Haze

She'd left my dorm room in a huff with the handcuffs still attached to one of the posts of my bed frame. I'd tossed them in the trash along with her number.

I prefer softer restraints. Fabrics that have enough give to allow a woman to feel comfortable, yet enough strength to hold her exactly where I want her to be.

Isla's preference is metal. Although judging by the condition of her handcuffs as they hit the floor a few feet from where I was standing, they've rarely been used, if at all.

That might speak to her experience or lack thereof. Either way, it's becoming harder to ignore her.

"Mr. Foster, you're finally here."

I look to my right to where Cicely is standing, her voice conveying the same panic that her text message had.

"Cicely, the building isn't on fire. I don't see anyone with a weapon demanding money." I gesture towards the crowded sales floor. "If there's an emergency here, I'm not seeing it."

"I didn't mean it was that kind of emergency, sir." She's wringing the pair of lace panties within her knotted fists so tightly that I wouldn't be surprised if they ripped in two.

"Don't manhandle the merchandise."

"I tried calling Wallis but it goes straight to voicemail." She sighs heavily as her eyes survey the boutique. "I found something in one of the change rooms. I don't know what to do with it."

I have no idea why I didn't call her before I raced to the boutique. Actually, that's a lie. I know why. The reason is blonde, effortlessly beautiful and now bent over to retrieve a bra that the customer she's helping has dropped. I wanted to see Isla.

"Will you look at it?"

"Look at what?" I can't pull my gaze from Isla. She's laughing. Her eyes dancing over the face of the woman she's helping. It's obvious why she sells more product than any other sales associate in this store. She's captivating. Who in their right mind could walk away from her?

"It's in the back office, sir." Cicely's hand rests on my forearm. "I'll show it to you now."

I turn my head to look at her hand. "I don't have time for this. You're the manager. Your job is to handle anything and everything that involves this store."

"I know. I do. I just don't know how to deal with this."

"Are you like this with Rowan?" I ask out of sheer frustration.

Foster Enterprises employs thousands worldwide. Each of those people has to report to someone above them within the company's hierarchy. For Cicely, that's Rowan Bell and right now, I'm cursing the fact that I sent her to Europe at all. She should be back here, holding Cicely's hand to get her through this latest non-crisis.

"Like what?"

"Exactly what am I doing here?" I pull my arm free so I can turn to face her directly. "I can't imagine what you found that warrants me dropping everything to come down here."

"I can't say it, sir." She blushes as she looks up at me. "Can you please just come with me so I can show you?"

"Fine," I snap. Unless I give this woman what she wants, which amounts to even more of my time, she's not going to leave this be.

I follow her through the store, my eyes locking briefly with Isla's as I offer a simple greeting to the customer she's helping. Although I want nothing more than to stop to speak with Isla, I don't. I need to see what has Cicely in knots so I can get to the first of several meetings I have scheduled this afternoon.

"It's right over here, sir." Cicely marches across the tiled floor of the cramped office to a wastebasket sitting next to a plain metal desk covered in invoices, order forms and schedules.

"What is over here?" I stop to glance down at my smartphone in my palm.

"That." Her hand darts into the air towards the wastebasket. "I found that on the floor in one of the change rooms an hour ago."

I shake my head as I move towards her, my eyes glued to her face. "We hired you for this position because of your background in retail, Cicely. Unless you can show more leadership and take more control over this store, I'm going to discuss an alternative arrangement with Rowan."

The expression on her face doesn’t shift at all and I realize she likely didn't hear anything I just said. Her hand is bobbing in the air right above the wastebasket.

I drop my gaze, lean forward and look in.

"You found that in a change room?"

She nods briskly. "I found it an hour ago, sir."

"Who was working then? Who was here?"

Her bottom lip quivers slightly. "It was just me and Isla. We were the only two here."

I stare at the used condom and the empty foil packet. It's the same brand that fell from Isla's clutch and littered the floor of the club.