Haze (13 page)

Gabriel

"You know this is complete bullshit, Gabriel," Caleb hisses the words out as he slams both his fists onto my desk. "Why the fuck are you doing this?"

I've asked myself the same question repeatedly since I walked out of the hotel suite and into the elevator, leaving Isla behind. The only difference is that Caleb's focused solely on business right now, and I can't get the image of Isla, freshly woken, out of my mind.

"I'm doing this for your mother," I push the words out with a dart of my index finger towards him. "This is for our mother so she doesn't get her name dragged through the press again. Do you honestly think she can handle that right now, Caleb?"

"It's blackmail." He rakes both of his hands through his dark hair. "He's blackmailing us and you're giving in. What the hell has happened to you?"

I've become our mother's keeper. I've been delegated to cleaning up one mess after another while she wanders through her life causing nothing but havoc. He's right about it being bullshit.

When one of the company's attorney's had called me shortly after six this morning, I'd taken the call instantly. I was sitting on a chair near the bed, still fully clothed from last night, as I watched Isla sleep.

I'd held her in my arms after I'd carried her into the bedroom. I'd spread her legs and tongued her sweet cunt to an intense orgasm. She'd moved beneath me on the bed, her hands clutching the linens, pulling on them as her moans filled the air. It took every ounce of strength I had within me not to lower my head again to take her right back to that place. I could listen to her come over and over again and I'd never get enough.

She'd had enough though. I could feel it in the way her muscles went limp and hear it as her breathing slowed. I wanted her to sleep. I wanted to hold her against me all night but it was too much. It had all been too much and after I pulled a blanket over her nude body, I'd sat in the chair next to the bed and watched her sleep. Minutes passed, and then hours and when my phone rang, I'd taken the call in the other room.

I'd shaved, taken a shower and dressed all before the soft sounds of a symphony filled the room. It was the ringtone on her phone and after it quieted, she'd explained in a voice still sultry from sleep the name of the composer and the subtle nuances found within the music.

I've never known anyone like her. I'd never tasted anything more delectable than her body. She's unlike any woman I've ever taken to the hotel. She doesn't belong there. It's not the place for her.

"Gabriel." Caleb's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You're actually going to cut that little asshole a check to keep his mouth shut."

"Sit," I say hoarsely. "Sit down and shut up, Caleb."

There's no more than a moment of hesitation before he lowers himself into one of the two chairs in front of my desk. His head is shaking from side-to-side as he curses repeatedly under his breath. He's hot-headed. He's always been this way.

"Mother offered Dante Castro a position with the company," I begin before I take a large swallow from the now warm cup of coffee on my desk. "I was under the belief that it was a verbal agreement. I imagined she threw the offer out without any thought but apparently he's more astute than I've given him credit for. He drew up a simple contract on the back of a napkin while they were having lunch and he had it witnessed."

"That means nothing, Gabriel."

"It means he has leverage and this press conference he's arranged this morning to announce the lawsuit he's planning on launching will cast a negative light on us." I look past his head to the reception area where Sophia is finally settling in for the day. It's not uncommon for me to get to the office before her. It is rare for there to be this much activity before nine o'clock.

"So you're just going to give him money?" he spits the question out without looking at me. "You don't believe for a second that contract will hold up in court, do you?"

"Of course not," I pause. "It has no legal merit but that's not what I'm concerned with."

"What the hell are you concerned with then?"

I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs. "If this contract mother signed becomes public knowledge, the Berdine division is going to be upended. The design team there will be pissed that she's trying to replace them and we're going to lose some of the best people we have."

"I'm inclined to push him on it." He mirrors my stance, crossing his own legs as he runs his fingers along the arm of the chair. "I say we let this play out and see where the cards fall."

"That's not happening," I continue, "Berdine is running smoother than it ever has. I see no reason to tempt fate by allowing Dante Castro to take this public. I spoke with his attorney before you got here, Caleb. I'm having the papers drawn up now and I'll sign the check this afternoon. They're cancelling his press conference as we speak."

