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.
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.