Gabriel
"I apologize for the delay," I say as I close my office doors behind me. "A matter came up that couldn't be ignored."
Cicely, the boutique manager, nods vigorously in understanding even though it's now near five o'clock. After my mother left, I'd retreated to one of the empty boardrooms to make the inevitable call changing the course of Dante Castro's career. I half-expected more push on his end but he'd taken the news with calm resignation.
I anticipated at least a question or two about why the offer was being pulled but there was none of that. His voice had lowered as he told me he understood and with that the call ended.
I'd spent the next thirty minutes connecting with the magazine contacts to correct what I called, 'a simple oversight on the part of one of our internal managers.'
I see no need to embarrass my mother. If I can't find a workaround to save her from humiliation, I'll craft one. It's all part of helming both the business, and my family. It certainly helped when I offered each contact backstage access to our showing during fashion week here in New York.
"Should I begin now?" Cicely springs from her chair. "I arranged the garter slips on the sofa by color."
I look toward the large black sofa that I sat on not more than an hour ago with my mother. Draped over the back cushions and armrests are pieces of lingerie.
"I prepared a presentation." Cicely glances down at her smartphone. "I have my notes open. I'm ready whenever you are, sir."
Unlike Cicely, Isla is sitting quietly, her legs crossed at the knee as her right foot bobs up and down. Her hands are resting in her lap, discreetly holding the front of the skirt of her pink dress in place.
When I'd entered the room, Cicely's head was the only one that turned. Isla's shoulders had tensed briefly before they relaxed once her manager spoke.
I made no mention of Cicely coming to my office when I was at the boutique earlier. I'm not sure what Isla did to convince her boss to tag along but it's impressive. I admire creativity and tenacity. It changes absolutely nothing though.
Isla's proposition was all I needed to extend the invitation. Regardless of who is doing the offering, sexual favors for customers is grounds for dismissal. She may be a new hire but there's no room for excuse. Any employee who doesn't follow company guidelines is expendable; even if that person has a face that can stop traffic and a body that can bring a man to his knees.
She caught me off guard when I walked into the boutique earlier today. I'd noticed her well before I approached her. I'd stood just inside the door watching her move as she rearranged a display. My intention to speak with Cicely had disappeared the moment I saw Isla.
She'd readjusted each piece of lingerie, her hands delicate as they took care to line the panties on the table symmetrically. Every few seconds, she'd raise her head to scan the area near where she stood. I recognized that as a natural desire to find her next customer. She was primed to hunt. Even though she appeared busy with her task at hand, her goal wasn't to present our product in the best light she could, it was to make another sale.
My body reacted when she'd turned to the side and I caught my first glimpse of her profile. The generous curves of her body beneath the dress were inviting. She's breathtaking, petite, and, I imagine, incredible to fuck. She's also at least a decade younger than me.
When she looked into my eyes and offered to come to my office, my cock stiffened. I was hard as nails until Cicely touched my shoulder and reminded me where I was.
Business is business and pleasure has no place there. I keep them separated out of need. I've never touched a woman who works for me. It would breed a sort of complication I don't have the time or the inclination to deal with.
"I'm impressed with the samples, Mr. Foster," Cicely begins what I know, from experience, will be a long winded accounting of every aspect of what looks like the lace and mesh garter slips I had her order several weeks ago. The woman is good at her job but she's wound too tight. "I can go over the highlights for you now."
Or you can get the hell out so I can take Isla over my knee.
I shake my head chasing the thought away while I keep my eyes honed in on Cicely. "In your opinion are they on par with the rest of Liore's offerings?"
"Oh, absolutely, sir," she chirps happily. "I think our customers are going to love them."
"I disagree," Isla interjects softly. "I don't like them at all."
I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth but I halt it as I turn to face her. "You disagree?"
A small sigh escapes as her tongue flies over her bottom lip, moistening it. "I wouldn't wear one."
Immediately I'm assaulted with the mental image of her body covered in nothing but a sheer slip. I push it aside knowing that within hours I'll likely be buried so deep within a woman I'll meet at the club tonight, that Isla will never cross my mind again. I can easily chase away the desire I'm feeling. I've done it with others when I've felt a pull I knew I'd have to resist.
"Isla," Cicely's voice breaks into the fray. "You can't say that."
"I'm not going to bullshit him," she spits back. "Those slips don’t deserve space in the boutique. Did you even bother to look at them closely?"
"Mr. Foster, don't mind her. Isla is new." Cicely walks past me towards the sofa. "She's young. She's only twenty. She doesn’t understand the business the way we do."
It's been said that you can't judge a book by its cover. For the most part, I believe the words hold value in many cases, but not all. As Isla rises from the chair, I'm captivated by the subtle sway of her hips as she walks across the room to follow Cicely.