"What makes you think you can do that?" His right hand fists. It's a faint movement but it's not lost on me. "You make these unilateral decisions for all of us. What gives you that right?"

I sigh as I feel a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I'm the CEO, Caleb. How the hell do you keep forgetting that?"

***

"She's not here, sir." Cicely motions towards the bustling sales floor. "Isla is on her lunch break."

I glance down at my watch. It's near one now. I'd spent my morning dealing not only with the loose ends of the Dante Castro debacle, but with a problem at one of the production facilities overseas. It's been a stressful day so far, and the calm from the storm I'm craving is a few minutes alone with Isla.

I need to explain what happened last night to her. I want her to understand that my body's desire to fuck her was only tamed by my need to do it any place but there. When she was nude in front of me, her slick cunt waiting to be taken, I'd stopped myself because of my own selfish yearning to take her to my bed. I want her in my bed, the bed I've never taken another woman to.

"She asked for an extra fifteen minutes, Mr. Foster." Cicely shifts on her feet. "I think she had a lunch date. A man came in to get her."

My shoulders instantly tighten. "Did she introduce you to him?"

Her gaze narrows as she studies my face. "She didn't but he's been in here before. He came in last week to buy some lingerie. Isla helped him pick it out."

Jealousy hits me full on. It's not an emotion I'm that familiar with. I can't recall the last time I felt this burning pit in my stomach. "It's a customer?"

"I think he's more than that to Isla. He hugged her when he came in the door."

"What did he look like?" I ask before I even realize I've formed the question within my mind. What the fuck does it matter what he looks like? What matters is who the hell he is to Isla.

"He's very attractive." She sighs. "He's tall, dark hair, green eyes. He was wearing a nice suit. It wasn't a suit from Berdine, sir, but you know, it was well fitted."

"Did she say where she was having lunch?" I look across the boutique to where one of the sale associates is helping two women. "What time is she scheduled to come back?"

Her eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall behind us. "She should be walking back through the door any minute now. That is, unless she's late again. If she is, I'll handle it, sir. I can take care of it."

I toss a glance at the bank of windows that look out onto Fifth Avenue. That's when I see her. She's wearing a fitted grey dress and her hair is styled impeccably in a ponytail. As she leans forward to embrace the man she's with, I'm flooded with an instant, and unexpected, sense of relief.

Isla

"You two know each other?" I ask with a measure of surprise in my tone.

"Garrett is a friend," Gabriel pats Mr. Ryan on the shoulder. "He's actually the cousin of my closest friend. We travel in the same circles."
I should have known that. Almost everyone I've met since I moved to Manhattan is connected to everyone else. When I contacted Garrett Ryan to help me sort through some legal issues, I had no idea that he was actually one of the most in demand probate attorneys in all of New York. He's much more competent than the attorney I'd had in Chicago. Mr. Ryan has done more for me in the past two months than any other lawyer I've hired.

"I saw Vanessa last week." Gabriel pushes his hands into the front pockets of his pants. "My mother was admitted to the hospital. Vanessa was on duty that night."

"That's right." Mr. Ryan taps his finger on his chin. "I was glad to hear Gianna was alright."

I may not be following the conversation completely but I definitely know who Vanessa is. She's Mr. Ryan's wife. He came in last week to buy something special for her birthday. She's also a nurse with a very proud husband who loves her completely.

"I should get back to work," I say quietly because I can almost feel Cicely's eyes boring a hole into the middle of my back. "I have a lot to do this afternoon."

"I'll have my assistant prepare those documents we spoke of, Isla." Mr. Ryan's hand brushes against my shoulder. "We can have them ready tomorrow and if it's more convenient, I can stop by here with her to sign them."

"No," I blurt out quickly. "I mean, I have time after work to come to your office. I can be there by four at the latest."

