Haze(8)

I roll my eyes not caring if Gabriel Foster catches the movement or not. I doubt like hell that I've saved my job. I don't take an ounce of comfort in the fact that he hasn't brought up what happened in the store earlier.

He's been bombarded with dealing with Cicely and her impromptu meeting since we arrived. I expect to be next on his agenda which means I'll not only have to face his wrath but I'll have to do that with Cicely as a witness. If that's not karma, I'm not sure what is.

"Is there anything else that you need?" He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Cicely fumble with the bags. "I assume that we've covered everything you came here to address."

"Yes, thank you, but if I think of anything else I'll call you." She pushes two of the bags towards me with her foot. "Isla and I will go back to the store and pack these up. She can drop them at the courier's office on her way home."

I turn to look at her, realizing that if I do indeed walk out of here with a job, I'm going to have to do everything she says since she is technically in control of my every movement at Liore.

"Isla won't be accompanying you back to the boutique." He takes a measured step towards us. "I need to have a word with her."

Cicely's brow furrows as she studies my face. "I'm her manager. Is it something I need to know about?"

"This doesn't concern you." His eyes are trained solely on my face. I know he's waiting for me to react but I won't. I'm not about to break in front of my manager. I don't want to give her a glimpse into that part of me. To her, I'm just another in a string of women, who will work at Liore for a short time before they mess up.

I've heard her sharing stories with Wallis while they've stocked shelves. I won't be the first, or the last, woman to be fired from the boutique by Mr. Foster. I just don't want to be the only who was fired by him in front of Cicely.

"Should I wait in the reception area?" She struggles to pick up all four of the shopping bags. "I can wait there until Isla is done."

"There's work for you to do at the boutique." He scoops the handle of two of the bags into his fists. "I'll have Sophia call a car for you. The driver will help with the bags."

She only nods faintly in response as he leads her towards the doors of his office and out of my view. As he closes the doors behind both of them, I slide back into the chair I was sitting in earlier to await my fate.

***

"If you're going to fire me, can you do that now?" I tap the toe of one of my nude heels against the polished marble floor. I haven't moved at all since he came back into the office and sat behind his desk. He'd been gone for close to twenty minutes, which felt longer than an eternity to me. "I don't like playing games."

My admission pulls a faint smile over his full lips. "You don't like playing games? Do I strike you as the type of man who engages in games, Isla?"

It's a loaded question. Judging by the fact that the building we're sitting in has his surname blazoned across the front of it, I'd guess that Gabriel Foster has played more than his fair share of corporate games to gain the upper hand in the cutthroat world of fashion. His company's designs are featured on the world's most prominent runways.

The Arilia line for women and the Berdine line for men set the tone for the company's success. The designs are classic and sophisticated.

I glanced at the price tag of two of the dresses from the spring collection when I tried them on a few weeks ago in a boutique in SoHo. I'd snapped selfies in the mirror before I slid them off my body and handed them back to the woman waiting outside the dressing room door. She'd sighed under her breath. It was a faint sound that carried the judgement of someone who thought I couldn’t afford the expensive fabric that bore the Arilia brand.

I'd left the store and boarded a bus to take me to Liore for my shift. The Liore lingerie offering is new for the Foster brand but it's already selling well and for the time being, I'd like to keep myself attached to that in the form of a steady stream of commissions. That means I need to do damage control to convince Gabriel Foster that I don't normally plan secret, after work, meetings in the offices of the men who visit the store. I may have gained a few points when Cicely was in the room, but now it's just me fighting for my job.

"I don't think you play games," I try to sound genuine. "I didn't say that."

He leans forward, his dark eyes boring into me. "You offered me a private show in the comfort of my office. I'd like to understand exactly what that entails."

I nervously skim my hands over the thin fabric of the skirt of my dress. I glance down at my lap, the pale nude polish on my fingernails has chipped away leaving a jagged layer of shimmer that catches the light when I glide my hands towards my bare knees.

"Isla? Do you have an explanation for me?" he asks, his voice startling me.

I look up and across the desk to where he's sitting. It's the perch from where he runs his business and apparently also subtly intimates people. He's doing it to me now. I know he expects me to back down. Men like him always do. They think the fact that they have more life experience or a larger bank account means they can push me into a corner with their words, or in some cases, their bodies.

"It's not something I've done before," I admit. "I haven't made that offer to any other man who has come into the boutique."