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  "How is she?" I hear the tremble in my own voice as I pat the side of his cheek. "I tried calling Caleb on the way here but he wasn't answering.

  He rests his hand on my back. "We're running tests. Caleb and Rowan are with her. I'll take you to them."

  Tests. The word itself doesn't define a thing. She's had tests before and each time the results have been the same. She's anxious. She gets worked up. She demands attention.

  "Did anyone call Asher?" Her voice is the first thing I hear when I push the blue curtain separating her cubicle from others aside. "Will he come? Is he coming to see me?"

  Caleb is sitting in a plastic chair, drawn close to the bed. Rowan, still in the silver sheath dress she wore earlier, is standing behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

  "He can't right now, Gianna," she says quietly. "I told him we'll call him once we know more."

  "I want to speak to him." Her voice quivers. "Can someone get him on the phone?"

  I step forward, not only to answer her question, but to relieve my brother from his post. "I'm here. I came when I heard."

  Her eyes drift lazily over my face, never stopping to acknowledge my presence. "If you tell Asher I need him, he'll come."

  "Tell me how you're feeling, Mother." I pat Caleb on the shoulder signaling for him to move. "I'll sit with you now."

  "Her blood pressure spiked." Rowan glances at me. "She was having trouble breathing. I was in the kitchen making her a coffee and Caleb was changing in the bedroom. I heard her fall."

  "She went home with you?" I ask with a cock of my brow. My mother has a suite at the hotel the company owns in midtown. It's a private space dedicated just to her for when she's in New York.

  Caleb squeezes my shoulder. "I thought it best. I was hoping we could both speak with her in the morning together about the latest development with dad."

  I cast my gaze down at the bed. It's obvious that this is more than an anxiety attack. The color has drained completely from her face. She's visibly shaking.

  "Are you alright?" I lean down to kiss her forehead. "What happened? Did you feel faint?"

  Her bottom lip quivers slightly before her eyes settle on Caleb and then me. "He called when I stepped into the powder room."

  I take a deep breath, understanding now. She knows. Father called to tell her.

  "I think my heart is broken." Her hand, with a tube attached to administer an IV, rests in the middle of her chest. "He loves someone else. He's never going to love me again."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Isla

  "Have you ever been in love, Isla?"

  I wonder if this is a trick question. It might be genuine but it's doubtful. I'll answer honestly because that's the best policy, or so they say. Besides, this conversation may actually help to get my mind off of Gabriel. I'm still floating after what happened in his car last night. "No, I've never been in love."

  "Is it because of your weight?"

  Well, fuck. I stepped right into that.

  "What's wrong with my weight?"

  Cicely's eyes run over the same pink wrap dress I wear at least once a week. "Nothing. I mean you're not exactly overweight. I guess you're what people refer to as curvy."

  I guess you're what I refer to as a raging bitch.

  "I haven't had any complaints." I smooth my hands down my sides to my waist.

  "You said you have a boyfriend," she segues effortlessly. "Don't you love him?"

  "No." I pull more bras out of the cardboard box at my feet. "I had a boyfriend and I didn't love him."

  "He dumped you, didn't he?"

  Seriously, Cicely? Get over yourself already.

  "The break up was mutual," I say even though I know I should walk away from her so this conversation, whatever it is, can end. I've been back here helping her unpack the delivery for more than an hour. It's Steph's turn to do it now. "What about you, have you ever been in love?"

  "Yes."

  The answer catches me so far off guard that I drop the bras in my hands back into the box. "You've been in love?"

  "Once." She swallows so loudly that I'm sure everyone in the boutique can hear it. "It was a long time ago. I was young."

  She's still young. "What was he like?"

  Her brow furrows slightly as she picks up the bras and begins sorting them herself. I watch in silence as she moves her lips, as if she's rehearsing what she'll say.

  "It's your birthday today, isn't it?" She gives me a weak smile. "I forgot to wish you a happy birthday this morning."

  I've never felt pity for Cicely before. She presents herself as closed-off and cold. Maybe that's just a façade and beneath all of that is a heart that has been tortured and broken. Perhaps she was hurt so deeply that she can't allow herself to feel anything for anyone, not even a hint of kindness or compassion.

  "Thank you." I smile back.

  "You should get back out on the sales floor." She nods towards the stockroom's open door with her chin. "The merchandise can't sell itself."

  ***

  "I believe this belongs to you." Gabriel holds my violin case in his hands. "I'm sorry I didn't return it earlier."

  I shake my head slightly. "No, please. You have nothing to apologize for. How is your mother?"

  He brushes against me to place the case on the front counter. "She'll be fine. It was exhaustion and stress. She'll take a day or two to recover in the hospital. Then we'll go from there."

  I glance across the boutique to where Cicely is helping a customer. "I'm glad that she's fine. I was worried after you got that call last night."

  He takes a step forward, his hand leaping to the dark blue tie around his neck. He adjusts it as he looks down at me. "If it were anyone else in dire need, I would have told them to go to hell."

