Haze

by Deborah Bladon

  Boyfriend.

  The word catches my breath in my throat as a tight knot forms in my gut. Naturally she'd have a boyfriend. Any man with a brain in his head would claim her for his own the first chance he had. It's more than likely some college kid with a perpetual hard-on, who doesn't give a shit about anything other than blowing his own load. Whoever he is, I doubt like hell he is giving her everything she needs or wants. If he was, she wouldn't have offered to come to my office this afternoon.

  Jesus. What am I doing to myself? She works for me. She has a fucking boyfriend.

  "You know that you're entitled to three hundred dollars of free lingerie a month, right?" Isla pushes the slip into Cicely's hands. "You should be wearing the products if you're selling them."

  "We're not allowed to just take merchandise off the shelf." Cicely sighs. "Isla have you been taking things? Are you wearing Liore lingerie now?"

  "I'm wearing a push up bra. It's that one from the Charming collection, in nude lace, and I have on the matching V-string panty."

  I turn in an effort to hide my body's response to that. I feel a rush of heat race through me when my pulse quickens. My cock is aching, literally aching, inside the restraint of my pants.

  I've headed this division for months now. I've seen some of the world's most beautiful women in the lingerie brand that I helped launch and yet, I've never had a reaction like this. It's visceral, intense and wholly unwelcome in this moment.

  "It's in the employee handbook," Isla says quietly. "I asked Wallis when I started at the boutique and she showed me the paperwork that I have to fill out each month."

  It's just another reason why I asked Wallis Clarkson to take the reins at the boutique. I'd brought her up from another division to oversee the opening of the store. She was insistent that Cicely was perfect for the manager position. It's why she stepped in as a consultant temporarily. Cicely's strength is in keeping the store organized, beyond that I'm seriously beginning to doubt how much value she's bringing.

  "She's correct, Cicely," I interrupt, needing this meeting to end soon. In fact, now would not be fast enough. "Part of your benefit package is free merchandise. You should be taking advantage of that."

  Her eyes dash from Isla's face back to mine. "I'll do that, sir. I'll start wearing Liore lingerie every day."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Isla

  At least I converted Cicely into a lingerie wearing, not-so-hot, Liore employee today. If I had the patience, and any interest at all, I'd also suggest that she stop raiding her grandmother's closet when she's getting dressed for work each day.

  Who am I to judge? She's obviously going to walk out of here with a job and I'm going to be headed straight for…well, to my apartment most likely. I'm too exhausted to even think about looking for a new job tonight.

  I tried to make a lasting impression with my knowledge of Cicely's underwear. She may believe that I can tell that she wears plain white panties and bras because it's obvious in the way she carries herself.

  Truth be told, I caught a glimpse of her in the staff room after work one day trading out the hideous yellow pants and matching blouse she had on for her work-out clothes. That's when I saw that she wasn't wearing anything sold at the boutique. It's actually an image that will be burned into the farthest back reaches of my mind forever.

  "Isla is right." Mr. Foster rubs his fingers over the lace of one of the garter slips. "This isn't what I expected at all. I didn't approve this."

  Cicely steps into place right next to him, her hands greedily reaching down to scoop up a black slip. "I have to agree. Our customers wouldn't find them acceptable at all."

  For fuck's sake, Cicely. Really? Now, you agree with me?

  "Pack them up and ship them back." He tosses the slip onto the sofa. "I'll make the necessary calls tomorrow and have a new sample sent with the materials I approved."

  "I can bring that to your office as soon as it arrives," Cicely mutters under her breath as she pushes the garter slips back into the bags.

  "No." He leans against the corner of his desk. "That's not necessary. I'll have it delivered here. Your attention should be on the boutique and the staff."

  "Of course," she says while she nods her head. "I'm in charge there, after all."

  I roll my eyes not caring if Gabriel Foster catches the movement or not. I doubt like hell that I've saved my job. I don't take an ounce of comfort in the fact that he hasn't brought up what happened in the store earlier.

  He's been bombarded with dealing with Cicely and her impromptu meeting since we arrived. I expect to be next on his agenda which means I'll not only have to face his wrath but I'll have to do that with Cicely as a witness. If that's not karma, I'm not sure what is.

  "Is there anything else that you need?" He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Cicely fumble with the bags. "I assume that we've covered everything you came here to address."

  "Yes, thank you, but if I think of anything else I'll call you." She pushes two of the bags towards me with her foot. "Isla and I will go back to the store and pack these up. She can drop them at the courier's office on her way home."

