.
“I actually came to talk to you.”
Do I have the option to politely decline?
Her smile falters. “I won’t take up more than a few minutes of your time. I know you’re a busy man and everything.”
I see my reputation precedes me.
“Let’s go outside.” I motion toward the empty balcony and let her lead the way.
I take a deep breath as the doors shut behind us and silence settles in.
“Iris told me you hate these kinds of things.” She wrings her hands in front of her.
“Loathe is more like it.”
She laughs, and it reminds me of Iris’s wheezy one. Like oxygen can’t make it to her lungs fast enough.
“How are you holding up with all this?”
“As to be expected for an introvert who hates social gatherings, small talk, and people in general.”
“Then why do it in the first place?”
“Because it’s expected.”
Her braids shift as she tilts her head. “It must be exhausting putting on an image for the public.”
“You have no idea.”
“I might not know what it is like to grow up in the public eye like you, but I understand having to put on a face for everyone around you.”
“You do?” I find that hard to believe.
Her eyes dart toward the city skyline. “I’m sure Iris told you about my ex-husband and his very particular expectations.”
I open my mouth but think better of it. In reality, I don’t know much about Iris’s father besides the fact that he is a deadbeat.
She continues, saving me from having to come up with something to say. “When she told me she was getting married to you, I was excited that she finally met someone who could treat her right. Someone who could prove that love can heal the soul as much as it can destroy it. I’ve heard the way she talks about you.”
Now I’m very curious about this conversation.
“How so?”
She laughs. “It’s obvious she admires you, and not just in a romantic way. Your work ethic. The love you have for your brothers. The way you gave her a chance to show her worth. For the last one, I can’t thank you enough. Truly.”
I’m speechless as I stare at her with my lips parted. I don’t even know how to process her final comment, seeing as most people are horrified by the way my assistant works more hours than half the executives.
“But of course, like any mother, I worry about her and what the future holds for her. I don’t want her to go through the kind of pain I experienced. I want a better life for her. One that I think you can provide, so long as you promise to always honor her and the vows you make this weekend.”
“I can assure you that I will always have Iris’s best interests at heart.” Even if they jeopardize mine.
1 Noun, Danish: A cozy quality that makes a person feel content and comfortable.
11
IRIS
“You look beautiful.” My mom tries to blink away the tears brimming at the corners of her dark eyes. She adjusts my veil with a shaky hand, being mindful of my perfectly curled hair. With my vintage-inspired lace gown worth more than a year’s rent and shoes that glitter like the diamond on my finger, I feel like a true Dreamland princess.
The bouquet of colorful flowers shakes against my chest.
This is it.
If I had my way, I would have eloped somewhere with only my closest family and friends by my side. But this wedding isn’t about me. Hell, it isn’t about Declan either, given his preference for a simple ceremony too. Granting my mother’s wish for a religious ceremony was the best choice for multiple reasons, but mainly because we need to show the hundreds of guests, including Brady Kane’s lawyer, that we’re a united front. That we’re in love.
It takes all the power in me not to scrunch my nose at that idea.
Mom sniffles. “I can’t believe my baby is getting married.”
“Please don’t cry.” I couldn’t bear it if she did. I’m pretty sure I would crack under the pressure and confess this whole plan if she sheds a single tear.
“It’s hard not to. I always dreamed of you finding someone who made you happy.”
Something in my chest twinges. “You have?”
She nods. “I was worried I made a bad impression on you when you were a child. That I let my bitterness toward your father get in the way of showing you how to move on despite the hurt.”
“Mom—” I want to tell her no, but I can’t find it in me to tell any more lies. The truth is, my mother’s experience with my father weighed heavily on me while growing up. It changed something in me, and a fake marriage isn’t going to fix that. If anything, it only proves what I already know. Love is something that only exists in fairy tales and Dreamland movies. The reality is much bleaker.
As if she reads my thoughts, my mom continues, “Not all men are like your father. It took me a long time to realize that, but I’m glad you learned far quicker than me.”
“Right.” My voice cracks. I’m about two seconds from falling apart.
She cups my cheek with her hand. “I’m proud of you for finally opening up to someone. For risking your heart knowing all the possibilities—good and bad. You’ve come so far.”
My throat tightens uncomfortably, and I look away to avoid her gaze, afraid she can read the truth in my eyes. There’s no way in hell I would ever open myself up to loving Declan. While I consider him a friend, he wants nothing to do with me in that way.
Nana steps out of the bathroom. “Are we done with all the sad stuff now? This is a wedding, not a funeral.”
Mom and I burst into laughter, and the moment is gone like it never happened in the first place. But the tight feeling in my chest still lingers long after the topic changes. Conversations about my father always stir up old demons, but today’s festivities might as well be a welcoming party for them.