The Stopover

by Swan, T L

  “Fuck,” Tristan mutters under his breath.

  Our table stays silent as we watch Gabriel Ferrara take the stage to accept the award. He holds it up in the air, and the people in the crowd all laugh and cheer, and he takes the microphone.

  “Thank you.” He looks around the room. “It means a lot. Commiserations to Miles Media, who have won this award consecutively for the last sixteen years.” He blows a cheeky kiss to Jameson and then waves down to our table.

  Jameson glares at him. His tongue runs across his teeth as sheer contempt drips from his every pore.

  “I think it is safe to say”—Gabriel smiles sarcastically—“that in the last twelve months we have led the market with our cutting-edge news delivery.” He holds up his finger. “We are now the number one media empire in the world.”

  The crowd claps and cheers.

  He holds the trophy in the air.

  The Ferrara table goes wild.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” I scoff, unable to help it.

  The Miles family glares at Gabriel as he stands on stage . . . and I can feel their anger because I have it too. I can feel it growing inside me like a pulsing disease.

  It’s one thing to lose your crown, but to have it taken by a thief who’s stealing your work is a completely different ball game.

  Gabriel bows and then takes a seat back at his table. He kisses the trophy as the photographers snap away. This win will be headlining tomorrow’s news stories across the country.

  Fury and silence sweep around our table. Nobody says a word.

  I stare at him across the room and want to wipe that sleazy smile off his gorgeous face.

  And I will.

  Prepare yourself, Mr. Gabriel Ferrara. I’m taking you down.

  I gasp for breath as I watch Jameson lap me in Central Park. It’s six o’clock, and the sun is just rising. He’s running particularly fast today . . . and I’m letting him.

  I get it now; his responsibility is not something he can just switch off at the end of the day. I feel it for him too now. Last night, however infuriating it was, taught me a valuable lesson on his competitors.

  They have no morals and no fear, and that makes them very dangerous players indeed.

  Jameson turns and sprints back to me. He’s always careful he keeps me in his sight.

  He was quiet when we came home last night, deep in thought. We had a shower and made love, and then he finally relaxed a little. I made us a snack, and we lay on the couch in each other’s arms and watched a movie for a while. We went to bed late, but we needed the time together to wind down.

  Neither of us brought up the award ceremony. We didn’t speak of it at all—there’s nothing to say.

  It is what it is. No amount of conversation can take away the fact that Ferrara Media has been rewarded for being deceitful. It’s eating me alive; I can only imagine what it’s doing to Jameson.

  He comes to a stop in front of me, panting heavily. “You’re especially slow this morning,” he teases.

  “You’re especially fast today. That ax must be big.”

  He chuckles as he leans in to kiss me. “Fucking huge.” We turn and begin the slow jog back home. “I’ll organize Alan for the weekend to get your things?” he says as he runs.

  “About that . . .”

  “Yes?” he pants, still exhausted from his sprinting.

  “I have a proposal for you.”

  He stops running. “Such as?”

  I turn and take his hands in mine. “I’ll move in with you on one condition.”

  “What?” He stares at me as if already annoyed by my bartering.

  “I’ll move in with you if we can get out of New York on the weekends.”

  “What?”

  “Well, not every weekend.” I shrug. “But enough that we can relax.”

  “New York is my home. I am relaxed. What are you talking about, woman?”

  I smile and start jogging again.

  He catches up with me. “What?”

  “It’s impossible to relax here, Jay. This city is hectic. The energy of this place could be seen from space. Sirens sound all night, cars and traffic and millions of people all buzzing at a million miles an hour.”

  He watches me as he listens.

  “We don’t have to go far out of the city. I’ve already booked a surprise trip away for us this weekend.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since yesterday.” I’m totally lying through my teeth here, but whatever. “Think about it. We live in your apartment through the week and work hard. Then on the weekends, we completely switch off. No phones, no internet. Just us.”

  “What?” He frowns. “That’s impossible. I need to be online at all times, Emily.”

  “No,” I pant as we run. “What you need is to recharge so that you can be the best CEO you can be. A tired, stressed-out version of you won’t be half as switched on.”

  We run until we hit the street, and then we look both ways as we wait to cross.

  “And besides,” I pant, “this way I get the best of both worlds.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m utterly in love with my Jim, the man I met on the plane.”

  He listens.

  “And I’m learning to love the stressed-out CEO who takes over his body sometimes.”

  Jameson smiles as he runs, finally putting the pieces together.

  “This way . . .” I pant. God, why do I insist on talking as I run? “This way I get to spend time with both of my men.”

  He grabs my hand and pulls me back to him; his lips take mine as he clutches my face in his hands. His tongue swipes through my lips, and his kiss is electric with just the right amount of suction. We kiss again and again, and my hands go to his hips. What must we look like, making out on the street corner?

  My eyes search his. “Do we have a deal?” I whisper. “Am I moving in?”

  He trails his fingers down my face. “I guess we can come to some kind of weekend arrangement.”

  I smile.

  “Only because both of your men love to fuck you.” He grabs my hips and bounces them off his.

  I giggle against his lips as he holds my head to his. “You’re a sex maniac, Miles,” I whisper.

