“I know, right?” I roll my eyes.
“Why did you tell him where I was?”
“I don’t know,” I stammer. “He put me on the spot.”
“Ugh, great. Now we have to sit with this wanker.”
“Can we just go?” I whisper. “This whole fucking night is a disaster.”
“No. We are staying here until the lights come on.”
I put my head into my hands, and my phone rings. “Hello, Molly,” I snap, annoyed that she’s avoided this hell. “Nothing’s fucking happened yet.”
Monday morning, 10:00 a.m.
My phone on my desk rings. “Hello, Emily,” Sammia says. “Mr. Miles would like to see you in his office right away, please.”
Excitement runs through me. “Okay, I’ll come now.”
I fix my hair and reapply my lipstick and practically run to the elevator. I hope he’s missed me and is making an excuse to see me. I get to the top floor and stride through the foyer. “Hello, Sammia.”
“Hi, Emily. Just go through.”
“Thank you.”
I can walk on the marble today, because I finally bought those new shoes with the rubber soles. Not a click in sight. I knock on his door.
“Come in,” his deep voice purrs.
I open the door, and my face drops. Jake is sitting in front of Jameson’s desk. “Hello.” I smile.
What’s he doing here? Buzz off. This is my time with him.
Jake turns to me, and his face lights up. “Hey, Foster.”
Jameson’s eyes hold Jake’s. “You two seem very chummy.”
“Oh, we went clubbing together on Saturday night, didn’t we, Foz?” He smiles happily.
Jameson’s eyes come back to me, and his jaw ticks in anger.
Holy fuck.
Chapter 13
“Oh,” I stammer in a fluster. “We ran into each other, that’s all.”
Jameson raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Oh, don’t be shy, Foster. We get along famously,” Jake the imbecile says.
I feel the blood drain from my face. Just shut the hell up, would you?
I turn back to Jameson, hoping to change the subject. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes.” His eyes float over to Jake. “I want to know what leads you have, Mr. Peters.”
“Call me Jake,” he says.
Jameson glares at him but remains silent. Oh man. This is uncomfortable. I grip my notepad with white-knuckle force. Why did he have to say we went out together?
We did not go out together. I feel my face begin to perspire.
“Get to the point,” Jameson snaps.
“Well, I’m chasing a few leads, nothing concrete yet. It’s very early days.”
“Early days?” Jameson repeats. “Are you aware, Mr. Peters, of the importance of a swift resolution on this matter?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“No buts,” he growls. “Our stocks dropped by four million dollars today. Every damn day they drop by that much.” He slams his hand on the table, making us both jump. “Do not tell me it’s early days,” he bellows.
Jake and I wither in our chairs. I’ve never seen Jameson this angry. He is stressed.
I wonder if he went for a run this morning. I’m guessing not.
“Mr. Miles,” I interrupt.
Jameson puts his hand up to silence me. “Emily, I want four stories this week.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They need to be sharp, relevant, and, most importantly, traceable.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“You can go,” Jameson snaps. “That is all.”
I frown as my eyes flick between him and Jake. Who’s he talking to? “Me?” I point to my chest.
“Yes, you,” he snaps. “Who else would I be talking to?”
I feel anger flutter in my stomach. “Fine.” I pick up my notepad and stand.
“I want the stories by four o’clock each day.”
“Very well,” I call as I walk toward the door.
“Send Tristan in,” he snaps.
I’m not your damn secretary. I open the door and fake a smile. “Sure,” I say through gritted teeth as I close the door behind me.
Damn rude pig. Who the heck does he think he is? I close my eyes in pity for Jake. He’s going to get eaten alive in there.
Jameson Miles is fucking mean when he’s stressed. I see why he runs—probably keeps him out of jail. Who knows what would happen if he didn’t exercise?
I walk out to the reception area and then through to the other side of the building, and I knock on Tristan’s door.
“Come in,” he calls.
I smile when I hear how much he sounds like his brother. I open the door. “Jameson asked me to . . .” I pause as I try to make it sound nicer than how it came out.
“He wants to see me?” Tristan smirks.
“Yes.”
He stands. “Everything okay?” he asks casually as we begin to walk back to reception.
“He’s . . .” I shrug as I try to think of a description. “Agitated.”
“Hmm.” He frowns as if concerned. “He has a lot going on, but you already know that.”
“Yes.” I smile as my eyes hold his. Does he know?
He winks as he walks down the corridor toward Jameson’s office. “Catch you later.”
What was that wink? Was that code for “I know you fuck him”? Does he know we are back together?
Shit.
The receptionist isn’t at her desk, and I glance down the hallway toward Jameson’s office. Damn it, what’s going on in there?
The door opens. Shit, I don’t want them to see me. I duck behind the reception desk, and then I hear Jameson’s sharp voice as he says something, and I wince. Jake storms past and gets into the elevator and hits the button with force.
The doors close, and my eyes widen as I peer out from behind the desk. What the hell did he just say?
Jameson
I inhale deeply through my nose as I try to calm myself down.
“For God’s sake, Jameson,” Tristan snaps. “Tone it down. The poor bastard is doing the best he can.”
“Bullshit. He’s useless. He’s been here a week and hasn’t a fucking clue what’s going on. He’s more interested in chasing the damn girls around downstairs.” I go to the bar and pour myself a scotch and then walk over to the window and stare at the city below.
“It’s ten o’clock,” Tristan says dryly as he watches me.
“So?” I snap as I sip the scotch and feel the warmth of it roll down my throat.
“And the damn girl downstairs wouldn’t happen to be Emily Foster, would it?”
“Don’t fucking start.” I roll my eyes. I’m fucking livid that she went out with him on the weekend. “Have you got the management report?” I snap to change the subject.
“No, it’s in my office.” He heads for the door. “I’ll go get it.” He disappears as I stare out over New York.
“Hi.” I hear a soft voice from behind me.
I sigh as my gaze stays out the window. “Go back to work, Emily.”
“Are you all right?” she says as she walks toward me.