Through Emerald Eyes

Iris’s POV

I glanced at my watch for the third time in five minutes.

9:05.

Joe was late.

That was so unlike him; prompt to a fault, one of the few actual; if minor; faults he had. Working with Joe had always felt like more than a job. He never treated me like “the assistant,” not even in the beginning. He treated me like a partner, like someone whose opinion mattered, whose presence made the day better. And after Mom died… God, I don’t know how I would’ve clawed my way out of that darkness without him and Emily. They held me together; literally sometimes; arms around me while I sobbed, drying my tears, murmuring reassurances until I could breathe again.

I loved them both so deeply it ached.

Because I knew my chance with him had slipped away the moment Emily walked into his life.

I’d felt the shift long ago; the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the way his laugh changed when she was near, and how she melted every time he held her. I knew they were in love from moment one. Probably before either of them even realized it. I’d never admit it out loud, not to them, not to anyone. I’d never want to be the crack that broke something so beautiful. So passionate. Emily had told me plenty of times, how Joe wrecked her in bed, how he left her sore and smiling for days. She’d shown me the pictures once... her skin flush red, his cock thick and standing proud. I’d touched myself most nights, imagining it was me under him, me taking every inch, me covered in him.

The office gossip had always swirled; coworkers whispering that Joe and I had to be fucking behind Emily’s back. They were wrong. But... they weren’t entirely wrong about what I wanted.

Emily was in his office right now, waiting to surprise him with the day ahead: pampering, a concert, a meeting with Sabrina Carpenter.

This wasn’t the usual path clients took to Joe. Their worlds rarely overlapped; both of them guarded their client lists like state secrets. But Sabrina had spotted one of Joe’s sketches of Emily on her office wall during a quick legal consult; of Emily's nude body, shadowed just enough to hide her face and the delicates of her body. It sang erotic, and unmistakably loving.

When Emily told me how excited Sabrina had been; how she’d gone “ballistic” at the revelation that the artist was Joe, and how she always wanted to work with him... I knew Joe wouldn’t say no.

A behind-the-scenes photobook of the final leg of her Short n’ Sweet tour, plus a full documentary? And fully funded? Publishers were already circling; streaming services were throwing blind offers before he’d even touched a camera.

This was the kind of project Joe dreamed about; the kind that could launch him worldwide, give him the leverage to start his own agency someday. He’d rarely said it out loud, never in the office, but Emily and I both knew it was his endgame.

He had no idea what was coming today.

Emily and I would tease that Sabrina was “the client,” but she’d be the one doing the pitching.

The elevator dinged.

I straightened, smoothing my skirt, heart doing that familiar little flip it always did when he appeared.

“You’re late,” I smirked as he stepped out, already reaching for the box in my hands.

“It’s 9:07. The elevator can only go so fast.” He replied, checking his watch. His voice was warm, teasing, the way it always was with me. We walked toward his office together, passing the usual curious glances from coworkers. He asked about the box.

I fibbed smoothly; “Potential client”; but he clocked it instantly. He always knew when I was holding something back.

When he opened his office door and saw Emily, his entire body softened.

He lifted her without hesitation, no shame, her little squeal making my chest ache in the best way. Emily’s eyes found mine over his shoulder; knowing and playful.

I felt my lips part slightly.

“What are you doing here? Irie told me I had a client,” he said, setting her down but keeping her close.

He never called me “Irie” in the office. That was the name we used when we were alone; away from the whispers, the assumptions. Hearing it here, soft and intimate, gave me a quiver I wasn't expecting.

“You two working me over?” he asked after breaking that long, loving kiss with Emily, his voice low and amused.

I smirked, handed the box to her.

“I’m gonna let our Emmy spill the beans on this.”

I turned and walked back to my desk just outside his office. I started gathering my things while Emily told him about Sabrina, the pampering ahead, the concert, the meeting.

It had been a while since Emily and I had had one of our private get-togethers; wine, secrets, girl talk, dressing rooms where I’d catch myself staring at her body, wishing I had her curves, her confidence. She’d always stopped me; told me I shouldn’t change a thing, that I was perfect. My smaller bust, my hourglass waist, the silly little Playboy bunny tattoo on my right hip… she’d made me believe it.

I thought ahead to the mani-pedis, the new clothes, the concert.

And I was excited; truly excited; for Joe to finally get what he deserved. Sabrina had insisted we “enjoy ourselves,” Joe in particular. It was obvious she was wooing him, hoping to lock him in for the project. But it wasn’t necessary.

He’d say yes anyway.

He deserved everything coming his way.

And I was happy; deeply happy; just to be part of it.

Still…

As I watched them through the glass; his hand on the small of her back, her head tilting up to kiss him again; I felt dormant ache bloom low in my belly, my thighs pressing together under the desk.

I wanted to be part of that.

Not just watching.

Not just wishing.

Part of it.

I sighed, the day was just beginning.

And I was already burning.