"It's a wonderful place to work," I try to sound as sincere as I can. "Do you like working here?"
There's a slight pause as her eyes flit across the room towards the closed doors. I see the hesitation in her expression before I hear it in her words. "I'm very lucky that I have this position."
I should push and ask for more but the details of why there's a hint of disgruntled dissatisfaction in her tone doesn't matter to me. I'll likely be off the Foster Enterprises payroll within the hour and I'll never set eyes on her again.
I clear my throat with the intention of saying something trivial about the weather and the cool breeze that took over the city this afternoon but I'm stalled when the doors to Mr. Foster's office burst open.
Cicely and I turn in unison to see a beautiful woman dressed in dark pants and a white blouse walk through the double doors towards us. As she turns back briefly, her rich brown hair brushes her shoulders.
From where I'm sitting, I can't see the person she reaches for but I know it has to be him. It takes just a few seconds for her to confirm that in a hushed tone. "You've always been my favorite, Gabriel. You will always be my favorite."
A deep chuckle fills the room as he steps forward, into view, to scoop her hand into his. As he raises it to his lips, he looks down into her face. "Asher is your favorite, Mother. We all know that he is."
She shakes her head briefly before she reaches up to touch her lips to his cheek.
"Mr. Foster." Cicely ignores any sense of decency and interrupts the tender moment by jumping to her feet. Her hands run over the skirt of the simple brown dress she's wearing. "We were here early, sir. You said we should be here at four o'clock. We were here by three fifty. I just want you to know that."
With her words, his eyes leave his mom's face and dart to Cicely and then settle on me, lingering there until his mom taps his chest. "Do I want to know what this is about? What are these two doing with all those Liore shopping bags? Is this some kind of clothing drive? Do they work at a shelter?"
I push back the urge to laugh at the suggestion that we're collecting expensive lingerie to clothe the city's least fortunate. As much as the comment amuses me, it maddens Cicely. "I'm the manager of the Liore boutique, Ma'am. You're Gianna Foster, aren't you?"
The hand that Cicely extends hangs in the air for several seconds before Gianna tentatively grabs hold of it with her own. "I'm Gianna Foster. What are you doing here? If you manage the store, you should be there, no?"
Yes, Mrs. Foster, she should. Instead, she's on a crusade to defend ugly ass garter slips and I'm along for the ride.
"I come bearing samples of one of our new items." She swings both her arms so wildly in the air that she stumbles backwards, her heel tapping the edge of one of the bags causing it to fall over spilling most of its contents on the polished floor.
Gianna grimaces as she drops Cicely's hand to point towards the garter slips that are now in full view. "Look what you've done."
Before Cicely has a chance to turn to pick up the slips, I'm on my knees, pushing them back into the bag. I would have been happy to stay where I was but if I'm going to hold onto this job, I need to make at least one good impression on Gabriel Foster. This may be my only chance.
The room falls silent except for the sound of shoes against the marble floor. I catch a glimpse of a black wingtip oxford just as it comes into view. There's little time for me to react before I sense him crouching next to me. I suck in a deep breath hoping that he won't fire me in front of all these women while I'm on all fours with a handful of lingerie.
"Allow me to help." His breath races across my cheek as he leans in to scoop up the lingering pieces.
I only nod softly in agreement as my breath catches when his hand brushes against mine. The touch, matched with the scent of his exquisite cologne, and the sound of his voice, makes me feel momentarily light-headed. I close my eyes hoping to ward off the sensation and the temptation to lean against him.
"You have your hands full, son." Gianna's voice pulls Gabriel back to his feet. "I'm leaving. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he repeats. "I'll take care of that issue we discussed before the end of the day."
Just as I stand I catch Gianna, with her coat and purse in hand, rounding the corner towards the elevator.
"Mr. Foster." Cicely stands in front of Gabriel. "I'm prepared to go over the samples with you."
"Samples?" His hands jump to the silver necktie he's wearing. He straightens it, keeping his eyes trained on my face. "These are the samples that were delivered last week?"
"These are the ones." She scoops two of the bags into her hands as she brushes past him on her way into his office.
I follow her lead because right now, Cicely owns this meeting with her misplaced sense of why we are even in the Foster Enterprises building. Mr. Foster doesn't seem fazed that we arrived together with this much of his product in hand. Maybe I did misjudge what happened back at the boutique.
I pick up the remaining two bags and take a step towards his office. Any relief I may have felt is wiped away in a single second as I feel his hand catch hold of my elbow. His breath races over my cheek when he leans down and close, his voice low enough that only I can make out the words. "I wanted you here alone, Isla. I thought I made that clear."
Fuck. Just, fuck.
I don't turn to look at him when I feel his hand drop away. I pull in a deep breath, walk into his office and wait for his next move.
CHAPTER FOUR