  He grabs my behind once more, and a car horn sounds. “Get a room,” a man calls.

  We both laugh and begin to run across the street. I smile over at him as we run.

  “What?” He smirks.

  “Nothing.” I slap his behind. “Race you home.” I take off.

  “I could beat you with my legs tied.” He laughs from behind. “In fact, if I beat you, I am tying you up.”

  “Not if I tie you up first,” I call as I sprint. I giggle as I hear his footsteps behind me. Now there’s an incentive to run fast.

  Knock, knock. I tap on Tristan’s door.

  “Come in,” his deep voice calls.

  I peek around the door. Tristan is sitting at his desk. “Come in, Em.” He smiles.

  Em.

  I smile and take a seat at his desk. I’ve decided that I’m keeping Tristan completely up to date . . . with everything. He loves Jameson, and he will decipher what Jay needs to know and what he doesn’t.

  His eyes hold mine with a tender glow. “You were a hit with our parents last night.”

  I smile. “Really?”

  “My mother was gushing about you this morning.” He smiles as he holds his pen in his hand and swivels on his chair.

  “I just wanted to keep you updated on a few things.”

  He frowns. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to keep my relationship with Jameson completely unrelated to work. I feel he needs a break from it.”

  “I agree. He does.”

  “So, therefore, there are a few things that I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “Great. Fire away.”

  “Well, you know how we’ve been suspicious of Hayden?”

  “Yes.” He frowns.

  “I found
out from Molly—and this is just rumors—that Hayden was fired from the Gazette for a phone-tapping scandal.”

  He sits forward in his seat. “Like what?”

  “Apparently—and honestly, I have no idea if this is true, but Molly said it was what circulated at the time—he was tapping Keely May’s phone and stealing her stories.”

  “What?” he snaps. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No.”

  He smiles broadly. “This is excellent. This gives me enough ammunition.”

  “To do what?”

  “To get a search on his computers. We haven’t tapped him yet.”

  I smile proudly. “Hopefully this will help us.”

  “Good work, Em.” He swivels on his chair and makes a note.

  I watch him for a moment. “There was also something else.”

  His eyes rise.

  “I haven’t said anything to Jameson, but Gabriel Ferrara made a pass at me last night.”

  His face falls. “He did what?” he snaps.

  “Don’t get excited,” I stammer.

  “What did he say?”

  I frown as I think back. “I was at the bar, and he asked me who I was. I thought he was just being nice, and I replied Emily.”

  Tristan frowns as he listens.

  “Then he picked up my hand and kissed the back of it and said, ‘My name is Gabriel Ferrara, and I like to take over all things owned by Jameson Miles.’”

  Tristan’s eyes widen.

  “Then he said, ‘Women included.’”

  “What the fuck?” Tristan snaps. “Are you fucking serious?” He stands in a rush.

  “But I don’t know if I read it the wrong way or . . . ,” I stammer. “I don’t want to be making more of this than it is, but I felt that it was really quite off.”

  Tristan’s eyes blaze with anger. “What did you say?”

  “I told him he was insulting my intelligence and to go away.” I curl my lip in disgust. “He makes my skin crawl.”

  “Fucking hell.” Tristan sighs as he turns and puts his hands into his suit pockets and stares out the window, deep in thought.

  “I didn’t say anything to Jameson because I feel like that’s exactly what Gabriel wanted me to do.”

  Tristan’s jaw ticks in anger. “He wants to start a war.”

  “That’s what it felt like . . . there could be no other explanation,” I whisper.

  “He’s trying to rattle him by attacking him on a personal basis.”

  “Yes.” I sigh as my heart bleeds for my Jay. “I worried about whether I should say anything to you all night.”

  Tristan’s eyes come to me. “Don’t tell Jameson.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s keep this between us.”

  I exhale heavily.

  “I’m concerned about Jameson,” he says. “He’s about to fucking crack.”

  “I know; I’m going to try to get him out of the city for the weekends and get him offline. I’m doing all I can to keep him calm.”

  “Good idea.” He nods, still deep in thought. “If you had told him about Gabriel, he would be over there strangling the fucker right now.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know.”

  “You did the right thing.” He smiles. “Thank you for telling me.”

  My eyes hold his. “I hate not telling Jameson, but I feel like I need to protect him from this. Gabriel is just trying to rattle him.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he agrees. “Thanks, I’ll get on this now. Can you do me a favor and try to find out as much about Hayden’s personal life as you can? Where he hangs out, partner, that kind of thing.”

  “Okay, I’m on it.” I stand and leave his office and walk over to Jameson’s office, and I knock on the door.

  “Come in,” his deep, velvety voice calls.

  I open the door to see my beautiful man sitting behind his desk. He smiles warmly when he sees me and pats his lap.

  I lock the door and sit on his lap and take his lips with mine. “Hello, boss.”

  He runs his hand up my thigh. His mouth goes to my neck, and I smile, and then I see it.

  A half-empty glass of scotch sitting on his desk. I glance at my watch.

  “It’s eleven o’clock, Jameson.”

