by Swan, T L
“Of course I have. I don’t fuck around.”
I scrunch up my nose in disgust. “Honestly, kick this douche to the curb.”
“I will. As soon as I find him.”
I roll my eyes and feel my phone vibrate in my bag. I dig it out. “Hello, Molly.”
“What’s happening?”
“We can’t find him,” I reply as I look around.
“Go and sit in the corner out of view, and wait for them to get there. Don’t stand where they can see you.”
“Oh, right.” I put my hand over the phone. “Molly says we should sit somewhere out of sight so he doesn’t see us.”
Aaron points at me. “Great idea.” He grabs me by the hand and leads us over to a booth. “I’ll sit here. You go and get drinks,” he snaps as he slides into the seat.
I roll my eyes. “Are your kids really fucking home?” I snap to Molly. “How did I get stuck with this job?”
She laughs. “I’ll call back in an hour.” Then she hangs up.
“What do you want to drink?” I ask.
“A pink flamingo.”
I look at him deadpan. “That is the gayest drink I ever heard of.”
“Because I’m gay.” He widens his eyes in exasperation; he’s in no mood for my jokes tonight. “Just get it.”
I giggle and head to the bar to wait in line.
“Hey, Foster,” I hear a man’s voice call from behind. I turn and see Jake from the investigation team.
“Oh, hi.” I smile. “What are you doing here?”
He holds up his drink. “Drinking.”
“Obviously.” I smirk.
His eyes scan up and down my body in my black dress. “Wow, you look hot.”
I smile bashfully. This is awkward. “Thanks.”
“Want to come dance?”
“Um.” I frown. Oh God. “No, thanks anyway. I’m here with Aaron.”
“Oh, where is he?” He looks around.
Oh shit, now I’ve done it. “He’s in a booth at the back.”
“I’ll go say hi.” He disappears off in that direction.
Oh great. Now we are going to have to act normal, when all we want to do is Paul-hate and spy.
I get our drinks and head back to the table and find Aaron and Jake deep in conversation about work.
Hmm. I wonder. Does he think Aaron’s involved and is milking him for information? I sip my drink as they talk, and I do an internal assessment of him. He’s actually quite good looking, with sandy hair, a square jaw, and dimples, and he has a great laugh. I’ve never noticed him before because whenever Jameson is in the same room, all men pale in comparison.
“I’m going to get a drink and come back and sit with you guys,” he says as he stands. “You want one, Foster?”
“No thanks.” I fake a smile.
“You, Az?”
“No, I’m good,” Aaron replies.
He disappears to the bar.
“Oh my God,” Aaron scoffs. “I didn’t come here to talk about work, and what’s with the fucking nicknames? He’s not my friend.”
“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.
“I’m fine.” I clench my jaw to stop myself from looking at her.
She walks over and takes my scotch from me and goes to the sink and pours it down the drain.
“What the hell are you doing?” I frown.
She smiles up at me and slides her hands under my suit jacket and around my waist. “Looking after my man.”
“Don’t tip my fucking drink out.”
“Then don’t drink because you’re stressed. You’re playing with fire, Jameson.”
“You’re not my mother.”
She smiles sexily and goes up onto her toes and kisses me softly.
I glare at her. “I’m furious at you.”
“I know.” She kisses me again. “I wasn’t going out, and then we had to spy on Aaron’s boyfriend because he was meeting someone there from Grindr. And Jake turned up and wouldn’t stop talking to us. He’s so annoying.”
I glare at her.
She smiles and snuggles into my chest. “I missed you this weekend.”
I feel myself relax for the first time since I dropped her off at home on Saturday.
“Don’t miss me, Em.” I sigh.
“I can’t help it.” She kisses my lips, totally oblivious to anything I’m saying. “If you’re stressed, you go down to the gym, or you come and get me. What about karate? I hear that’s amazing.”
I roll my eyes. “Doing karate and turning into the fucking Kung Fu Panda will not relieve my stress, Emily. It’s laughable that you think that it would.”
“Okay, well, hell, go for a run. I don’t want you day drinking.”
I snap my arm around her waist, unable to control myself any longer. “And I told you I don’t want you out with other men. Especially him.”
She runs her fingers through my stubble as she smiles softly. “You’re my only man,” she whispers up at me. “It’s you that I’m thinking about.”
I feel my anger slowly leave me as we kiss.
“I need you tonight,” she says softly.
God, I need her too. No, stick to the rules. “It’s not Tuesday.”
“I don’t care.”
“Do you have to disobey me on every single thing, Ms. Foster?”
“Just you wait to see how naughty I’m going to be tonight, Mr. Miles,” she breathes as I pull her against me to feel my erection.
“Ahem.” A voice sounds at the door, and we both look up, startled.
Emily jumps back from me. “Tristan,” she splutters. “I was just . . .” Her eyes flick between him and me. “I mean, I . . .”