  I turn to look at her, realizing that if I do indeed walk out of here with a job, I'm going to have to do everything she says since she is technically in control of my every movement at Liore.

  "Isla won't be accompanying you back to the boutique." He takes a measured step towards us. "I need to have a word with her."

  Cicely's brow furrows as she studies my face. "I'm her manager. Is it something I need to know about?"

  "This doesn't concern you." His eyes are trained solely on my face. I know he's waiting for me to react but I won't. I'm not about to break in front of my manager. I don't want to give her a glimpse into that part of me. To her, I'm just another in a string of women, who will work at Liore for a short time before they mess up.

  I've heard her sharing stories with Wallis while they've stocked shelves. I won't be the first, or the last, woman to be fired from the boutique by Mr. Foster. I just don't want to be the only who was fired by him in front of Cicely.

  "Should I wait in the reception area?" She struggles to pick up all four of the shopping bags. "I can wait there until Isla is done."

  "There's work for you to do at the boutique." He scoops the handle of two of the bags into his fists. "I'll have Sophia call a car for you. The driver will help with the bags."

  She only nods faintly in response as he leads her towards the doors of his office and out of my view. As he closes the doors behind both of them, I slide back into the chair I was sitting in earlier to await my fate.

  ***

  "If you're going to fire me, can you do that now?" I tap the toe of one of my nude heels against the polished marble floor. I haven't moved at all since he came back into the office and sat behind his desk. He'd been gone for close to twenty minutes, which felt longer than an eternity to me. "I don't like playing games."

  My admission pulls a faint smile over his full lips. "You don't like playing games? Do I strike you as the type of man who engages in games, Isla?"

  It's a loaded question. Judging by the fact that the building we're sitting in has his surname blazoned across the front of it, I'd guess that Gabriel Foster has played more than his fair share of corporate games to gain the upper hand in the cutthroat world of fashion. His company's designs are featured on the world's most prominent runways.

  The Arilia line for women and the Berdine line for men set the tone for the company's success. The designs are classic and sophisticated.

  I glanced at the price tag of two of the dresses from the spring collection when I tried them on a few weeks ago in a boutique in SoHo. I'd snapped selfies in the mirror before I slid them off my body and handed them back to the woman waiting outside the dressing room door. She'd sighed under her breath. It was a faint sound that carried the judgement of someone who thought I couldn’t afford the expensive fabric that bore the Arilia brand.

  I'd left the s
tore and boarded a bus to take me to Liore for my shift. The Liore lingerie offering is new for the Foster brand but it's already selling well and for the time being, I'd like to keep myself attached to that in the form of a steady stream of commissions. That means I need to do damage control to convince Gabriel Foster that I don't normally plan secret, after work, meetings in the offices of the men who visit the store. I may have gained a few points when Cicely was in the room, but now it's just me fighting for my job.

  "I don't think you play games," I try to sound genuine. "I didn't say that."

  He leans forward, his dark eyes boring into me. "You offered me a private show in the comfort of my office. I'd like to understand exactly what that entails."

  I nervously skim my hands over the thin fabric of the skirt of my dress. I glance down at my lap, the pale nude polish on my fingernails has chipped away leaving a jagged layer of shimmer that catches the light when I glide my hands towards my bare knees.

  "Isla? Do you have an explanation for me?" he asks, his voice startling me.

  I look up and across the desk to where he's sitting. It's the perch from where he runs his business and apparently also subtly intimates people. He's doing it to me now. I know he expects me to back down. Men like him always do. They think the fact that they have more life experience or a larger bank account means they can push me into a corner with their words, or in some cases, their bodies.

  "It's not something I've done before," I admit. "I haven't made that offer to any other man who has come into the boutique."

  His left brow arches as the corner of his lip rises. "I was your first?"

  I keep my eyes trained on his face, watching the way his gaze slides over my lips before it falls to my neck. He's enjoying this. He's pulling some perverse pleasure from watching me squirm in this leather office chair.

  He wants me to break and fall to my knees in apology so I can keep my job. I see it in the way his fingers are strumming the edge of his desk. He's relaxed and completely, utterly in control.

  "You were the first." I dart my tongue over my bottom lip, suddenly feeling as though the air in his office is heavy and thick. "I shouldn't have offered to come to your office. I don't know why I did. I guess I wasn't thinking clearly."

  He adjusts one silver cuff link, then the other, before he pushes himself gracefully to his feet. "Stand up, Isla."