  I cast my eyes to the floor as I feel a blush race over my cheeks. He'd been a gentleman after the driver had told him about his mother. He slid me off his lap, exited the car almost immediately and then helped me out. After walking me to my building's front door, he'd kissed my forehead before sprinting back to the car. "Thank you for giving me a ride home."

  "You can thank me by allowing me to buy you dinner tonight, for your birthday."

  I look up and into his eyes. "Tonight? You want to go for dinner tonight?"

  Exhaling roughly, he steps even closer. "I realize it's short notice. You have plans, don’t you?"

  They're not official plans. When I'd walked through the door of the apartment last night, Nigel and Cassia were curled up under a blanket on the sofa. I felt an immediate sense of relief when I saw that they were both clothed. I'd tried to scurry past them to my bedroom but Cassia had stopped me to insist that I have dinner tonight with both her and Nigel. I'd agreed, mainly because I was so tired and still riding the high of kissing Gabriel just minutes before.

  "I told my roommate and her boyfriend that I would have dinner with them," I say honestly.

  There's a noticeable pause before he says anything and I realize he's waiting for me to continue. He expects that I'll say that I'll change my plans. I can, but Cassia has been so good to me since I moved to New York and the excitement in her smile when I said I'd love to have dinner with them was touching.

  "Another time then." He steps back.

  "I'd like that," I say. "Again, thank you for bringing my violin to me."

  "Enjoy your birthday, Isla." He studies my face before his eyes trail down to my dress. "You're on the cusp of an incredible future. I feel honored that I saw you play last night."

  The words mean much more than he'll ever know. "Thank you, Gabriel."

  A ghost of a grin floats over his mouth. "You listened. I like that. I'll be in touch."

  "I'll look forward to it." I take a deep, shaky breath as I watch him turn on his heel and walk out of the store.

  This time I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Gabriel Foster was not only checking me out, he's as interested in me as I am in him. This may be the best birthday I've ever had.

&
nbsp; CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Gabriel

  It was mid-afternoon when the floral bouquet I'd ordered for Isla was delivered. I'd been insistent with the florist about the flowers she included. I don't have any knowledge about what Isla prefers but I know what I find beautiful. I wanted something fragrant and bright that will bring a smile to her gorgeous face.

  It had.

  She'd called my office shortly after three, asking to speak to me. I was in a meeting but Sophia had been instructed to interrupt me the moment Ms. Lane called.

  Her voice is as soft on the phone as it is when I speak to her in person. I could hear the sincere gratitude in her tone.

  The card, delivered with the bouquet, was a request for a celebratory drink at my favorite bar after her dinner plans. She'd agreed on the phone to meet me there at eleven.

  Six hours from now.

  It's a risk, perhaps not even a calculated one. The moment we kissed last night, I was lost to it all. To the need to know her, the hunger to be near her, and the constant and always present desire to fuck her.

  "Are you going to make time for mom today, or not?" Caleb rounds the corner and walks through the open doors of my office. "I was just at the hospital and she said you're a no show."

  Naturally she'd say that. I stopped by there after I'd been to the boutique to return Isla's violin. My mother had been upright, sitting in a chair by the window, chatting away on her smartphone to someone who obviously sympathized with her plight.

  I'd sat on the edge of her hospital bed, for a full twenty minutes, waiting for her to end the call, but she hadn't. My day was too busy to devote it to listening to my mother discuss what nail polish color would be the best choice since her manicurist was on her way to the hospital.

  After a quick kiss on her forehead, and a chat with my cousin, Ben, about the improvement in her condition, I'd left.

  "I was there earlier." I swipe my finger across my tablet. "She was talking on the phone."

  "She's waiting for you to visit her." He ignores everything I just said. "Rowan is stopping by the hospital after work. You can catch a ride with her."

  "I have plans." I do. I'm going to the gym before I take a long, hot shower. After that, I'll get dressed and then head to the bar to meet Isla.

  He arches his left brow. "She's going to be pissed."

  "I'll call her to say goodnight." I gesture towards my phone. "She'll get over it, Caleb. She always does."

  ***

  I'm on my second scotch when I see her walk into the bar. Her hands are holding the skirt of her short black dress in place against the harsh wind that blew up late this evening. Her hair, likely polished and pristine when she left her apartment for dinner, is now a tangled mess around her face.

  She looks disheveled in the most alluring way possible.

  Her eyes scan the dimly lit space just as I stand. I see the instant recognition and perhaps, relief, in her expression when her hand rises in a small wave.

  She walks towards me. Steady and determined in her heels. Although they give her a fair few inches in height, I still tower over her.

  "Gabriel." Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. "I'm sorry if I'm late."

  She's not late. I'd paced the floor of my penthouse for a solid hour before I called for my driver to bring me here. That was shortly after nine.

  I've been sitting in this chair, tending to emails on my phone, while waiting. I shared the table briefly with a designer we'd done business with three years ago and then twice with women who took it upon themselves to join me.

  I'd made it clear, quickly, that I was saving my time, and attention, for someone else.

  Any other night, I might have bought one, or both, a drink. I'd listen to them tell me about their lives and the shortcomings with the men they've been with before. Then, I'd pay the tab, escort them to a hotel and within minutes, I'd be fucking every last ounce of stress in my body away.

