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I hadn't considered my choice of words at the time because I assumed that she'd understand that the invitation was offered in relation to her position at Liore. Not once did it cross my mind that she believed that the two of us would be attending this cocktail party before the symphony's performance as anything other than representatives of Foster Enterprises.
"Things are going well at the boutique," she blurts out, I assume, to change the subject. "You haven't come in since that day. I mean that day I found that trash."
It's been almost two weeks since I reviewed that security footage. It had taken all the restraint I possessed not to go back to the boutique after that day. I felt the pull on an almost hourly basis to walk in, under the guise of a short meeting with Cicely, just so I could see Isla.
It was type of temptation that is pure torture. The desire overwhelming, the need undefinable and the drive to listen to her voice, inhale her sweet scent and touch her is potent.
Once Rowan returned I'd delegated everything back to her, reminding her that she, and she alone, is responsible for the day-to-day operations of the Liore division.
She'd fallen back into step, speaking to Cicely about her management skills and spending time at the boutique to streamline their systems. Everything had calmed, even my unexplainable need to see Isla.
I had almost exploded at the boutique that day. My heart had pounded as I watched that footage, holding my breath with the hope that Isla wasn't fucking someone else. It made no sense. I have no claim to her.
I can't pull her into my world. I won't walk out of it the same. I can't risk that, not even for a woman like Isla.
"The performance is going to start soon, Gabriel." My mother taps my shoulder. "I want to freshen up before we take our seats. I'll find you in the concert hall."
No, she won't. She'll find a cocktail, and then another, and most likely someone more than willing to listen to her retell the story of what she deems her tortured youth back in Belgium. She'll never understand that having to fetch herself a glass of milk occasionally, when the private chef my grandparents employed was busy, is not the same as not having enough food to eat.
"I'll show you the way." I motion towards the doors that lead out of the reception hall and into the lobby of the venue. "I wouldn't want you to get misdirected. No good would come of that."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Isla
"Are you nervous?" I reach up to straighten the lapel of the tuxedo he's wearing. It's the second time I've seen him in it. He looks dashing. I'd told him that the first time and he'd laughed the way he does when he's embarrassed. "You look really nervous, Davis."
"A little," he confesses as he scoops my hand into his. "I wanted Derek to come with me tonight, but he had to work."
I sensed the disappointment in his eyes the moment I spotted him across the room. His partner, Derek, is the fountain of strength that he thinks he needs. He's wrong. I've known Davis Benoit for most of my life and I admire him more than anyone else.
Much of that has to do with his raw natural talent but there's also the fact that he's the most humble person I've ever met. I've watched him accept numerous awards and each time he is honored, he tells me that he's certain they've made a mistake. There's no mistake. Davis is brilliant and I'm very lucky that he's one of my closest friends.
"What time is it now?"
I glance down at my hands, realizing that I left my clutch with my phone inside back in the room I was directed to when I first arrived.
"Don't you have your phone?" I tap on his arm, before I point at the jacket he's wearing.
"I forgot mine at home. I was in a rush. Do you think I have time to use the washroom?"
I sigh heavily. I know that he needs to know the time not only so he can steal a few minutes away but so he can mentally prepare himself. We follow the same routine each and every time. The only difference is that usually Derek is nearby and he wears a watch.
I scan the area near us looking for a server. They always know the time and they're less likely to look down their noses at me when I ask. I don't see one so I take a few steps to the side, hoping one of them will pop into view.
I throw Davis a half-shrug before I start towards a couple standing a few feet away from us. They can't be much older than I am and when I first arrived, the woman had smiled at me. It was nothing more than a common act of decency but it felt generous to me.
