Haze (The Fosters of New York 2) - Page 42

Jealousy hits me full on. It's not an emotion I'm that familiar with. I can't recall the last time I felt this burning pit in my stomach. "It's a customer?"

"I think he's more than that to Isla. He hugged her when he came in the door."

"What did he look like?" I ask before I even realize I've formed the question within my mind. What the fuck does it matter what he looks like? What matters is who the hell he is to Isla.

"He's very attractive." She sighs. "He's tall, dark hair, green eyes. He was wearing a nice suit. It wasn't a suit from Berdine, sir, but you know, it was well fitted."

"Did she say where she was having lunch?" I look across the boutique to where one of the sale associates is helping two women. "What time is she scheduled to come back?"

Her eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall behind us. "She should be walking back through the door any minute now. That is, unless she's late again. If she is, I'll handle it, sir. I can take care of it."

I toss a glance at the bank of windows that look out onto Fifth Avenue. That's when I see her. She's wearing a fitted grey dress and her hair is styled impeccably in a ponytail. As she leans forward to embrace the man she's with, I'm flooded with an instant, and unexpected, sense of relief.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Isla

"You two know each other?" I ask with a measure of surprise in my tone.

"Garrett is a friend," Gabriel pats Mr. Ryan on the shoulder. "He's actually the cousin of my closest friend. We travel in the same circles."

I should have known that. Almost everyone I've met since I moved to Manhattan is connected to everyone else. When I contacted Garrett Ryan to help me sort through some legal issues, I had no idea that he was actually one of the most in demand probate attorneys in all of New York. He's much more competent than the attorney I'd had in Chicago. Mr. Ryan has done more for me in the past two months than any other lawyer I've hired.

"I saw Vanessa last week." Gabriel pushes his hands into the front pockets of his pants. "My mother was admitted to the hospital. Vanessa was on duty that night."

"That's right." Mr. Ryan taps his finger on his chin. "I was glad to hear Gianna was alright."

I may not be following the conversation completely but I definitely know who Vanessa is. She's Mr. Ryan's wife. He came in last week to buy something special for her birthday. She's also a nurse with a very proud husband who loves her completely.

"I should get back to work," I say quietly because I can almost feel Cicely's eyes boring a hole into the middle of my back. "I have a lot to do this afternoon."

"I'll have my assistant prepare those documents we spoke of, Isla." Mr. Ryan's hand brushes against my shoulder. "We can have them ready tomorrow and if it's more convenient, I can stop by here with her to sign them."

"No," I blurt out quickly. "I mean, I have time after work to come to your office. I can be there by four at the latest."

"I'll clear that hour for you." His eyes dart from my face to Gabriel's. "It was good to see you, Gabriel. Call me and we'll meet for a drink soon."

"Next week," Gabriel replies as he holds out his hand. "We'll find time then."

***

"I think I should be included in this meeting." Cicely crosses her arms over her chest as she stands in the doorway of the office at the back of the boutique. "I'm Isla's manager, sir. Rowan told me to take more control over the employees."

I know he's going to send her packing, but I'd rather she stay. My day, so far, has been the shits. I'd ignored his suggestion to call his driver when I was ready to leave the hotel. Instead, I'd taken the elevator down to the entrance we arrived at last night. I'd asked one of the men standing near the door to hail me a taxi. The ride back to my apartment had been bumpy and reckless. I had to hold onto the back of the seat in front of me for dear life.

Once I finally got home, I had all of fifteen minutes to get ready for work all while trying to maneuver around Cassia's questions about where I'd spent the night. I'd pulled on the last clean dress I had in my closet and tightened my hair into a ponytail. With just a bit of make-up on, I hurried back out the door and made it to work with not more than a minute to spare. I know that, for a fact, because Cicely took it upon herself to point out the time to me.

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.

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Fosters of New York Romance
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