Haze

by Deborah Bladon

  He acquiesces, his long fingers stroking my clit beneath the surface of the water. "What happens after next Friday?"

  I close my eyes as I move on his hand. "She's moving out."

  He reaches up to cup my breast with his free hand, pulling and twisting my nipple. "Are you going to get a new roommate?"

  "That spot," I groan. "Why does that feel so good?"

  "Your cunt is so sensitive, Isla." He kisses me softly. "It's so plush, so greedy and wet."

  I can't focus on anything but my desire to come again. I move forward when the thickness of his hard cock rubs against my ass. "I love when you fuck me."

  "Let yourself go." His breath is a whisper against my neck. "Let yourself feel."

  I grab hold of his biceps, pushing my fingernails into his rock hard muscles as I grind my pussy into his hand and fall over the edge crying out his name.

  ***

  "Are you going to get a new roommate, Isla?" He places the empty ice cream container and two metal spoons on the nightstand. "I can help you find someone suitable."

  "You mean someone without a cock?"

  He chuckles. "I'd prefer if you didn’t live with a man, but it's your choice, of course."

  I know that he means that. I can't imagine he'd ever tell me what to do or what decisions to make. I do want his guidance though. He's educated in areas that I have little experience in.

  "Can we talk about something?" I close my eyes briefly to chase away my doubts. "It's something personal."

  He lowers himself back to the bed so he's facing me directly. He pulls a corner of the sheet over his lap, shielding his body. I'm grateful. Telling him about my life while staring at his cock, would be a welcome, but awkward, distraction.

  "We can talk about anything you'd like. Tell me what it is."

  His phone rings. The sound startles me enough that I pull the sheet tighter around me. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe I'm not supposed to feel so comfortable with him that I'm sharing my innermost secrets.

  He doesn't move. He doesn't even flinch as it continues to ring.

  "It might be about your mother," I say quietly.

  "My mother is in the very capable hands of a private nurse she hired." He taps his finger on his knee. "I believe they went to the theater tonight and then they likely went to dinner. She's fine."

  I scratch my neck. "A private nurse? She's okay, isn't she?"

  "She's one of the healthiest people I know." He brushes his fingers across my cheek. "She had an anxiety attack that night, nothing more. I'm not concerned about her. I want to focus on you. What did you want to talk about?"

  Maybe that's actually the sign that I've been waiting for. He'll understand. He has issues with his own mother. I clasp my hands together in front of me. I take a deep breath and I look right into his eyes. "My mother is suing me. She's trying to take away everything my grandmother left me."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Gabriel

  It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Her mother is suing her. Suing.

  "My grandmother is Ella Amherst. She was Ella Amherst." She wrings her small hands together. "I know you probably don't know who that is, but she was very well known. She was very successful."

  "Your grandmother was Lady Amherst?"

  She laughs loudly, her hand bolting to her mouth. "She started calling herself that and it stuck. She liked the way it sounded."

  "Isla." I move forward on the bed. "My mother loved Lady Amherst. She had recordings, actual records, of her music. Your grandmother was gifted. I had no idea."

  "We don't share the same last name." She pulls on the dainty earring in her left ear. "She never took my grandfather's name. She told me that she liked her own too much."

  "You have a beautiful name," I say it because it's obviously the truth. "You inherited your grandmother's talent though. That's why you play the way you do."

  "I will never be as good as her." She smooths her hand over her hair. "She was one in a million."

  "As are you, Isla."

  "You're too kind." She looks up at me. "We were very close. I lived with her before she died. There were some issues with my mother so my grandmother was given custody of me."

  "Issues?" I ask because I suspect it's much more serious than a disobedient teenage girl rebelling against her mother.

  Her gaze follows my movements as I lean forward onto my right hand. She looks so angelic in this light, so fair and innocent. I've been tempted, for weeks now, to have someone delve into her background. I've craved the details of her life before she worked at the boutique but it's her story to tell, not mine to discover. If her grandmother is gone and her mother is suing her, what the fuck is her father doing?

  "I toured when I was a child." She closes her eyes and shakes her head abruptly. "That sounds pompous. My mother was my manager. She booked me to perform at different places."

  "Perform where?"

  "Anywhere we could make a dollar or two." She taps her fingers one-by-one. "Weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs, graduation parties, birthday parties, you name it."

  "In Chicago?" I study her face. "This happened in Chicago?"

  She shrugs. "It began there but she saw opportunity everywhere. We started traveling all over the world. She pulled me out of school. She married a man from Chicago just so he'd take care of my sisters I think."

  "When did this end?"

  "I had to repeat seventh grade." She covers her face with her hands. "I failed because I didn't know anything when I took the final exam. My grandmother stepped in then."

  "Stepped in how?" I ask the question softly. "Is that when she took custody of you?"

  She hesitates before she answers, her hands pulling at the blanket covering her lap. "My mother spent everything I'd earned. My grandmother came to get me one day and my mother didn't stop her."