  He rolls his eyes and pushes me off his lap. “I needed something to take the edge off. Don’t fucking start, Emily.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he snaps as he turns back to his desk.

  “Three days until our weekend away,” I whisper.

  His phone rings, and he glances at the screen. “Can’t come soon enough. I have to take this. See you tonight.”

  I kiss him softly, and then he answers the call. His voice instantly turns to the authoritative tone he uses with everyone else.

  I stand at the door and watch him as he listens. He mindlessly picks up the scotch and sips it before he talks.

  My heart drops.

  Many a stressed-out CEO has been found in the bottom of a Blue Label scotch bottle.

  Please, not mine . . .

  I look around guiltily and then back down to my phone, and I put into the search bar “budget weekends away.”

  “God,” I sigh. “Where can I take him?”

  “Are you still going on about that?” Aaron asks.

  Molly slides her chair to look over my shoulder.

  “I want to take him somewhere that money can’t buy.” I twist my lips as I think. “It has to be something really special.”

  Aaron chuckles. “Your special and Jameson Miles’s special may be a little different.”

  “The thing is, when he’s at my apartment, he detaches from who he is. I want him to realize that we don’t need to live in a swanky apartment to be happy.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.” Molly sighs. “What I wouldn’t give to live in his swanky apartment. Anybody would be happy as a pig in mud there. When are you inviting us over, bitch?”

  “Right?” Aaron laughs.

  “Hmm.” I narrow my eyes as I think.

  “What about camping?” Molly says.

  My eyes flick to her. “Oh, but we don’t have a tent or anything, and I won’t have time to buy it.”

  “I’ve got it all. You can borrow ours. Michael and the kids go camping all the time.”

  I stare at her for a moment. “Do you reckon he’s ever gone camping before?”

  “Umm . . . that would be a definite no.” Aaron widens his eyes to accentuate his point. “Nobody goes camping of their own free will.”

  Excitement fills me. “Really? Could we borrow your things? You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Take it. Michael and the kids are going to Dallas on Friday to see his parents for a week. They won’t be using it.”

  “Maybe.” I smile as the idea takes shape in my head. “But the car,” I say, thinking out loud.

  “Take Michael’s pickup truck, Bessie. Give him the full Swamp People experience.”

  “Really?” I smirk as I imagine Jameson in a pickup.

  “Yeah, it’s a total piece of shit, but it’s reliable.”

  Aaron shakes his head in disgust. “Are you trying to scare him away on purpose?”

  “No, I’m trying to bring him back to earth.” I smile as excitement sweeps through me.

  “He’ll land with a thud; that’s for sure.” Aaron smirks.

  I laugh as I begin to google campgrounds. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  On Friday afternoon, I drive into the underground parking lot of Jameson’s building with a huge smile on my face. I’ve laughed all the way here from Molly’s house. I’ve called Jay and told him to be waiting near the door for me to collect him.

  I drive around the corner, and I see him standing there waiting with Alan and our bags. He sees me, and his face drops.

  I honk the horn and bounce in the seat and pull Bessie the pickup truck up beside him.

  His face horri
fied, he comes to me, and I roll down the window. “Going my way?” I ask.

  “What the fuck is this?” he gasps.

  “This is Bessie.” I smile proudly.

  Alan puts his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud.

  “What?” Jameson frowns as he looks at the huge, beat-up light-blue truck. His eyes come back to me.

  “Get in, Miles.” I smile and wiggle my eyebrows. “I’m taking you camping.”

  Chapter 19

  He stares at me, lost for words.

  Alan drops his head as his chuckle breaks through.

  Jameson stares at me . . . horrified.

  I laugh out loud at the look on his face. I put the pickup into park and jump out and start throwing our bags into the back.

  “You can’t be serious,” Jameson stammers.

  “Deadly.”

  His eyes scan the beat-up old truck. “This car isn’t even roadworthy.”

  “It’s not a car—it’s a truck.” I smile as I slam the back shut. “Her name is Bessie.”

  Jameson puts his hands on his hips. His eyes glance to Alan, who is laughing out loud.

  “This isn’t fucking funny, Alan,” he snaps. “I don’t camp, Emily. Surely you would know this. What on God’s earth would make you think of this cockamamie idea? This is not relaxing me in the slightest. I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing by the second.”

  Alan drops his head and really begins to laugh. “Forgive me, boss man, but this is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Can I take a photo for Tris?” he asks.

  “Absolutely not,” Jameson huffs. “Shut up, or I’ll make you come with us.”

  Alan bites his bottom lip to stop the giggles.

  “Why would we need to take this . . .” He pauses as he finds the right word. “Hunk of junk?”

  “Because we’re going off the grid.”

  “Emily Foster, this isn’t off the grid. This is a recipe for instantaneous death.”

  I slump in the seat and pull a whiny face. “You promised. It’s three days, Jameson, and then I’ll come back and move in.”

  He puts his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes, and he knows I’ve got him. He did promise.

  I toot the horn, and he comes around to the driver’s side and opens the door.

  “What are you doing?” I frown.

  “Driving.”

  “Do you know how to drive a column shift?”

  “A what?” He frowns.