Tristan chuckles. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” she stammers. “I’m leaving.” She practically runs for the door. “Ah, um, goodbye.”
I smirk as I watch her face turn a deep crimson. Tristan already knows—we tell each other everything. “Goodbye, Ms. Foster. I shall send the car for you at seven.”
She nods in embarrassment and scurries from the office, and I smile after her.
Tristan’s eyes hold mine for a moment. “She’s good for you.”
“That’s debatable.”
Emily
I smile broadly at the closed elevator doors in front of me. It worked. I wanted to calm him down, and it worked. He’s a mirror. If I’m calm, he’s calm.
Maybe if I’m honest, he’ll be honest, and I don’t know what that means for my little hard-to-get act, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough. He didn’t seem annoyed when I told him I missed him—he actually seemed relieved. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part. I get back to my floor, and my eyes scan the room as I walk back to my desk.
Somebody working here, alongside me, is a thief. They’re stealing from the Miles family; the company’s value is plummeting, and my Jay is stressed beyond belief.
I wish I could talk to Molly and Aaron about this. I’m sure if we brainstormed together, we could come up with more than Jake has.
I can’t; I gave them my word I wouldn’t tell a soul. I take a seat back at my desk.
“How did it go?” Aaron asks.
“Fine,” I lie.
“It’s blatantly obvious that Mr. Miles has a thing for you.” Molly smirks.
“Why is it?” I ask.
“We never got this kind of specialized training program.” Her eyes flick to Aaron. “Did we?”
“Nope,” he replies as his eyes stay glued to his computer. “Please tell me you are secretly going up there to suck his dick.”
I smirk but stay silent.
Molly’s eyes come to me in question. “Are you?”
I shrug. I can’t lie to them; I just won’t elaborate.
“What the fuck?” Aaron whispers as he rolls his chair over to mine; Molly, too, rolls her chair over next to mine. “You have seen him?”
“Possibly.”
“What the fuck?” Molly whispers. “When?”
“A few times, but Friday night was the last time I saw him.”
Aaron does a cross over his chest and pretends to pray. “Thank you, Jesus.”
“But don’t say anything,” I whisper. “It’s just very casual, nothing to get excited about yet.”
Molly’s eyes widen in exasperation. “Are you kidding me? Screwing Jameson Miles is something to get excited about, woman. Have you seen him?”
I smile broadly at their over-the-top reactions. “I’m just playing it cool, but I am going up there for a project with Tristan and not to see Jay.” That’s not lying—it is true . . . ish.
Aaron puts his hand over his chest. “Oh hell, she calls him Jay. Be still my beating heart.”
“Kill me now.” Molly sighs dreamily. “Have you been to his apartment?”
“Uh-huh, and he spent the night at mine.”
“Shh,” I whisper as I look at the people around us. “Keep it down, and you can’t tell a soul. Especially not Ava—you know what she’s like.”
“Oh God, can you imagine?” Molly rolls her eyes. “She’ll be your new bestie if she knows you are with him. She’ll be stuck to you like glue if there’s a chance she will get to his brothers.”
“Well, she can’t have Tristan.” I tut as I turn on my computer. “He’s way too nice for her.” I shrug. “He’s taken, anyway, I think.”
We begin to work, and Aaron’s phone rings. “It’s Paul,” he stammers in a panic.
“Decline,” I say without looking up.
“But I want to see what he has to say.” He picks up the phone, and Molly snatches it from him and hits decline.
“He says ‘fuck me on Grindr’ to the whole world. Will you stop being pathetic? Kick this asshole to the curb,” she snaps.
Aaron’s shoulders slump sadly.
I rub his back in sympathy. “It will get easier, babe.”
“Yeah, when we set fire to his sleazy ball sack,” Molly whispers angrily.
I giggle. “Set fire to his sleazy ball sack—you speak with such articulation, Moll.”
“I know, right? This is why I’m a reporter.” She stands. “I’m going to make us coffee. You both want one?”
“Uh-huh.”
Aaron blows out a deflated breath. “Can you find us some cake too? Surely it’s somebody’s birthday around here.”
Molly looks around. “Yep, where’s that Uber guy when we need him?” Her eyes come to me. “Oh my God, was that cheesecake last week sent from Jameson?”
I smile broadly.
Aaron puts his head down and pretends to hit it on the desk. “He even sends cheesecakes. The man is a for real fucking god.”
Buzz goes my door buzzer. “Hello.” I smile.
“Hello, Ms. Foster. This is Alan, Mr. Miles’s driver.”
My face falls. “Oh. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Mr. Miles asked me to collect you and take you to his apartment. He’s been delayed on a conference call and will be joining you shortly.”
“Oh, okay. I’m on my way.” I grab my overnight bag that I packed, and with one last look around my apartment, I head downstairs.
I walk out onto the curb to see the driver in his customary black suit standing next to the limo. “Hello,” I say nervously as I approach him.