  She didn't stop her because Isla was no longer providing her with what she needed. "Where was your father in all of this?"

  Her head pops up quickly, her bottom lip trembling. "I don't know him. My mother met him at a bar. She never knew his last name."

  Fuck. Fuck all of these people who let this happen.

  "May I have some water please?" she asks so softly. Her voice is so vulnerable that my heart aches for her. "I'm thirsty."

  I nod before I pull myself up and walk out of the room, knowing that whatever I have to do, I'm going to protect her.

  ***

  "Mr. Ryan," she begins before she hands me the empty glass. "Garrett is advising me not to settle with my mother, but I think I want to."

  I brought her a full glass of water almost thirty minutes ago. Since then she's sipped at it while telling me about her mother's quest to get her greedy fucking hands on Isla's inheritance. What mother steals from her child, not once, but twice? The woman should be held accountable for what she's done, not given a portion of the money intended for Isla's future.

  "Tell me why you want to settle." I place the glass on the nightstand. "Where is that coming from?"

  She glances at me. "When I was a little girl my mother loved me a lot. She doesn't anymore."

  Jesus. Please. How can anyone mistreat her?

  I can't offer her anything in response to that. My mother may not be perfect, but she loves me. I know that wholly.

  "I moved to New York because one day I want to play with the Philharmonic." Her expression shifts. "My grandmother wanted that for me. I want that for me."

  "I believe it will happen, Isla." I don't say the words lightly. She's determined, and beyond that, incredibly talented.

  "Since I came here, my mother has been sending me things." She purses her lips together. "Letters, gifts, pictures."

  "Why?"

  Her brows arch. "At first I misunderstood. I thought she wanted to repair things between us. I thought she'd drop the lawsuit so we could mend our relationship."

  I'll ask even though the answer is painfully obvious in her face. "That wasn't her intention, was it?"

 
She inches forward on the bed and I sense her need. I tug her into my lap, pulling her close to my chest, cradling her in my arms.

  I feel the deep sigh that flows through her as she settles next to my chest. "She did it to try and make me feel sorry for her. She told me that any decent daughter would take care of her mother. All those things she sent me were just meant to remind me that once, a very long time ago, she loved me and I could pay to have that back."

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  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Isla

  "Have you considered studying at Julliard?" He asks as soon as I pull the bow from the strings. I'd played three of my favorite compositions for him while I sat cross legged on the bed, wearing only his dress shirt. He's sitting in the chair nearby, a white robe open around him.

  Our discussion earlier ended when I went to get my violin case so I could play for him. I know that he wanted to talk more about my fucked up relationship with my mother, but I couldn't bear it. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable that I had to retreat to the place where I feel safe. That's with my violin. It offers a comfort that nothing else can.

  "I was accepted to Julliard," I confess softly. "I was granted a full scholarship before I graduated from high school."

  "So you studied there and then took a job at Liore?"

  I'm pretty sure if I studied at the most prestigious music school in the country that I wouldn't be hawking expensive lingerie in his store.

  "No." I cradle my instrument in my hands. "The scholarship offer was withdrawn."

  "Why?" He moves from the chair to the corner of the bed in one fluid motion. "Why would that happen?"

  My chest tightens. "I was suspended from high school more than once. I broke the rules."

  A ghost of a grin flies over his lips before he pulls them into a thin line. "What rules did you break?"

  "Name one," I say flippantly. "I broke most of them."

  "You were truant?"

  "Truant?" I repeat back. "You're asking if I skipped classes?"

  "Yes."

  "Many."

  "You had bad grades?" He bends his leg at the knee. "Did you fail some of your classes?"

  I stare at this cock long enough for him to tap my thigh to get my attention. "I didn't fail anything in high school. That's not a rule."

  "Tell me what you did that got you into so much trouble."

  I trace my fingers over the weathered wood of the violin. It was a gift from my grandmother. It had been her instrument for years before she purchased another. It's my most treasured possession.

  "I was late for class a lot. I got caught. I made out with a boy on school grounds. I got caught for that too."

  "Those aren't serious infractions. You lost your scholarship because of those things?" His eyes are warm, his expression understanding.

  My brows rise. "I lost my scholarship when I was caught cheating. That's one of the hard and fast rules you can't break."

  "You were caught cheating?" I hear the disbelief in his tone as much as I hear it in the words. "What was it, Isla? Algebra? History? Did you smuggle the answers to a test in on a piece of paper or maybe you wrote them on your hand?"

  "Nothing like that," I mutter. "It was economics. It was a year after my grandmother died and I had been at the cemetery. I rushed to school for the test. I forgot my notes were in my bag. After the test the teacher searched all of our bags and he found them."

  "That's extenuating circumstances, Isla."

  "No, Gabriel." I set my violin down on the bed next to me. "That is cheating, according to my high school."

  "You broke all these rules after she died, didn't you?"

  I bite my bottom lip to hold back the tears. "I was only seventeen when she died. I had to go live with my mother for that year. Every single day was a blur. I just wanted to escape my life. I just wanted to escape all that pain."

