Arthur & Iris
Arthur
I watch Iris storm out of the office, her yellow cardigan fluttering behind her like a shaft of sunlight. In a flash, she’s gone, leaving behind nothing but a single chestnut hair and a trace of the scent of oil paints. The frosted glass door slams shut behind her.
For several long moments, all I can do is stand there, staring at the spot where she just stood. Then, my eyes flick down to the hand-shaped smudges she left on my desk.
My wolf whines with yearning just at the sight of those small hands, those slender fingers.
I sigh and sink down into my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose wearily. What the hell is wrong with her? She’s seriously turning down five hundred thousand dollars a year for the foreseeable future? Has she gone mad?
When I me
