The guy’s a fucking sleazebag. And now I can’t even go home because I lied to Jay about where I am.
I walk into a Thai restaurant, and the waiter approaches me.
“Can I have a table for one, please?” I ask sadly. I’ll just eat dinner alone and then go home to my man.
I can’t believe I fell for that trick. What an asshole.
At least there’s no story.
Jameson
I bend and kiss Emily on the forehead in the dark. She’s still sleeping. “I’m going, babe.”
“Hmm.” She wraps her arms around me and pulls me down on top of her. “No, don’t go. Play hooky today.”
I smile in her arms. “I can’t; I have a meeting this morning.” I sigh. I have so much damage control to do. Even though the immediate story-leak threat has come to an end, this battle with Ferrara is nowhere near over. If anything, I feel it’s about to come to a head. “Two days until we go away,” I remind her.
She smiles with her eyes closed. “Two days is too long, Mr. Miles. One of these days I’m going to kidnap you.”
We kiss softly, again and again, and I can feel my arousal grow between my legs. I pull back from her. “I’ve got to go,” I whisper into her hair. “If I stay here, I’m going to fuck you and be late.”
“Good.” She smirks. “Fuck me and be late.”
I chuckle against her lips, and with one long, last, lingering kiss, I get up and stare at her lying in my bed, which is all messed up. She smiles up at me, and my heart constricts. Nothing has ever looked so perfect . . . or felt so right. Even with all this shit going on, Emily instills in me a sense of calm, as if the whole world is still all right because we have each other. “I love you.”
“I love you more.” She smiles as she sits up and makes a last-minute attempt to drag me back to bed.
It’s so fucking hard to leave when she’s like this.
I make my way downstairs and see my trusty friend Alan standing beside the car.
“Morning.” I smile.
He gives me a sad smile, and I frown. “Everything all right?”
He opens the door of the limo, and Tristan, Christopher, and Elliot are in the back, waiting for me.
I frown. “Hi.” My eyes flick to Alan in question. “What’s going on?”
“Get in.” Elliot sighs.
I glance between them; their faces are solemn, and I know something has happened. “Is dad all right?” I ask.
“Dad’s fine.”
“Mom?”
“She’s great. Get in.”
I get in and close the door, and the limo pulls out into the traffic.
“I want you to know that we don’t believe anything about this, and we are simply here for you,” Tristan says.
“What’s going on?” I snap as agitation washes over me.
Elliot hands me the paper. I stare at it for a moment, and it takes a few seconds for my brain to process what I’m seeing.
The front page of the Gazette is a huge image of Emily kissing Jake the investigator.
She’s holding his hand and smiling as his lips press to hers. It looks as though it’s in a restaurant or something.
I frown as my chest tightens. “What the fuck is this?” I snap angrily as I flick the paper.
I scan the story.
Jameson Miles—Media Guru’s Fall from Grace
In what appears to be the final nail in Jameson Miles’s media coffin, his fiancée, Emily Foster, has been having a secret affair. The two have been spotted in various locations and were snapped holidaying in Italy two months ago. Leaked bank statements released today prove that Jameson Miles has been embezzling money and transferring it to an offshore account. The board is expected to fire him as CEO of Miles Media today, and criminal charges will be laid. Looks like Emily Foster jumped ship just in time.
Chapter 21
I look up to my brothers, speechless.
I stare back down at the photo of Emily. She’s wearing her yellow dress . . . the same one she was wearing yesterday. My eyebrows rise by themselves as I try to make sense of this. “When was this taken?”
“No idea, but it had to be lately. She has the bracelet on that you bought her.”
I glance down to her arm, and sure enough, the diamond-and-gold bracelet is on her arm.
Can it be?
I frown—a clusterfuck of questions . . . not my Emily, no.
“We know it’s not you,” Elliot says. “You’ve been hacked; we will prove it. I promise you.”
“What?” I frown, unable to string a sentence together. I drag my eyes up to my brothers in confusion.
“There’ve been transfers, Jameson. Millions of dollars have left our bank accounts with your password,” Christopher says solemnly.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you talking about?” I whisper. “I don’t understand.” I glance back down at the image. “When was this photo taken?”
“This is a setup; I’m sure of it,” Tristan snaps. “Emily wouldn’t do this.”
“What?” I frown, unable to believe what I’m hearing. I run my two hands through my hair as I begin to perspire; adrenaline rushes through my bloodstream.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Elliot snaps. “The timing of this image going to print is no coincidence.”
I frown as my eyes come to Elliot.
“Has Emily been in your apartment alone?” he asks.
I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion.
“Has she had access to your computers, Jameson?” Christopher snaps.
I screw my face up. “Yes . . . but . . .”
They all sit back in their seats as if collectively coming to a conclusion.
I look between them. “What?” I whisper.
“I think Emily’s working with Gabriel Ferrara. It’s all a little bit too coincidental, if you ask me. She’s been sent in to keep you occupied while he planned your demise.”
“What?” I snap. “That’s preposterous.”
“Yes, it is,” Tristan agrees. “Fucking ridiculous.”
“Think about it,” Elliot snaps. “She conveniently shows up here and, within weeks, has you by the balls.”
“What?” I screw up my face. “Fucking bullshit.”
I reread the story as fury rages inside of me like never before.
Elliot hits the paper with the back of his hand. “What’s this fucking photo, then?”
“A setup,” Tristan snaps.
I stare at the image; she’s holding Jake’s hand and smiling as he kisses her . . . it looks like she’s happy to be there. My eyes flick to Tristan in question.
I have no idea what to think . . . what the actual fuck is going on here?
“I’m telling you, man, it’s a camera angle; you know better than anyone that the right angle can tell a completely different story,” Tristan says.
“Bullshit. Where there’s smoke there’s always fire,” Elliot growls. “Nevertheless, Emily Foster is fucking irrelevant right now. Deal with her later. You’re being accused of embezzlement. You could go to jail, Jameson.”
I run both of my hands through my hair as I bring my focus back to the facts.