  Not tonight. Tonight is only for Isla.

  "You're not late." I grab her upper arms as I lean in to kiss her cheek. "You look beautiful tonight."

  The pressure of my grip brings a small moan to the surface. Her lips part as she looks up and into my face. "You look nice too."

  Compliments, like that, are part of my life. I accept them, gratefully, but I never absorb them. New York City is filled with handsome, successful men. I know that.

  Hearing the words from Isla is different. It's understandable since she's incredibly different.

  "How was your dinner?" I ask as I pull on the back of a chair next to where I was seated.

  She lowers herself into it with a nod of her head in appreciation. "It was delicious. They took me to a restaurant in Greenwich Village. It was so good."

  I sit down again, but not before moving my chair closer to her. "What was the name of the place?"

  Her eyes slide over my thighs before she looks up and at me." I'm not sure. We all went together in a taxi. I have pictures of my dinner though."

  She reaches to where she'd placed her clutch on the table. The motion pulls the front of her dress taut, the fullness of her breasts visible beyond the low cut neckline.

  I take a drink. I may need another.

  "It was really good." She scrolls through the images on her phone. I catch glimpses of her next to a dark haired woman her age, a pigeon eating breadcrumbs from a sidewalk and then, a plate of pasta.

  She pushes the phone towards me. "I took a few. You can see what I mean. It tastes as divine it looks."

  Her exuberance is contagious. I can't help but smile when I watch her speak.

  I drop my eyes from her face to her phone, resting on the table in front of me. I stare at the screen and the bowl of pasta she deemed worthy enough to capture it in a badly lit photograph.

  "There are two more pictures." She leans closer, her hand brushing against mine. "Just swipe."

  I do as told, running my finger over the screen.

  "That's not it." She reaches forward to grab the phone but I'm too quick. I scoop her hand in mine to stop it.

  I dip my chin towards the screen and the image of Isla in a blue dress. It's obvious she took the picture in a mirror. "This is one of our designs. You look stunning in this, Isla."

  Her lips move slightly as her eyes search mine. "I just wanted to try it on. I went to Arilia one day before work."

  "I had no idea the dress could look like this." I pick up the phone, tilting it slightly to the left to gain more light from the overhead fixture. "You belong in this dress."

  She reaches forward to gently take the phone from my grasp. "The dresses in the Arilia store are all beautiful. The designers are really talented."

  I don't press the issue when I see the server approaching. I wait as he asks her what she'd like to drink.

  She smooths her hand over her hair, pushing the soft blond locks behind her left ear. "I think I should stick to a sparkling water. I'm trying to avoid alcohol right now."

  "You are?" I ask with a grin. "This is your twenty-first birthday. You don't want a drink to celebrate?"

  "No," she says assuredly. "I can't. I promised myself I wouldn't drink tonight. I want to remember every moment of my first birthday in Manhattan. Sometimes when I drink things get foggy."

  I glance down at my watch. "There are still forty-five minutes of your birthday left. I'd like to make those memorable. "

  Her lips curve. "What do have in mind?"

  I pull myself up from the chair as I stand and extend my hand towards her. "Come with me, Isla. I'll make this a day you'll never forget."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Isla

  "You wouldn't stand close to the edge." I tap his chest lightly. "Does the world know that Gabriel Foster is scared of heights?"

  He laughs deeply, the sound bouncing against the steel walls of the elevator. "I'm not scared of heights, Isla. I was watching you enjoy the view."

  "Is that your story?" I giggle. "I can play along for the press if they ask."
/>   His brows shoot up. "You would do that for me, Ms. Lane? You won't tell the media hounds that I took you up to the roof of the Foster Enterprises building so you could see the stars while I stood far away from the edge, trembling in my boots?"

  "They're not boots." I point to his feet. "They're fancy Foster shoes."

  "Fancy Foster shoes?" His hand jumps to my chin before he runs his fingertip over my bottom lip. "That just may be the hashtag we use on social media when we launch the new men's shoe collection."

  I part my lips slightly, pushing my tongue out so it can touch his finger. "You're not in charge of marketing are you? If you are, you shouldn't be."

  Tipping his chin, his eyes rake me slowly from head-to-toe just as the elevator chimes its arrival on the top floor. "You're certain you want to join me for a bottle of sparkling water?"

  "Yes, sir, I'm sure."

  His gaze meets mine and I see something shift. The playful parts of him have slipped into the background again. The intensity that is almost always there is present now.

  The doors of the lift open. His head turns slightly towards the expansive space, complete with large windows that give an unobstructed view of the city. "I did promise to make this a day you'll never forget, Isla. Come with me."

  ***

  The entire time that Gabriel and I were on the roof of the Foster Enterprises building I was completely aware of the way he was looking at me. Even when I was near the edge and he was ten feet behind me, I could feel his eyes trained on my back.

  I was hoping, when we got into the car, that he'd kiss me again. I wanted that but instead he'd pulled my hand onto his thigh and covered it with his own while he talked about all the things he loved about Manhattan.