Haze

My lunch with Mr. Ryan might have been a bright spot in my day if he hadn't handed me a letter my mother had given to her attorney to pass along to me. Months ago I would have cried while reading it. Today, I just felt empty as my eyes scanned the handwritten words. On the surface, to a stranger, they'd seem heartfelt and touching. I know better though. She's flailing and the only words that I crave from my mother are the ones she'll never say to me.

"This is a private matter," he says as he takes a step towards her. "Close the door on your way out."

"Anything that concerns the boutique should include me." She actually stomps her shoe against the floor. "I'm going to stay."

"You're going to leave now." He waves her away with a brush of his hand in the air. "Close the door. Get back to the front of the store."

An audible sigh escapes her lips as she turns on her heel and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

Cicely has a bitchy attitude. Who knew? Well, actually, I did.

I look at Mr. Foster. His hair is in place. He's more composed than he was last night. He looks almost exactly as he did the first time I saw him. He also looks completely different to me now that I know what it's like to kiss him and come from the sensation of his mouth on my pussy.

"I'd like to discuss what happened last night, Isla."

This day already feels much heavier than I can manage. Possibly if I hadn't read my mother's words wishing me a happy birthday, I'd feel more emotionally equipped to talk to him. The letter was filled with sentiments I wish were true but sadly, each and every one was a thinly veiled attempt to manipulate me into giving her what she wants. That has nothing to do with a relationship with me and everything to do with money.

I cross my arms over my chest. Maybe it's an attempt to shield myself from further damage. Maybe it's nothing more than my need to stay resolute in the decision I made earlier when I left the birthday card and tickets he'd given me back in his hotel room. "There's nothing to discuss, Mr. Foster. It was a mistake. I'm sorry it ever happened and it will never happen again."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Gabriel

This is the point where I typically cut my losses and walk away. I don't have these discussions with women because I've never seen a need to. Whenever I've been with a woman and the connection has charted off the course I've wanted it to stay on, I've ended things. Investing my time, and energy, into someone I know I won't see beyond a few weeks is wasteful. There is clearly no shortage of women in Manhattan. There is, however, only one Isla Lane.

"That's not true." My jaw tightens. "It was not a mistake, Isla. It was one of the most memorable evenings I've ever had."

She blinks. "You don't have to say that. I'm not going to fall apart because of this."

I don't need to hear those words to understand that.

What she doesn't understand is that I'm already falling apart because of her words.

"I apologize for leaving in a rush this morning." I move closer but she retreats towards the door in an equal step. "I was faced with a time sensitive issue. It had to be handled immediately."

"You're a busy man." She shrugs her shoulders. "I get it. You had to go."

I haven't seen her like this before. She's closed off. She's built a barrier around herself. It's there in her posture and also in the tone of her voice. She's being dismissive, bordering on curt.

"I've upset you," I offer with an outstretched hand. "Tell me what it is, Isla. Give me a chance to fix it."

Her head shakes from side-to-side. "That's not necessary. I'm sorry I came to your hotel room."

The realization hits me immediately. I say the thing I've been thinking since I saw her nude, standing by the window last night. "I'm sorry I took you to that hotel room."

Her bottom lip quivers slightly but she's quick to halt its movement with a slow pull of her top teeth across it. The action shouldn't be as sensual as it is, but how I react to her is overpowering.

"You agree that it was a mistake?" As much as she tries to contain the emotion in her voice, she can't. I hear the tremble in it, the raw reaction.

I step closer still and this time there's no movement at all on her part. "I agree that you don't belong there. I agree that I should have taken you to my penthouse."

Her hand leaps to her chest and the soft flesh that is visible above the neckline of her dress. "It wouldn't have changed anything. Things still would have gone the way they did."