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."