The table instantly falls into chatter.
She’s confident and beautiful, and she looks like a high-fashion model rather than a . . . what does she do again?
I glance over to see Jameson and his father subtly roll their eyes at each other. Hmm, what’s that about?
Tristan begins to talk to a man at the table next to us and laughs out loud. He really is very friendly.
Melina takes out her phone and pulls a duck mouth and takes a selfie. She leans toward me. “Get in,” she says. “I’ll tag you.”
I pull out of her grip and lean away. “No thank you.” I smile. “I don’t do social media.”
“What?” she gasps as she looks me up and down in disgust. “Why on earth not? What’s wrong with you?”
Okay . . . this woman’s a rude pig.
“I don’t like social media, that’s all.” I shrug.
“What’s not to like?” She keeps taking her own photo.
I stare at her deadpan. “A misrepresentation of society with unrealistic images that portray a fake lifestyle with impossible ideals,” I reply as I sip my wine. Don’t piss me off, bitch.
Jameson smirks as he stares straight ahead. His finger circles on my bare shoulder.
“Oh God.” She rolls her eyes and takes another selfie.
I glance over, and Jameson’s mother smirks and winks at me.
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. God, cut out the snarky bitch act, Emily, I remind myself. Just be nice for once.
Jameson and his father fall into conversation, and I sit quietly. The waiter comes over and goes to refill my glass. “No thank you.” I smile.
Melina talks to the other people at the table; she’s laughing loudly and loves attention. She’s not at all the type of woman I thought Tristan would go for.
“Emily, you must come and visit us in the Hamptons,” Jameson’s mother says.
“Thank you.” I smile. “That would be lovely.” I should try to make conversation. “Do you go on weekends?” I ask.
“We live there mostly now,” she says. “We still have our apartments here, of course, but the change of pace is lovely.”
“Oh.” I smile. How many apartments do they have here? Jeez, they really are from a different world. “Sounds great.”
“Jameson said you are from California?” she asks.
“Yes.” I fake a smile. He told them about me? “I’ve only been here a month.”
“And what do you think of New York?”
“I love it.” I smile. “It’s amazing.”
Jameson’s hand sits on my shoulder for moral support while he talks to his father.
“Jameson told us that you met each other more than twelve months ago,” Elizabeth continues.
“Yes.” I fake a smile. Oh dear God. What did he tell them about how we met? Please don’t let it be the truth, that we sat next to each other on a boozy flight and flirted like sex-starved fools and then had wild layover sex for twelve hours while I tried to suck every last drop of blood from his neck. I pick up my wine and tip my head back and kick Jameson’s foot.
Help me, fucker.
He smiles as if he already knows what’s going on in my head.
Tristan finally takes a seat, and Melina leans over and kisses him. “Let’s go mingle.”
He frowns as he takes his first sip of scotch. “No, babe. I’m staying here. Knock yourself out.”
Melina waves at a woman on the other side of the room and stands. “Back in a moment.” She smiles to the table as she practically runs to the woman and air kisses her two cheeks. “Darling,” she cries, and they fake gush over each other.
My eyes find Jameson’s, and he rolls his lips in amusement. It’s as if he can read my mind.
She’s a twit.
Jameson’s jaw tilts skyward, and his tongue runs across his teeth as if he’s angered. I follow his line of sight and see a group of men and women arriving at a table across from us. My eyes flick to his father and mother as they look on as well.
“Who are they?” I whisper.
“The Ferrara family.”
I frown in question.
“They own the Gazette and Ferrara Media.”
My eyes widen. “Oh.” I go back to watching them as they all sit around the table. Three sons and a mother and father, Italian by the looks of it. Gorgeous-looking people . . . all dark hair and brown eyes. Only one son has a date; the other two are alone. The eldest son looks over and smiles when he sees us. He waves and dips his head. Jameson dips his head back in a polite but cold gesture.
“Who’s that?” I whisper.
“Gabriel Ferrara,” Jameson replies as he sips his drink. Contempt drips from his every pore. “The CEO.”
My eyes widen. I can tell that there is no love lost between the two families.
CEO versus CEO.
“Emily?” a woman’s voice gasps from behind us.
We all turn to see a woman. I know her. “Athena.” I laugh as I stand. Athena is in her sixties and a woman of the world. I adore her.
“Oh my God,” she gasps as she pulls me into an embrace. “Jameson Miles, how on earth do you know Emily Foster?”
He chuckles.
“Emily has been my intern every college holiday for three years.” Athena laughs.
George looks on as if impressed.
“She wouldn’t move here for my company.” She smiles as she rubs my arm.
“What do you mean?” George asks.
“Best damn reporter I ever had,” Athena replies. “I’ve offered her a job every year, but she always turned me down, stating that Miles Media would be the only reason she would move to New York.”
I smile awkwardly. Please shut up. I’m trying to play it cool here.
“Is that so?” George smiles over at me. “Well, she’s found her place at Miles Media.”
Athena looks down at Jameson’s hand as it rests on my lap. “I can see that.” She smiles down at me. “Emily, come, I have someone I want you to meet.” She glances at Jameson. “Can I steal her for a moment, please?”
“Of course.” He kisses my hand before he lets me go. His eyes linger on my face, and I smile softly.
This man is just so . . .
Athena pulls me over to the other side of the room. “Oh my God,” she splutters as we weave between the tables. “You’re dating Jameson Miles.”
“Yes.” I laugh.
“He’s the most delicious man on the planet.” She turns back and smiles at me. “And the crankiest.” I giggle as she drags me to the bar to a group of women and men who are all standing around. “Lauren, look who’s here! Emily Foster.”
“Oh my God.” Lauren laughs as she hugs me. Lauren and I were interns together in our second year. Lauren went on to work with them. “What are you doing here?” She smiles excitedly.
“I’ve moved to New York now. I work for Miles Media.”
“Really?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
“Oh my God, we have to catch up.”
“Yes.” It would be so nice to have a friend here that I don’t work with. “Make sure we get each other’s numbers.”
I glance around, and everyone has a drink. “I’m just going to get another champagne.”