Haze (4 page)

He turns, his hands jumping to fasten the top button on his tailored suit jacket. "Very well, Isla. We'll revisit this in a few days. I don't have time right now. You'll see yourself out."

"I can go back to work tomorrow?" My voice betrays me as I sound much more excited than I actually am.

"You'll remain an employee," he begins before he stops himself, his eyes riveted to my lips. "You are an employee, for now. That changes instantly if you cross another line."

I don't say a word. I give him a quick nod, pick up my purse and head straight for the doors.

Gabriel

"I missed you last night, Gabriel." Her voice is expectant and impatient. "I waited for you until well past midnight."

They're the words of a woman I'll never sleep with again.

I made that mistake, more than three years ago when we met at a club on the Lower East Side. I was alone, nursing a glass of scotch, when she sat next to me.

I was seeking solace there after arriving on the heels of a business deal gone south. I was angry, wanting and when her hand brushed against my thigh, I'd grabbed hold of it and pulled her into me. What began as a kiss between strangers ended with her in a broken heap on my office floor two months later.

I'd taken her to a room at an hourly rate hotel minutes after we met. It was small, disgusting, and afforded me everything I needed to drag her into the pit of desperation I was in at the time. I'd fucked her roughly, used her, and when it was done, she'd begged for it again.

I'd given in the next night and for countless nights after that, not because my body couldn't resist her. It was the escape that I craved.

Each night was a repeat of the one before with less emotion. Until finally one night with each drive of my cock down her throat I felt the emptiness grow. When I looked down at her face covered in a mixture of sweat, her lipstick, and my release, I saw my own regret.

I'd ended it then; told her that it wasn't her but as the days wore on and her persistence grew, my patience waned. She called, sent hundreds of emails, and text messages and then the day she arrived at my office in nothing but a trench coat, I'd been as brutal as I'd ever been.

I was cold and callous as I told her that she was nothing to me. I'd ordered her out of my office, my life, and the city, if I recall. I wanted her gone and as I grabbed her hand to yank her towards the door, she'd collapsed. She'd fallen onto the floor, weeping and whispering words about love and connection.

I stood there, above her, resolute and unyielding as I pulled her back to her feet, closed the coat around her nude body and had security escort her to the street.

I avoided the club for more than two years after that. I chased my need to satisfy my desires when I traveled. I'd meet women in Rome or London and when the night was done, they were forgotten as easily as the movie I'd watch on the flight there.

Months ago, when I finally ventured back into that same club she sat next to me again when I ordered my drink. I flinched when she touched my leg. I pushed her hand back into her own lap and then I looked at her face and when I did I saw something much different.

She'd been married, divorced, and engaged again during the years we didn’t speak. She was there with her fiancé, a high profile banker from Wall Street who she met at a concert. I shook his hand, excused myself and realized that her desperate behavior years before had nothing to do with me after all. It was the drive within her to find someone to cherish her and she had.

"How's Clinton?" I ask only because if her fiancé is no longer in the picture, she has no place near me. "When's the wedding?"

"Your invitation is in the mail." She doesn't hesitate as she takes a seat next to me at the table. "Will you bring a plus one?"

If the intention of the question is anything more than the obvious, I'm not aware. We've come a long way and although I'd never include her in my circle of friends, she's no longer my enemy. There are parts of me that she's seen that I need to protect and the best way for me to do that now, is to be cordial. "Unfortunately, my schedule is full, Sage, but I'll send a gift. Where are you registered?"

She ignores the question in favor of ordering a drink when the waiter approaches. "Why weren't you at the club? I assumed you'd be there."

I push my lunch aside, my appetite suddenly vanishing. "Did my assistant tell you I'd be here?"

Her green eyes scan the posh interior of Axel NY before they settle back on me. "I dropped by your office to catch up. She told me you were doing some business over lunch but, alas, here you are alone."

I make a mental note to instruct Sophia on the finer points of dealing with Sage Butler which include never telling her where I am. "What do you want?"

Her gaze falls on the server who is now approaching with her lemon drop martini. "I need a sip before we talk."

I need an entire bottle of scotch before I can carry on a full blown conversation with Sage but I have three meetings that need my attention this afternoon. The glass I've half consumed is my limit for the day. I'll have to rely on that to get me through the remainder of my now ruined lunch.

She sips the drink carefully, rolling the liquid around on her tongue before she swallows it. She tilts her head back slightly. A man sitting at the table next to us watches her movements, his eyes focused on her short black hair. It's styled wildly which only further reflects the woman she can be. The rest of her is flawless, right down to her expensive heels and the impressive diamond ring adorning her left hand.

"What is it, Sage? You've got five minutes before I need to leave."

My words are met with a frown and yet another sip of the martini. "Why weren't you at the club? I wanted to talk to you. I met someone there I think you'll like."

