Chapter 114

Iris

No matter how many times I do this, I’ll never get used to giving lectures. And without my old ‘Flora’ disguise, I feel like I’ve been stripped of my protective armor, leaving me even more exposed and vulnerable.

My hands shake slightly as I click through the final slides of my presentation. The room is filled with fellow artists, residents, and gallery directors—all watching intently as I discuss the evolution of surrealist portraiture techniques.

“And so,” I conclude, gesturing to the projected image behind me, “we see how contemporary artists have taken the foundational principles established in the 1920s and transformed them through digital mediums, creating entirely new interpretations of the surrealist vision.”

Applause fills the room as I finish. Several heads nod appreciatively, and I catch a few smiles from the Abbott Gallery directors. My residency mentor approaches me afterward, patting my shoulder.

“Excellent work, Iris. That presentation was fantastic.”

Relief floods through me at the praise. After all the chaos of the past few weeks, I was becoming sort of worried that my actual artistic career might suffer. But somehow, I managed to pull it off. Probably partially thanks to Arthur stepping up as a perfect father.

I try not to think about the fact that I still haven’t told him the truth.

Tonight. I’ll tell him tonight. The party is in three days, so I hope this will give us time to navigate the revelation before the date comes. And I hope he won’t hate me too much for hiding this from him for a week now.

As I pack up my laptop and notes, a few other residents from other galleries come forward with questions and compliments. It feels good to be recognized for my work again, to be seen as an artist rather than just the Alpha President’s mate.

That feeling lasts exactly until I step outside.

“Iris! Over here!”

“Iris! What can you tell us about your relationship with the Alpha President?”

“Are wedding plans in the works?”

A wall of journalists practically slams into me, cameras flashing, microphones thrust in my face. My throat tightens. This isn’t what I expected—they’re supposed to be here for the art exhibition, not for gossip. I search for Emi, but she’s cut off by the journalists, and they’re not moving when she tries to force her way through them to my side.

“I—I just gave a presentation on surrealist portraiture,” I stammer, trying to redirect their attention. “The evolution of techniques from the 1920s to—”

“But what about Alpha President Arthur?” someone interrupts. “Sources say you’ve been spending nights at his apartment.”

“Is it true you’re still living on your own despite being in a relationship with him?”

My face burns. I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Despite Caleb’s daily training sessions, I’m not prepared for an ambush like this.

Suddenly, a commanding voice cuts through the chaos.

“That’s enough.”

The journalists part, and to my utter shock, Leonard strides through. Arthur’s father, who just days ago was suggesting that Arthur take Miles away from me, now stands between me and the press like my knight in shining armor. Emi joins me as well and places herself on the other side so the two of them form a protective barrier.

“Sir!” The journalists redirect their attention. “What brings you here?”

“I’m here to support Iris’s artistic endeavors,” Leonard says smoothly, which makes my brow furrow because I have a feeling that couldn’t be further from the truth. To Leonard and Wendy, my artistic career is nothing more than a ‘hobby’. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, she has other commitments.”

Before I can protest, Leonard places a hand on my elbow and guides me away from the crowd. The journalists call after us, but Leonard’s presence is enough to keep them at bay. We don’t stop until we’re around the corner, out of sight. Emi lingers at the edge of the building, holding back any press that’s still trying to chase us.

“Thank you,” I manage, still stunned by his intervention—and perhaps even a little wary.

Leonard nods curtly. “When the press smells blood in the water, they tend to circle like sharks.”

I wince at the metaphor but don’t comment. Instead, I study his face, trying to decipher every line and twitch. Somehow, his expression is neutral, as if he wasn’t just telling Arthur that I’m not fit to be a mother or a wife.

“I received your invitation,” he says after a moment. “To the dinner party.”

“Oh.” My stomach flips. “Yes, I hope you and Wendy can make it.”

“We’ll be there,” he says, and I can tell that the promise pains him slightly. He pauses, then adds, “It was… thoughtful of you to include us.”

The admission seems to cost him something. I seize the opportunity.

“What’s your favorite cocktail?” I ask, offering what I hope looks like a serene smile and not a painful grimace. “I’d like to serve it at the party.”

Leonard’s eyebrows raise slightly. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I insist. “Please.”

He studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Very well. There’s a drink I enjoy. It’s not common—my own creation, actually. Kiwi muddled with mint, gin, lime juice, and a splash of elderflower liqueur.”

I commit the recipe to memory. “That sounds delicious. I’ll make sure to have it ready.”

Something in Leonard’s expression softens, just slightly. It’s so faint I almost miss it, but the fact that it’s even there at all fills me with relief. This feels like a step in the right direction. “Thank you,” he says.

Before either of us can say more, I hear familiar voices approaching.

“Mommy!”

Miles comes running around the corner, Arthur close behind. My son launches himself at me, and I scoop him up, kissing him all over. “Hey there, little wolf. Did you have a fun sleepover with Daddy?”

Miles giggles, trying to push me away as I tickle his neck with my kisses. “Yes! We watched movies, and Daddy even ordered a pizza!”

Arthur’s eyes narrow when he sees his father. “What’s going on here?”

“Your father just helped me with some… overeager journalists,” I explain quickly.

Arthur’s protective stance doesn’t relax. He moves closer to me, placing a hand on my lower back. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Really.” I turn to Leonard. “Thank you again.”

Leonard nods to both of us. “Arthur. Iris.” He glances at Miles. “Grandson.”

With that, he walks away, leaving Arthur staring after him with a confused expression.

“What was that about?” Arthur asks once his father is out of earshot.

“Didn’t you get the invitation?”

“Yes, but—”

“I invited your parents,” I say, shifting Miles to my hip. “Along with Caleb. And you. And Hunter and Alice, of course.” I couldn’t help but invite my friends for support. I wish I could have invited Brian and Liam and the twins, but they’re busy in Bo’Arrocan.

Arthur’s head whips back to me. “You what?”

“A dinner party. This weekend.” I take a deep breath, wanting desperately to tell him everything. But we’re standing on a public street, Miles is right here, and Arthur keeps checking his watch.

“I have to go away for a couple of days for a diplomatic issue,” he says, confirming my suspicions. “But Iris, why would you invite them all together? That’s asking for trouble.”

“Trust me,” I say, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I know what I’m doing.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Arthur,” I say softly, “I need to do this. Please.”

He sighs, but I can see him remembering his promise to respect my decisions. “Alright. If this is what you want.”

I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, and he responds in kind. When I pull back, I whisper, “This is going to be worth it. I promise.”

Arthur stares at me for a moment as if trying to believe me, but finally nods. “Very well.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek before he sighs and pulls away, checking his watch again. “My plane is departing soon, so I have to run. I’ll see you on the day of the party, then.”