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Trystan’s face went frigid.
“Who? I’ll fuck him up.”
The elevator dinged to a stop and Iris cupped his jaw and went onto her toes to kiss his scar.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s not worth a second more of our time, not when we have more important things to think about and talk about.”
Chance silently led them toward the front door of Trystan’s apartment but remained outside.
Iris stopped in confusion and stared at him.
“Chance? Aren’t you coming in?”
“The penthouse is secure. I can stand guard out here. Just don’t try to kill my principal, Iris, or I’ll have to intervene.”
Trystan impatiently took hold of her hand again to tug her inside before shutting the door with a definitive thud.
“Iris, we?—”
“Oh my God, Luna, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much,” Iris’s squeal interrupted him as the big dog came lumbering over with more pep in her step than Iris had ever seen from her before, the entirety of her hindquarters vibrating with the force of her tail wagging. She rubbed her big head against Iris’s body, clearly demanding scratches and pets, and Iris was only too happy to comply.
She bent slightly and wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck, giving her a hug.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she said into the dog’s bristly fur and Luna snorted into her ear, presumably returning the sentiment. When she surfaced from the hug, it was to find Trystan leaning against the marble countertop of a huge open-plan kitchen, watching them with a soft, almost adoring, smile on his face. Luna shook herself and ambled back to her basket, clearly content now that her people were in the same room again.
“Sorry,” Iris muttered, wiping at her damp eyes self-consciously. “I just—” her voice hitched unexpectedly and she shook her head, fighting for control before speaking again. “I never expected to see her again.”
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his voice fraught with regret and sorrow. She offered him a wobbly smile of reassurance, but—when he opened his arms to her—she stepped into them gratefully and accepted his hug.
After a long moment, he dropped his arms, and stepped back toward the marble- topped island, allowing her some breathing room. She appreciated the space, giving herself a moment to get her emotions under control by casting her eyes around the luxurious penthouse apartment curiously. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling self-conscious beneath his smoldering perusal.
“How do you feel?” he asked. Iris—who hadn’t really been taking in anything of what she was looking at—latched onto the abrupt question gratefully.
“About?”
“What just happened.”
“That hug?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“With the paparazzi,” he clarified. “Downstairs.”
“Oh. That.” She considered the question, examining it and her reaction to the situation in the moment from all angles. “It was better with you and Chance there. I didn’t feel threatened, or afraid, or alone. I felt… protected. Safe. Like you promised I’d be.”
She moved closer to him, trailing her finger over the expanse of the cool granite countertop as she walked toward him. She traced that same finger over the back of the hand he had resting on the counter, up over his shirt sleeve, then over one twitching pec, before flattening her palm in the center of his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding too hard and too fast against his ribcage.
“It felt like—together—we can overcome anything. If we just trust each other.”
His jaw twitched and his lower lip quivered before he brought himself under stern control.
“Quinny and I… we’ve been talking a lot. About my career, about the future projects I want to take on. I was reading scripts, comedies—not straight-up slapstick stuff—that’s not for me. But dramadies, y’know? There are a few I’m really excited about. I can’t remember the last time I felt eager and enthusiastic about my work. There are other quirkier dark comedies that I love. There’s also this science-fiction script that landed on my desk. It has a small role in it that I’m dying to play but I’m mostly keen on producing and directing it. Quinny and Bee—my PR manager—have been supportive of the direction I want to take with my career, and are moving mountains to facilitate the shift.”
“You don’t want to give it up?” Iris said quietly, and his brow furrowed above those tormented eyes. As if he wasn’t sure what the right answer was.
“I would, Iris, in a heartbeat, if it meant being with you.”
“I would absolutely love to see what you could do in those roles, Trystan. I’m excited to see how far you can stretch yourself and how high you can fly. I don’t want you to give that up for me. I would hate it.”
He pressed his hand over hers where it still rested on his chest.