I rub the back of my neck as I watch a server speaking to a couple standing near the entrance. Her hair is blonde and straight, skimming just below her jawline. She's rail thin, clumsy and from what I've seen, not good at her job.

I noticed her the moment I was seated. Her hair color caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. It's the same shade as Isla's but that's where the similarities end. The brief reminder of the woman who convinced me to give her a second chance has been my companion throughout my lunch.

Hell, she's been on my mind since she walked out of my office last night, leaving a trail of her fragrance in her wake. It was a simple combination of jasmine and her skin. It was light, airy and intoxicating.

I had essentially driven her out of the door to halt the temptation I felt to push her on what she was going to do when she invited herself to my office. I wanted to hear the words. I wanted her to tell me step-by-step what would have happened if I wasn't Gabriel Foster, the man who owns Liore, and then I wanted her to show me.

I'd poured myself a drink and sat in my chair after Sophia took her leave. I stared at the lights of lower Manhattan while visions consumed me of things that I'll never have.

Isla spread nude on the sofa in my office with my face buried between her thighs.

Isla in my bed, her perfectly round ass in the air as her greedy whimpers fill the still space.

I take what I want from the women I desire. Once I've had them it's easy to push them aside in favor of who is waiting around the corner. That works well for most women.

I know myself well enough to know when one taste won't be enough. It would be that way with Isla. I felt that the moment she turned to me at the boutique and looked up into my eyes. She has the power to wreck a man, to drive him to his knees in pathetic desperation.

I doubt she even realizes it yet. She's blissfully unaware of the impact she had on me.

It was after one in the morning when I finally called for my driver and left the office, heading home to the spacious, barren penthouse that I've worked so hard for. I'd taken a shower, not cold, but tepid. It did nothing to quell my desire. I knew I could stroke my cock until I came but that would only relieve the physical pressure. Nothing will quiet the suffocating need or want.

I don't know her.

I can't have her.

I need to forget her.

"Gabriel, you're not listening to me, are you?"

I rake my hand through my hair. "I'm not interested, Sage."

"I haven't even told you about her." She finishes her drink in one swift swallow, her tongue lashing out to scoop up any stray liquid off her lips. "She's perfect for you. I know what you like. It wouldn't hurt to meet her."

I chuckle as I open my wallet to retrieve a few bills. I toss them on the table as I stand, reaching down to bring the glass of scotch to my mouth. I drink it all. The liquid burns a hot path across my tongue and down my throat. "It wouldn’t hurt me but we both know it would hurt her."

Isla

"You didn't leave a note, Isla." His voice startles me as I walk over the threshold and into my apartment. "I woke up and you were gone."

I stop in my tracks and stare at him. He's dressed in grey sweatpants and absolutely nothing else. His firm chest is on full display even though he knows he's not supposed to wander around half-clothed. She's nagged him for that time and time again. She may be my very best friend, but apparently she has little trust that I won't throw myself at her boyfriend full force.

"Nigel," I say his name quietly, hoping that I'll be able to find at least a t-shirt he can throw on before Cassia wakes up and discovers he's not in bed with her. "Put on some clothes."

"You said we'd talk about things this morning." He walks towards the sofa, taking long strides. I feel an immediate sense of relief when he tugs a blue sweater over his head. "I got up early so we could do that."

I scrub my hand over my face, pushing a few wayward strands of my hair back in place. "I went for a run. I needed to burn off some energy."

His eyes scan the hallway, stopping to focus on Cassia's bedroom door. "She's fast asleep. She worked late again last night."

I can't say I'm surprised. Cassia Moncton is the essence of focus and drive. We went to high school together in Chicago and as soon as we graduated, her life propelled itself into a completely different direction than mine.

She moved to Manhattan to attend Columbia on a full scholarship. She landed a spot as an intern at Hughes Enterprises in their software development division. Her life is on a track she's planned since before we even met.

The only thing missing is the husband she always talked about when we were younger. Nigel seems to think he can fit the bill but I know better. Cassia's not shy when it comes to confiding in me and to her, Nigel, is a pleasant, temporary, distraction.

She's almost a full year younger than me, and at twenty, the last thing on her mind is a wedding. Unfortunately, it's the only thing on Nigel's mind which is why he's scheduled this discussion which I tried in vain to avoid by going for a run at the break of dawn.

"I couldn't sleep," he confesses as he takes a seat on the white sofa. "I've been too nervous."

I walk into the open kitchen. "I'm going to get a bottle of water. Do you want something?"

"I want you to go with me to pick out an engagement ring."

My hand stops in mid-air as I reach into the refrigerator. I suck a deep breath into my lungs. I don't want to be in the middle of this. I'd done that too many times in high school when Cassia couldn’t find the nerve to break up with the guys she was seeing. She'd call me crying, begging me to be the one to call her boyfriends to dump them.

