Chapter 9 Chapter 9
As the conversation continued around him, Tony found himself thinking of Iris working her shift at the café, making lattes and saving every dollar toward her dream. There was an authenticity to her ambition that was entirely absent from this table of calculated connections and strategic alliances.
"Tony?" Eleanor's voice cut through his thoughts. "Mother asked if you'd be attending the winter charity ball next month."
"Of course he will," Helga Kennedy answered before Tony could speak. "We've already reserved a table. Perhaps you two could coordinate your schedules to arrive together."
Tony met Eleanor's eyes across the table, seeing the same resigned acceptance he felt. They were pieces being moved across a chessboard, neither particularly invested in the game but bound by the rules nonetheless.
"That would be lovely," Eleanor said with practised grace, though the slight tightening around her eyes suggested otherwise.
Later that night, as Tony loosened his tie in the elevator up to his apartment, he made a decision. He couldn't continue investigating Iris's past, not with his father's security team watching—but he could get to know her in the present. If there were any connection to the Lawsons, it would eventually reveal itself. For now, he would focus on the dinner she'd tentatively agreed to after the competition results.
Across town, Iris was finishing her shift at Café Meridian, wiping down counters with methodical precision as her manager counted the register. The evening rush had been particularly demanding to the point that she had been given quite a few tips. His mind began to drift to Tony, and he shook her head. He was from a well-off family, and well, they usually marry within their own circle.
A decent haul, she thought, counting nearly fifty dollars in tips as she tucked them into her wallet. The extra money would help with art supplies for her Lawson competition pieces. Every dollar mattered in her carefully planned budget.
As she hung up her apron, her manager approached. "Iris, you've been picking up a lot of extra shifts lately. Don't burn yourself out, okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied automatically, the response so familiar it required no thought. "I need the hours."
Her manager studied her with concern. "There's such a thing as working too hard, you know. Even machines need maintenance."
Iris forced a smile. "I'll take a break after the Lawson competition. Promise."
They both recognised it was a lie, but her manager merely nodded and returned to closing duties. Iris had made similar promises before, always finding another goal, another competition, another reason to keep pushing herself beyond reasonable limits.
Outside the café, the night air was crisp with early winter, the campus paths illuminated by evenly spaced lampposts. Iris pulled her coat tighter around herself, mentally reviewing her to-do list for the evening. She needed to email the Metropolitan Design Challenge about their interview request, finish a colour theory assignment, and work on mock-ups for her online store website.
Across the city, Tony was finally escaping the suffocating dinner with the Prestons. His mother's perfectly manicured hand gripped his arm as they walked toward the waiting town car.
"Eleanor looked lovely tonight," Helga Kennedy remarked, her voice carefully modulated to sound casual, though Tony knew better. "Her father mentioned she's just finished her MBA. Top of her class at Wharton."
"How nice for her," Tony replied noncommittally, watching his breath form small clouds in the cold night air.
His mother's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on his arm. "The Prestons would be valuable allies, Antony. More than allies, potentially."
Tony resisted the urge to pull away. "I'm aware of what you want, Mother. I'm just not sure it's what I want."
"Want?" Helga's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. "When I was your age, 'want' wasn't part of the equation. Marriage is a strategic alliance, not some romantic fantasy."
Julius Kennedy approached, having finished his private conversation with James Preston. "The car is waiting. This was a productive evening." He gave Tony a pointed look. "I trust you'll follow up appropriately with Eleanor."
Tony nodded, the expected response coming automatically, though rebellion simmered beneath. As they slid into the back of the luxury sedan, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He discreetly checked the screen, surprised to see a message from Iris.
Iris_M: The Metropolitan Design people want to interview me for their publication. Any advice?
The unexpected contact sent a small thrill through him. He glanced at his parents, both absorbed in their own phones, before replying. However, something seemed to have shifted his mother’s expression. Eleanor was a lesbian that Tony knew growing up, and there wasn’t anything between them, but maybe his mother had just found out via some web post.
Antony_K: Be authentic and confident. They chose you for a reason. Talk about your process and inspirations, but don't feel pressured to share personal details if you're not comfortable.
Iris read his message, surprised by how closely it aligned with what she'd been thinking. Most people would have told her to network aggressively or use the opportunity to name-drop. Tony's advice acknowledged her boundaries while encouraging her strengths.
Iris_M: Thanks. That helps. How was your night?
She sent the message before she could overthink it, then immediately regretted the casual inquiry. They weren't friends, not really. Just classmates who'd had one business meeting.
Across the city, Tony stared at her follow-up message, a small smile forming despite his parents' presence. It was such a simple question, yet it felt significant. Iris rarely initiated conversation unless it served a practical purpose.
Antony_K: Formal dinner with my parents and family friends. The kind where you use three different forks and everyone talks about the stock market.
"Who are you texting at this hour?" Helga's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp with suspicion.
Tony locked his screen instinctively. "Just a classmate. About a project."
Julius Kennedy's eyes narrowed slightly, but he returned his attention to his own device without comment. Helga, however, wasn't so easily deterred.
"The same classmate you were researching?" she asked, her tone deceptively light. "This Iris Maxwell?"