  ***

  "I know people in the admissions office at Julliard." He stares at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as he adjusts his tie. "I can make a few calls today."

  I'm not surprised by the offer. I anticipated it, although I admit, I thought he might do it behind my back.

  "No," I say firmly as I smooth my hands over the same black dress I was wearing last night. "I can reapply if I want."

  "If you reapplied, you'd be accepted, Isla." He straightens his jacket. "I promise I won't become involved unless that's something you desire."

  It would be the easy track to get my life back to where I want it but it would also create a debt I don't want between us. I can take care of myself, and my life. I want, and need, for him to fully understand and support that.

  "I might quit my job at the boutique soon."

  That statement warrants a full turn on his part until he's facing me directly. "You're going to quit your job?"

  "I've been waiting for an opening at a music school on the Upper West Side." I pull my hair up and into a ponytail, using the elastic band I keep in my purse. "I would teach violin to children."

  His hands fall together in front of him. "That sounds interesting."

  "It's a private school." I look past him to the mirror, realizing that my face is still flushed from when he'd licked me to orgasm after we'd woken this morning.

  We'd fallen asleep holding each other after I shared the tortured confessions of my high school days. He hadn't said anything after I spoke of the pain I felt when my grandmother died, but his silence and comfort were exactly what I needed.

  "This is what you want?"

  I smile softly as I rake him from head-to-toe. He looks stunning, as always, dressed in a suit, freshly shaved, his hair in place. "I want all of that but I can't be late for work. Cicely will fire me and I want to have the satisfaction of seeing her face when I quit."

  He chuckles. "I wasn’t referring to my body, Isla. The job; the teaching job, that's what you want?"

  "I want to play my violin. I want to share music with others. This is how I can do that right now."

  "I'm fully behind this." He turns back towards the mirror. "It's a win-win for us."

  "How so?" I dart up behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest.

  He pats my hands with his. "You get to do what you enjoy and I get to breathe again knowing that you'll keep your clothes on when you're at work."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Gabriel

  "Who knew dad was only worth low six figures." Caleb waves me into his office. "How much do you think I'm worth?"

  "A buck ninety-nine on a good day."

  "Fuck you," he shoots back with a grin. "You're funny now, too? Who the hell is this woman you're sinking your dick into? She needs a goddamn medal."

  I've yet to introduce Isla formally to any of my family. She did have that awkward meeting with my mother at my office, but the moment I explain that she's Lady Amherst's granddaughter, Isla will become the apple of my mother's eye. I already know that. I saw it when my mother listened to Isla playing in the atrium that evening weeks ago.

  "Have you spoken to Roman about Caterina?" I walk towards the windows. His office isn't nearly as spacious as mine and the view pales in comparison, but he's content here. His life has evolved the past few months since he married. His time here, in the building, is limited to nine-to-five, no more, often less.

  "I broke his heart last night." He shifts restlessly. "I sent him the emails we exchanged with her and an image of the cashed check."

  "Will he speak to us again?" I already know the answer to that. My father, although a proud man, is aware of his appeal to the younger women he courts. He knows that they're not drawn to his greying hair and sizable paunch. He may have believed otherwise before today. The fact that his fiancé took a check worth much less than I was prepared to offer is pro
of of her motivations.

  Caterina Omari actually took our first offer, with little fanfare. I could almost hear her drooling over the phone. That problem is solved.

  "He's coming into town next week." He taps out a message on his smartphone. "We'll do dinner. You can bring the woman who unearthed your personality."

  "Fuck you."

  "We're done." He gestures back towards the door. "I don't get to dismiss you often so I'm taking pleasure in this."

  "How's Rowan?"

  "Pregnant."

  That pushes me to sit in the chair in front of his desk. "What?"

  "You heard me old man." It's the nickname he hasn't since we were in high school. "I'm going to be a dad. Me? Wrap your mind around that."

  I can't. Literally, I cannot imagine my younger brother as a father. "She's pregnant?"

  "Three months pregnant." He beams. "We don't know yet if it's a boy or a girl, but I don't give a fuck what it is. I'm going to have a child, Gabriel."

  I stare at him across the desk. He's only two years younger than me but every time I look at him I see the same eight-year-old kid who used to sit next to me on the stoop of the brownstone we lived in. He'd ask me about all the constellations and I'd point them out, one-by-one, while he sat quietly listening.

  Somewhere between then and now he grew up. He got married and now, he's going to be a father. He'll be a good one; an honest and protective one. He'll be remarkable.

  "I'm happy for you both." I stand again.

  He reaches out his hand as an offering but I ignore it. Instead I round his desk, push his chair back and pull my younger brother into a warm embrace.

  ***

  "Isla flashed her underwear to a customer, sir." Cicely shoots Isla a look across the boutique.

  "Did she now?"

  She turns towards where I'm standing. "I think that's breaking a rule, sir. She's always breaking the rules."