Haze (The Fosters of New York 2) - Page 12

"Sure," he says sullenly. "I'll think about it."

I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I watch him stand up, walk down the hallway and disappear into the darkness of Cassia's room.

***

"What did you and Mr. Foster talk about after I left his office? It was about me, wasn't it?"

Yes, Cicely, of course it was. What else could the hottest man I've ever seen want to talk about other than you and your wardrobe which seems to take on a more unsightly tone by the day?

"The weather," I shoot back as I give her a once over. I had hoped that my eyes were playing sleepy tricks on me when I walked into the boutique twenty minutes ago but that is indeed a multicolored pantsuit paired with green ankle boots. She looks like a rainbow hit a tree full force.

I opted for a short, floral print dress and teal heels. I'm going to have to up my game if I want a customer's attention today. The three that have entered the boutique since I started my shift have all stopped to actually stare at Cicely.

"The weather?" she parrots back as she cocks both brows. "Mr. Foster doesn't strike me as the kind of man who talks about trivial things. Besides, why would I have to leave if you two were talking about that? I know it was about me."

Her ego train has obviously left the station and is barreling down the track at breakneck speed. I'm guessing the fuel behind that is the fact that Mr. Foster called ten minutes ago to tell her about a new promotion he wants to launch next month.

I'd overheard the conversation, or at least Cicely's side of it. Her voice had taken on a higher lilt. She'd listened intently and then had asked a series of short questions before thanking him for the call. The smile that lit up her face when she turned back towards me irked me in a way it shouldn't have.

Cicely is a Liore lifer. It's obvious that she plans on building her career here so I shouldn't fault her for doing her job well. I need to check my attitude if I'm going to chart a new course. I want this job for the foreseeable future so I need to do what's necessary and that includes obeying her rules. She is, after all, my boss.

"What are you doing the last Wednesday of the month?" Her words halt me just as I'm about to round the counter to walk towards a customer who is giving a display of silk panties a second glance.

"What? You mean on the 30th?" I turn back so I'm facing her.

She nods softly. "You're only scheduled until three that afternoon. I'm supposed to work until store closing but I need to switch."

I study her face, wondering if she's testing me. It doesn't matter if she is or not, I'm busy that night. "I'm sorry, Cicely. I can't. I have plans. "

I see something flash across her expression. I can't place it since it disappears too quickly. "I have plans too. Mine are with Mr. Foster."

If she's expecting any reaction out of me, I'm not going to give it to her. I stand stoic even though my mind is racing. Gabriel Foster is into Cicely? If I'd bet money on that, I would have lost. She doesn't strike me as his type, but what do I know?

"I'll ask someone else." She looks over my shoulder. "I don't want to disappoint Mr. Foster. He's looking forward to it."

I'm sure he is. I have no idea why he'd be looking forward to it, but to each his own, as they say.

"You should get out on the floor, Isla." Her fingers wave past my head. "There are customers waiting."

I glance in the direction of her hand towards a middle-aged man holding a bra at arm's length, his Rolex peeking out from under the arm of his suit jacket. I smile as I walk straight towards him knowing that by the time he leaves the store, I'll have made half my month's rent.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Gabriel

"Who are you screwing these days?"

I don’t need to look up to know who is standing in the doorway of my office. It's the same question he's asked me since we were teenagers living in a cramped brownstone. He was as brash and unreserved then as he is now. The fact that he recently got married hasn't muted him at all. Caleb, my younger brother, will never change.

"Close the door." My eyes stay trained on my tablet.

"It's not that woman in accounting, is it?" he asks brusquely as he slams the doors behind him. "When I was down there last week I caught a glimpse of her computer and you, my dear brother, are her screen saver."

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Fosters of New York Romance
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