"I'll clear that hour for you." His eyes dart from my face to Gabriel's. "It was good to see you, Gabriel. Call me and we'll meet for a drink soon."

"Next week," Gabriel replies as he holds out his hand. "We'll find time then."

***

"I think I should be included in this meeting." Cicely crosses her arms over her chest as she stands in the doorway of the office at the back of the boutique. "I'm Isla's manager, sir. Rowan told me to take more control over the employees."

I know he's going to send her packing, but I'd rather she stay. My day, so far, has been the shits. I'd ignored his suggestion to call his driver when I was ready to leave the hotel. Instead, I'd taken the elevator down to the entrance we arrived at last night. I'd asked one of the men standing near the door to hail me a taxi. The ride back to my apartment had been bumpy and reckless. I had to hold onto the back of the seat in front of me for dear life.

Once I finally got home, I had all of fifteen minutes to get ready for work all while trying to maneuver around Cassia's questions about where I'd spent the night. I'd pulled on the last clean dress I had in my closet and tightened my hair into a ponytail. With just a bit of make-up on, I hurried back out the door and made it to work with not more than a minute to spare. I know that, for a fact, because Cicely took it upon herself to point out the time to me.

My lunch with Mr. Ryan might have been a bright spot in my day if he hadn't handed me a letter my mother had given to her attorney to pass along to me. Months ago I would have cried while reading it. Today, I just felt empty as my eyes scanned the handwritten words. On the surface, to a stranger, they'd seem heartfelt and touching. I know better though. She's flailing and the only words that I crave from my mother are the ones she'll never say to me.

"This is a private matter," he says as he takes a step towards her. "Close the door on your way out."

"Anything that concerns the boutique should include me." She actually stomps her shoe against the floor. "I'm going to stay."

"You're going to leave now." He waves her away with a brush of his hand in the air. "Close the door. Get back to the front of the store."

An audible sigh escapes her lips as she turns on her heel and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

Cicely has a bitchy attitude. Who knew? Well, actually, I did.

I look at Mr. Foster. His hair is in place. He's more composed than he was last night. He looks almost exactly as he did the first time I saw him. He also looks completely different to me now that I know what it's like to kiss him and come from the sensation of his mouth on my pussy.

"I'd like to discuss what happened last night, Isla."

This day already feels much heavier than I can manage. Possibly if I hadn't read my mother's words wishing me a happy birthday, I'd feel more emotionally equipped to talk to him. The letter was filled with sentiments I wish were true but sadly, each and every one was a thinly veiled attempt to manipulate me into giving her what she wants. That has nothing to do with a relationship with me and everything to do with money.

I cross my arms over my chest. Maybe it's an attempt to shield myself from further damage. Maybe it's nothing more than my need to stay resolute in the decision I made earlier when I left the birthday card and tickets he'd given me back in his hotel room. "There's nothing to discuss, Mr. Foster. It was a mistake. I'm sorry it ever happened and it will never happen again."

Gabriel

This is the point where I typically cut my losses and walk away. I don't have these discussions with women because I've never seen a need to. Whenever I've been with a woman and the connection has charted off the course I've wanted it to stay on, I've ended things.  Investing my time, and energy, into someone I know I won't see beyond a few weeks is wasteful. There is clearly no shortage of women in Manhattan. There is, however, only one Isla Lane.

"That's not true." My jaw tightens. "It was not a mistake, Isla. It was one of the most memorable evenings I've ever had."

She blinks. "You don't have to say that. I'm not going to fall apart because of this."

I don't need to hear those words to understand that.

What she doesn't understand is that I'm already falling apart because of her words.

"I apologize for leaving in a rush this morning." I move closer but she retreats towards the door in an equal step. "I was faced with a time sensitive issue. It had to be handled immediately."

"You're a busy man." She shrugs her shoulders. "I get it. You had to go."

I haven't seen her like this before. She's closed off. She's built a barrier around herself. It's there in her posture and also in the tone of her voice. She's being dismissive, bordering on curt.

