He strode forward, happiness replacing his regret. “On one condition.”
I sighed dramatically, reaching up to scratch Sage beneath her chin. “What condition?”
He came forward and rested his hands on my shoulders, not caring when Sage swatted him with her paw. “Just promise me that when a man does come along who makes you fall in love, that you’ll give him a chance. That you’ll reserve judgment until he’s proven he’s worth holding on to, and then you’ll never let him go.”
My heart plummeted to my toes as I smiled brightly, hiding the internal agony he’d just caused. “I’ll amend one piece of that promise and agree. If a man comes along. If that miracle happens, I’ll give him a chance before I squish him.”
What I didn’t say was I’d already met that man. That significant person who got under my skin and made me dream.
Only thing was, I hadn’t held on tight enough.
And I’d lost him.
Chapter Fourteen
THREE DAYS LATER, my life had returned to normal.
No more sleepless nights thanks to Mr. Everett—they were sleepless because of my guilt toward Nameless. Mundane mornings on the treadmill flowed into agonizing afternoons with board meetings.
Life was controllable once again.
Fleur continued to help me run the empire while Dad took a few days off at my insistence. His skin had lost some color, and I’d caught him coughing the other day with a rattle I didn’t like. If it was the flu, I wanted him safe and warm at home while Marnie, the cook, made him healthy snacks. I didn’t want opportunistic germs straining his already strained heart.
Steve helped me host a few conference calls from Beijing and Montreal about our new infant line releasing next month, and work once again tugged me deep into its clutches, erasing any memory of tipping alcohol onto some stranger’s head.
Until the third day when I scooped Sage up and headed to the shop floor for a quick walk around. I did random inspections throughout the week—never announced or fore-planned, so employees weren’t prepared.
If I had a spare fifteen minutes, I found no better place to stretch my legs than strolling around the racks of new-smelling merchandise, eyeing up displays, spying on staff, and scoring any areas that needed tweaking.
As the elevator carried me from the top floor to the bottom, the mirrored walls showed Sage as she lay over my shoulders, tapping my dangling crystal earring that matched the ivory dress with soft caramel lace. The lacy panel covered my chest and worked in a flower pattern to flare over my hips before reconvening at the hem.
Fleur had added it to my paperwork pile to take home with me last week. I’d thought it was too detailed and feminine for work attire, but when I’d tried it on this morning, I didn’t want to take it off. The paleness of it should’ve washed out my blonde complexion; instead, it made me glow as if I’d just stepped off a plane from Tahiti.
Not that I knew what that was like. The only air travel I did was to factories around the world, and I ended up wearing ear protection and overalls while marching around in heavy boots with a clipboard.
The doors opened with a soft chime, and I strode forward in matching caramel heels, clipping quickly over the anti-slip driftwood-planked floor that our focus groups said calmed them with the gray tones and encouraged spending mentality.
Everything—from the warm beige on the walls, to the deep purple curtains in the changing rooms—was chosen by a color guru who convinced us purple made people believe they were rich because it was the color of royalty and wealth, and beige stole their worries and stress, allowing them to see the treasure trove of merchandise that could all be theirs for the small price ticket tucked demurely inside.
“What department should we investigate first, Sage?” I murmured so as not to attract attention from shoppers.
Not that I could avoid being noticed, seeing as I strode purposely through Belle Elle with a cat wrapped around my shoulders. Luckily, she was of the small variety and not tubby like some cats I’d seen.
I glanced toward the lingerie department where an equal number of awkward men bought gifts for their loves ones while bold women brazenly fingered G-strings and garter belts.
I knew the manager, Kim, would keep her staff in line; the displays were impeccable with its small scaffold of pantyhose, playful kink, and lace. I wouldn’t waste my time on areas I didn’t need to improve.
Narrowing my eyes, I searched for sloppily folded sale items or imbalanced banners or scruffy shop assistants.
The houseware section was a little messy with its figurines and lamp cords. The women’s shoe department needed a memo to tell them to pick up empty boxes from customers pulling them from the shelves. And children’s wear would definitely earn a slap on the wrist for a banner promising twenty percent off bibs when a high chair was bought.
That promotion ended two days ago.
However, the area that set my heart racing with chaos was the man’s division where five-thousand dollar blazers were tossed over racks, obscuring pressed trousers and faultless shirts. Ties draped over mannequin arms like streamers, and the sock table was a rummaged disaster.
Sage meowed softly, most likely saying in kitty talk for me to calm down before I found the unsuspecting manager and fired him on the spot.
“Where the hell is he and his staff?” Striding forward, my hands curled as yet more disorder revealed itself. A shirt had fallen off its hanger and lay on the floor. The floor! Belts tangled in a viper-nest on the cash register.
What the hell is going on?