  I do it because I have no other choice, even though I'm not sure my knees won't buckle from the combination of stress and desire I'm feeling right now. I know logically that he's called me here to reprimand me for breaking one of the company's mandatory rules, but I can't help but wonder what he's like when he's not wearing the suit, and his focus is entirely on a woman he craves. He's different since he showed Cicely out. The energy he's exuding is rawer, more intense.

  "In a case like this, company policy is clear," he says with no emotion.

  The rasp in his voice resonates, pushing me back a step. I cross my arms over my chest. It's a restless gesture meant to help me gain my composure. My job is on the line here and even though I know I can score another retail gig tomorrow, I'll have to work twice as hard to make the money I'm pulling in at Liore. I just need this to tide me over until my birthday next month.

  "I'm the best you'll ever have," I blurt out.

  "You're the best I'll ever have?" His voice lowers as he steps towards me. "You'll need to explain that to me."

  I sigh realizing how arrogant my words sound. "My sales are more than all the other girls combined. I work hard. I move merchandise. I'm an asset to Liore."

  "I reviewed the numbers for last month this morning when I received them from accounting." He tips his chin towards his desk. "Your sales are impressive. I'm not going to argue that point."

  I rub my fingertips over my forehead before I look up and into his face. "I made a stupid mistake earlier today, Mr. Foster. I guarantee that it will never happen again."

  He glances down at the silver watch on his wrist. "This company is an extension of my family, Isla. I expect each and every employee of Foster Enterprises to follow the code of conduct that is outlined in the employee manual."

  Yes, I know, and I broke it when I essentially offered to come to his office and give him a private lingerie show. "I don't have an excuse for my behavior, sir. I want this job. I like working at Liore. All I'm asking for is a second chance."

  He tilts his head back just a touch as his eyes study mine. "You're still within the probationary period. One incident like this warrants termination."

  My heart sinks at the words. It's not as though I'm planning a life of selling lingerie. I don't want that. I doubt that I'll willingly be working there three months from now. I need the money that the job affords me right now and the hours allow me to pursue the one thing I'm actually passionate about, my music.

  Liore is in no way my be all and end all. It's a means to an end and for now, I don't want to give that up.

  "Please consider my performance beyond what happened today." I look directly into his brown eyes certain that I feel something pass between us. "If you give me another chance, I promise that you won't regret it."

  "I have no reassurance that this isn't something you do on a regular basis." His voice lowers. "You seemed very comfortable when you propositioned me."

  I was very comfortable because it was exactly what I wanted. The magnetic pull I felt between us in the boutique has only heightened since I walked into his office. Who wouldn't proposition him? He's insanely gorgeous and hot as fuck.

  "I thought you were attractive," I begin before I stop to pull in a deep breath. "You're obviously very attractive, sir. I just wanted to have some fun. I don't normally do things like that. I'm not like that."

  "What are you like?" he asks, startling me with the question.

  "What am I like?" I parrot back. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

  A small smile touches his lips. "From what I've witnessed today you're a very ambitious, hard-working woman who isn't afraid to go after what she wants. Beyond that my knowledge of you is limited to how astute you are regarding our products and the fact that you have a boyfriend."

  "No." I exhale in a rush. "I don't have a boyfriend but you're right, I work very hard. I believe I work harder than anyone else in the store."

  His brows lift. "No boyfriend? You mentioned him when you were speaking to Cicely about the garter slips."

  Embarrassed, I shift on my feet, wishing he hadn't demanded that I stand. I feel off balance. "I was referring to my last boyfriend. We dated in Chicago before I moved here. He liked pretty lingerie."

  "I see," he murmurs under his breath. "I misunderstood that. I didn't misunderstand the proposition though. It's difficult to overlook that."

  "I realize that," I say, my voice sounding pitchy and breathy. "If I could take it back, I would. It was a mistake, sir. We all make them sometimes."

  He turns his head slightly to break my gaze before he takes a step back. "I have to be somewhere this evening. If it wasn't for that, we'd continue this conversation but I need to end it here."

  I feel a sense of panic welling up within me. It makes no sense. I should take my bruised pride and leave, never to look back, but I can't. I don't even want to think about going through another series of interviews, in an effort to try and impress a stranger just to get another dead end job. I just want to keep going to Liore and selling lingerie until I get my life sorted. "Mr. Foster, I won't let you down. I'll prove to you that I'm an asset. I won't do what I did today again. You have my word."

  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 a
nother line."

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

  CHAPTER SIX

  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.