"I've upset you," I offer with an outstretched hand. "Tell me what it is, Isla. Give me a chance to fix it."

Her head shakes from side-to-side. "That's not necessary. I'm sorry I came to your hotel room."

The realization hits me immediately. I say the thing I've been thinking since I saw her nude, standing by the window last night. "I'm sorry I took you to that hotel room."

Her bottom lip quivers slightly but she's quick to halt its movement with a slow pull of her top teeth across it. The action shouldn't be as sensual as it is, but how I react to her is overpowering.

"You agree that it was a mistake?" As much as she tries to contain the emotion in her voice, she can't. I hear the tremble in it, the raw reaction.

I step closer still and this time there's no movement at all on her part. "I agree that you don't belong there. I agree that I should have taken you to my penthouse."
Her hand leaps to her chest and the soft flesh that is visible above the neckline of her dress. "It wouldn't have changed anything. Things still would have gone the way they did."

"Things?" I reach forward to brush my hand over her elbow. She stiffens slightly. "What things? I don't understand."

I see the plea in her eyes the second they meet mine. Her lips move faintly as if she's trying to find the right words. I study her face. It's so vulnerable. There's something there in her stunning blue eyes that needs to be said. It's right there, buried beneath a layer of pain.

"I need to understand what I've done." I lick my bottom lip. "I can see that I've upset you. Please, Isla, explain to me what it is."

She swallows so hard that the sound is audible in the stillness of the room. "I'm just…I'm really embarrassed, sir."

"Embarrassed?" I rake my hand through my hair. I knew I'd have to backpedal to make up for leaving in such a hurry but this is something more. I embarrassed her. I made her feel insignificant somehow.

"I asked you for things," she says in a shaky breath as she closes her eyes. "I'm sorry but I wanted those things so I asked for them. You didn't want them. I'm so humiliated."

I grab hold of her biceps and pull her into my chest, cradling her head in my hand. "Christ, Isla. No, don't think that."

She tries to pull back but I hold her tightly. "I just wanted so much."

My chest tightens with the words. She asked me to fuck her. She wanted to blow me. I turned it all down. I'd rejected her. That's the burden she's carrying. It's my rebuff.

"Isla." I wrench her back so I can look down at her face. "Beautiful, beautiful, Isla."

Her expression shifts slightly. "We don't have to talk about this. We can just forget last night. Sometimes things aren't meant to happen."

"We are meant to happen," I say the words without any hesitation. "I didn't handle myself well last night."

"I don't want you to say those things to me." She tugs herself free from my grasp and I let her. "You don't have to be kind to me. I'm not one of those girls who need that. I'm just not."

"Do you enjoy spending time with me?" I ask clearly and succinctly.

"That's not the point, Gabriel."

"It's the only point that matters, Isla. Answer the question. Do you enjoy spending time with me?"

"Yes," she spits back. "You know that I do."

I smile faintly at the concession. "Do you want to spend more time with me?"

Her mouth curves slightly. "That's a stupid question. I mean after the way I acted last night, why are you even asking me that?"

I cock a brow. "You'll learn very quickly, Isla that no question I ask is stupid. I have a reason for everything."

"What's the reason then?" The question is laced with challenge. "Tell me the reason why last night went the way it did."

I'm on her before she has a chance to respond, pushing her back, pinning her to the wall.  Her breath catches as I push my body into hers.

"Look at me, Isla." I nudge her cheek with my jaw. "Look up now."

"Yes, sir." Her voice does nothing to hide her arousal as her eyes lock on mine.

I trace my lips across her cheek before I slide them over her mouth, pulling her into a deep, intense kiss. The low moan that flows from her mouth into mine sends a wave of heat right through me.

"One taste of you unraveled me, Isla," I growl into the soft skin of her neck. "I couldn’t fuck you there. That's not the place you belong."

"Where do I belong?" she asks in barely more than a whisper.

"In my bed. That is the only place you belong."