The Stopover

by Swan, T L

  I stare at her, lost for words.

  “I’ve missed you too much, Jameson. I can’t live without you,” she whispers.

  My heart drops. “Claud, no . . .”

  Her eyes fill with tears. “You said it was distance.”

  Empathy fills me. I can’t stand seeing her upset, and I take her into my arms.

  “It’s not the distance anymore,” I murmur into her hair. The door opens, and Emily bounces in. Her face falls, and she stops on the spot when she sees Claudia in my arms.

  “Oh . . . I’m—”

  “Come in, Emily,” I say.

  Claudia pulls out of my arms, and her crazy eyes go to Emily.

  “Claudia, this is Emily . . . my girlfriend,” I introduce them.

  Emily’s eyes flick between us, and then she holds out her hand. “Hello, Claudia. Nice to meet you.” She smiles kindly.

  Claudia shakes her hand. “Hello.” She turns her attention back to me.

  Emily looks between us again. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper as my eyes stay fixed firmly on Claudia. I hate hurting her.

  “Goodbye,” Emily says. “Nice to meet you.”

  Claudia’s eyes fill with tears anew as the door quietly clicks closed. “Does she even know who I am?” she whispers.

  “Yes.”

  “And she found me in your arms and is happy to leave you here with me?” she mutters sarcastically.

  My eyes hold hers, annoyed that she thinks Emily has reason to be insecure. “She knows where my heart lies.”

  Claudia’s eyes fill with tears, and I internally kick myself for being an ass. “I’m coming home to New York, Jameson. We can get back together.”

  “No, we can’t.”

  Her eyes search mine.

  “I’m marrying her, Claud.”

  “Don’t say that,” she whispers. “She’s just easy for you because she’s no challenge.”

  “You’re wrong; she’s the love of my life.”

  She clenches her jaw in anger. “You bastard.”

  “I’m sorry.” I step back from her. “But there’s no other way to put it.”

  Her anger erupts. “So . . . what happens when I see you out?” she snaps.

  “You say hello.”

  “Do you think you can replace me so easily?” she stammers.

  I stare at her, sad that she’s hurting.

  “I love you, Jameson. Come back to me,” she pleads as she takes my hand in hers.

  “You need to go, Claud.”

  “You’re kicking me out?” she shrieks.

  “No. I’m asking you to leave.”

  “That’s the same thing.”

  I exhale heavily; this isn’t going to end well. I need to end it before an all-out war begins. I kiss her on the forehead and walk to the door and open it. “Goodbye, Claudia.”

  She angrily swipes the tears from her eyes and storms past me. I close the door and stare at the carpet for a moment as I feel the tectonic plates move another notch closer to goal. I go back to my desk and dial Emily’s number.

  “Hi,” she answers.

  “Hi.”

  “I came up to see if you wanted to go out to lunch today.”

  I smile softly. I love this woman—not an inch of insecurity.

  “I do. Meet you in the foyer at one.”

  Emily

  It’s just around three in the afternoon.

  I turn to Aaron. “Wish that damn cheesecake Uber would show up about now.”

  “Ha, right?” he mutters.

  “I’ll go make the coffees.” I stand and make my way to the kitchen. I make Aaron’s and then Molly’s, and then as I’m making mine, Jake walks into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Emily.”

  “Oh, hi.” I stir the coffee.

  “Holy shit, get ready for a media storm tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  He looks around and leans in as if not wanting anyone to hear what he has to say. “You should see what Ferrara is putting to print tomorrow.”

  “What?” I frown.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” he whispers.

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “They have new dirt on Jameson Miles. The shit is about to hit the fan.”

  My eyes widen. “What? How do you know?”

  “Our insider in their office has just called it through.”

  “What is it?”

  He looks around. “Apparently—”

  Someone else walks into the kitchen, and we both step back from each other guiltily. The guy begins to make idle chitchat with Jake, and if I wait around, it will be too obvious that I am waiting to talk to him alone. Shit, I’ll come back in a minute.

  I make my way back to my desk with my heart in my throat. What dirt do they have on Jay?

  Oh hell, I need to find out what it is.

  I keep an eye on the kitchen, and as soon as I see Jake go back to his desk, I make my way over to him, and his eyes light up when he sees me. “Hi.”

  “Meet me in the photocopy room, please?” I whisper.

  “Sure.”

