Haze(24)

"Davis is gay," I shoot back. "We met when I lived in Chicago. We've been friends since."

A small grin flows over his lips. "I was mistaken."

"Apparently." I half-shrug. "How's Cicely?"

"Cicely? Your manager?"

I don't need him to remind me that I answer to her. Tonight is an escape from the boutique. It's a chance for me to be who I really am. I don't want to think about tomorrow when I have to go back to work and face Cicely again.

"Your date," I counter.

He cocks his left brow. "The misunderstandings are mutual, Ms. Lane. I'm here alone."

"Cicely said she had plans with you, I just assumed…" I begin before I catch sight of her approaching from the right. "I assumed you two came together."

He turns his head towards her. "I'm not here with her, or anyone, for that matter. She's one of a group of employees we invited."

I shouldn't care that she's not dating him. It shouldn't matter to me that he's here, in this room, staring at me, but it does.

"I want to apologize for what happened at the boutique." He reaches forward as if he's going to touch my hand, but then he pulls his back. "I didn't have all the facts when Cicely called me. If I had, I never would have questioned you."

"I gave you my word that I wouldn't break the rules. I don't break my word, Mr. Foster."

"Isla, there you are." I feel a hand on my shoulder just as I hear Davis say my name. "It's time. We need to go."

I suck in a deep breath, sorry that this moment has to end. "It was nice to see you, sir. I hope you enjoy your evening."

"I will, Isla." His eyes lock on mine. "I most certainly will."





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Gabriel




"We need to mingle, Gabriel." My mother pulls on my forearm. "That's what we came here for."

I don’t remember what I came here for. All I can remember is the way Isla looked at me when she questioned me about Cicely. There was an invitation woven into her eye's response when I told her I was alone. Her body backed that up when I glanced down to see the outline of her swollen nipples beneath the silk of the dress she's wearing.

She'd walked away from me without a turn back. It only upped my desire for her. She may think she's coy but I felt it. I felt the palpable tension between us.

"There's a string quartet playing in the atrium. I want to see that before we go into the concert hall."

Denying my mother anything at this point is only going to result in a temper tantrum to rival a child's. I came here to further the profile of Foster Enterprises so I'm committed to doing that even if my body is craving a taste of Isla.

"You go ahead." I gesture towards the entrance to the atrium. "I need a drink."

"Fine." My mother runs her finger along my chin. "I don't like this bristle, by the way. You need to shave that."

I nod. I'll allow her to continue to think that her opinion weighs heavily on me. It doesn't anymore. My mother's influence is restricted to a constant reminder of the type of woman I don't want to become involved with.

I love my mother endlessly but her insecurities are exhausting. I've been witness to her self-doubt and the consequences of that my entire life.

I hesitate as I approach one of the servers, knowing that I should be in the midst of the crowd, shaking hands and talking about the good work the charity I'm here to support is doing. I curse under my breath, adjust the arm of my jacket and walk towards the atrium, hoping at some point, I'll see Isla again before the night is over.

***

She's more beautiful now than when I saw her in the lobby. She's different in this space, with her eyes closed, and her body moving slowly to the music.

Her hands are elegant, gifted and as she tilts her chin up at the last note, I realize that this isn't something I'd ever imagined when she stood in my office begging for a second chance to sell lingerie at my boutique or when I saw her at Skyn, using her body to capture the attention of every man in that club.

This young woman has the entire room enthralled. I'd noticed the haunting sounds of the violin the moment I stepped into the space. I'd pushed my way politely through the spellbound crowd until I stood next to my mother mere feet from where the quartet had set up. That's when I saw who was creating the lingering melody that hung in the air. It's Isla.

She parts her lips as soft applause fills the space. I join in, tapping my hands together quietly as I stare at her, in awe of what I've just witnessed.

A dark haired woman holding a viola speaks softly to her. Isla nods and touches her shoulder gently before she pulls the bow back and glides it across the strings of the violin resting beneath her chin.

The woman joins in, her viola a perfect accompaniment to the tender sounds of Isla's violin. Davis Benoit is next to her, a cello perched at the ready. Another violinist is playing but I hear nothing, nothing, but the music that Isla is producing.

I look down at my mother who is captivated by the sounds, her eyes closed, her body slowly swaying as she finds comfort in the music.

This is one of the loves of her life. As children, she'd take us to the symphony when our friends were going to blockbuster movies. She enrolled my brothers and me in music lessons, but Caleb and I failed miserably. It was Asher, my youngest brother, who found his passion there.