I'd always refused, and each time instead of doing the decent thing, she'd fade slowly into the distance, ending things by ignoring the boys she once claimed to love.

A wedge was driven between us when I exploded one day, screaming at her for being heartless. We stopped talking for months after that, but then early one Tuesday morning when my life changed forever, she came over to my house and held me. She's still holding me in her own way and I'm still trying to guide her to consider the hearts of the men who fall in love with her too easily.

"You don’t want to buy a ring right now," I finally say as I twist open the lid of the water bottle. "Why not wait until her birthday?"

"That's months from now," he points out. "I can't wait that long."

I take a large gulp of the water, holding it in my mouth before I swallow, hopeful that the silence in the room will be enough to send him back into the comfort of Cassia's bed. It doesn't work.

"I need you to help me with this, Isla." He cradles his forehead in his palms. "If I don't ask her and things change, I'll regret it forever."

There it is. Doubt. He senses it.

It's not surprising given the fact that Cassia hasn't been spending nearly the same amount of time with him now as she was six months ago, when they first started dating. Back then, she couldn't shut up about how perfect Nigel was. Now, most of the time, his name is only mentioned when she tells me she's unsure of what she really wants.

One day he's in the way. The next, when she doesn't hear from him for hours, she's texting him non-stop and I'm avoiding coming home for fear of hearing the two of them having sex in her room. She doesn’t want him half of the time and she's all over him the other half. All I can do is keep enough distance from them both so I'm not dragged into the middle. I'm trying to do that now, but Nigel isn't making it easy.

"Will you go with me to look at rings? I've got time tomorrow."

"I'm busy tomorrow," I blurt back without considering my schedule. "Cassia's not big on surprises. Think about that before you do anything."

"Sure," he says sullenly. "I'll think about it."

I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I watch him stand up, walk down the hallway and disappear into the darkness of Cassia's room.

***

"What did you and Mr. Foster talk about after I left his office? It was about me, wasn't it?"

Yes, Cicely, of course it was. What else could the hottest man I've ever seen want to talk about other than you and your wardrobe which seems to take on a more unsightly tone by the day?

"The weather," I shoot back as I give her a once over. I had hoped that my eyes were playing sleepy tricks on me when I walked into the boutique twenty minutes ago but that is indeed a multicolored pantsuit paired with green ankle boots. She looks like a rainbow hit a tree full force.

I opted for a short, floral print dress and teal heels. I'm going to have to up my game if I want a customer's attention today. The three that have entered the boutique since I started my shift have all stopped to actually stare at Cicely.

"The weather?" she parrots back as she cocks both brows. "Mr. Foster doesn't strike me as the kind of man who talks about trivial things. Besides, why would I have to leave if you two were talking about that? I know it was about me."

Her ego train has obviously left the station and is barreling down the track at breakneck speed. I'm guessing the fuel behind that is the fact that Mr. Foster called ten minutes ago to tell her about a new promotion he wants to launch next month.

I'd overheard the conversation, or at least Cicely's side of it. Her voice had taken on a higher lilt. She'd listened intently and then had asked a series of short questions before thanking him for the call. The smile that lit up her face when she turned back towards me irked me in a way it shouldn't have.

Cicely is a Liore lifer. It's obvious that she plans on building her career here so I shouldn't fault her for doing her job well. I need to check my attitude if I'm going to chart a new course. I want this job for the foreseeable future so I need to do what's necessary and that includes obeying her rules. She is, after all, my boss.

"What are you doing the last Wednesday of the month?" Her words halt me just as I'm about to round the counter to walk towards a customer who is giving a display of silk panties a second glance.

"What? You mean on the 30
th
?" I turn back so I'm facing her.

She nods softly. "You're only scheduled until three that afternoon. I'm supposed to work until store closing but I need to switch."

I study her face, wondering if she's testing me. It doesn't matter if she is or not, I'm busy that night. "I'm sorry, Cicely. I can't. I have plans. "

I see something flash across her expression. I can't place it since it disappears too quickly. "I have plans too. Mine are with Mr. Foster."

If she's expecting any reaction out of me, I'm not going to give it to her. I stand stoic even though my mind is racing. Gabriel Foster is into Cicely? If I'd bet money on that, I would have lost. She doesn't strike me as his type, but what do I know?

"I'll ask someone else." She looks over my shoulder. "I don't want to disappoint Mr. Foster. He's looking forward to it."

I'm sure he is. I have no idea why he'd be looking forward to it, but to each his own, as they say.

"You should get out on the floor, Isla." Her fingers wave past my head. "There are customers waiting."

I glance in the direction of her hand towards a middle-aged man holding a bra at arm's length, his Rolex peeking out from under the arm of his suit jacket. I smile as I walk straight towards him knowing that by the time he leaves the store, I'll have made half my month's rent.