Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
The only spot of brightness is the woman behind the desk, Sophia. She has a slight southern drawl that reminds me of my third grade teacher. She's pretty, but in a muted, unassuming, way.
I glance towards Cicely who is still in full-on preparation mode. I will the doors of Mr. Foster's office to open but they don't. Engaging in idle talk about a job I may no longer have, isn't helping with my increasing anxiety. If I'm fired, I want to know so I can start looking for something else to fill in my time until my future really begins.
"It's a wonderful place to work," I try to sound as sincere as I can. "Do you like working here?"
There's a slight pause as her eyes flit across the room towards the closed doors. I see the hesitation in her expression before I hear it in her words. "I'm very lucky that I have this position."
I should push and ask for more but the details of why there's a hint of disgruntled dissatisfaction in her tone doesn't matter to me. I'll likely be off the Foster Enterprises payroll within the hour and I'll never set eyes on her again.
I clear my throat with the intention of saying something trivial about the weather and the cool breeze that took over the city this afternoon but I'm stalled when the doors to Mr. Foster's office burst open.
Cicely and I turn in unison to see a beautiful woman dressed in dark pants and a white blouse walk through the double doors towards us. As she turns back briefly, her rich brown hair brushes her shoulders.
From where I'm sitting, I can't see the person she reaches for but I know it has to be him. It takes just a few seconds for her to confirm that in a hushed tone. "You've always been my favorite, Gabriel. You will always be my favorite."
A deep chuckle fills the room as he steps forward, into view, to scoop her hand into his. As he raises it to his lips, he looks down into her face. "Asher is your favorite, Mother. We all know that he is."
She shakes her head briefly before she reaches up to touch her lips to his cheek.
"Mr. Foster." Cicely ignores any sense of decency and interrupts the tender moment by jumping to her feet. Her hands run over the skirt of the simple brown dress she's wearing. "We were here early, sir. You said we should be here at four o'clock. We were here by three fifty. I just want you to know that."
With her words, his eyes leave his mom's face and dart to Cicely and then settle on me, lingering there until his mom taps his chest. "Do I want to know what this is about? What are these two doing with all those Liore shopping bags? Is this some kind of clothing drive? Do they work at a shelter?"
I push back the urge to laugh at the suggestion that we're collecting expensive lingerie to clothe the city's least fortunate. As much as the comment amuses me, it maddens Cicely. "I'm the manager of the Liore boutique, Ma'am. You're Gianna Foster, aren't you?"
The hand that Cicely extends hangs in the air for several seconds before Gianna tentatively grabs hold of it with her own. "I'm Gianna Foster. What are you doing here? If you manage the store, you should be there, no?"
Yes, Mrs. Foster, she should. Instead, she's on a crusade to defend ugly ass garter slips and I'm along for the ride.
"I come bearing samples of one of our new items." She swings both her arms so wildly in the air that she stumbles backwards, her heel tapping the edge of one of the bags causing it to fall over spilling most of its contents on the polished floor.
Gianna grimaces as she drops Cicely's hand to point towards the garter slips that are now in full view. "Look what you've done."
Before Cicely has a chance to turn to pick up the slips, I'm on my knees, pushing them back into the bag. I would have been happy to stay where I was but if I'm going to hold onto this job, I need to make at least one good impression on Gabriel Foster. This may be my only chance.
The room falls silent except for the sound of shoes against the marble floor. I catch a glimpse of a black wingtip oxford just as it comes into view. There's little time for me to react before I sense him crouching next to me. I suck in a deep breath hoping that he won't fire me in front of all these women while I'm on all fours with a handful of lingerie.
"Allow me to help." His breath races across my cheek as he leans in to scoop up the lingering pieces.