  I walk in and wait, and moments later he follows me in.

  “What the hell is going on?” I whisper.

  “I can’t tell you here; it’s too risky,” he says as he looks around.

  “Just tell me,” I almost beg.

  “Meet me after work, and I’ll tell you everything over a quick drink.”

  I stare at him. “What time?”

  “Six thirty?”

  I think for a moment. That would still give me time to go to Tristan if I need to. “Just tell me now.”

  “No way. I’ll tell you it all tonight; it’s too in depth.”

  Damn it, I don’t want to meet this idiot, but if I don’t, how would I know what Ferrara is up to? If I find out, then maybe we can get an injunction and stop the story from going to print.

  “Okay, fine. Where?”

  “Harry’s Bar, six thirty.”

  “Okay, see you there.”

  I go back to my desk and look around guiltily. My heart rate is going through the roof. What dirt do they have on Jameson?

  Oh no, my poor man.

  Molly and Aaron are both not at their desks, and I know I have to ring Jay and let him know I’m going to be late when they can’t hear me lie and use them as my alibi.

  I nervously dial his number.

  “Hi,” his sexy voice purrs down the phone.

  “Hi.” I begin to break into a sweat as I prepare to lie. “I’m going to go out to dinner with Molly and Aaron tonight.” I screw up my face. “Aaron is a bit down, and we’re going to try and cheer him up.”

  “Oh.” He seems surprised.

  “Is that okay?” I reply nervously.

  “Of course it is.”

  “I’ll come over as soon as I finish, and it won’t be late.”

  “Okay, babe.”

  “What will you eat?” I frown. I hate that I won’t be cooking for him. Looking after Jameson has become my favorite thing.

  “I’ll find something; don’t worry about me.”

  “Oh, okay.” I fall silent, feeling guilty.

  As if sensing my inner turmoil, he asks, “Is everything all right, Emily?”

  “Yes, of course. I love you. See you tonight.” I hang up in a rush before I confess my lie.

  Six thirty on the dot I walk into Harry’s Bar. I’ve been here before with Aaron and Molly, so I know where it is.

  Jake is in the back corner, and he waves happily when he sees me.

  I smile awkwardly and make my way over to the table. A glass of wine sits there waiting for me.

  “Hi.” I sit down opposite him.

  “Hi. You look beautiful.” He smiles as he looks me up and down. I frown. I went home and showered and changed quickly. I hope he doesn’t think it was for him. I changed for Jay for when I see him later.

  “You ordered me a drink?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He smil
es warmly. “I hope you like it—cab sav.”

  “Thanks.” I sip it. “What’s the story about Jameson?”

  He opens the menu. “Should we get something to eat?”

  “I’m really not hungry,” I reply. I just want to get the information and get the hell out of here.

  He keeps reading the menu. “I might get some wedges.”

  “Tell me what you know,” I ask again.

  “Well, it’s a tangled web.”

  I sip my wine as I watch him. I’m so nervous about what he’s about to tell me that I feel sick.

  “Apparently there is a huge story coming out tomorrow.”

  I sip my wine. “About?”

  “Well . . .” He pauses. “I think I’m going to get the wedges; do you want wedges?”

  “Fine, get the wedges,” I snap.

  He keeps looking at the menu, and I’m about to explode. Pick some food, you damn fool. “I’ll get the wedges,” I say as I stand in a rush. “Is that it? Is that all you want?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I march to the counter. “Can I have a bowl of wedges and a trio of dipping sauces, please?”

  I exhale heavily as I try to calm myself down. Just be calm.

  “Emily.” I hear a voice behind me.

  “Is that all?” the waiter asks me.

  “Yes, please.” I smile as I turn back toward the voice that just called me.

  Jake grabs my hand and kisses me on the lips.

  I step back, shocked. “What are you doing?”

  “Kissing you.” He smiles as he leans in to kiss me again.

  I jump back and out of his reach. “What the hell, Jake? I don’t like you like that,” I snap as I wipe my mouth.

  “I thought that since we were on a date . . .”

  “What?” I stammer, horrified. “I came here to find out about Jameson.”

  He smiles a broad, cheeky smile and then winks.

  I glare at him. “There’s no breaking story, is there?”

  He shrugs. “We could make the story about the wild night we spend together.”

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” I snap. “I am not interested in you.”

  “Oh, but you should be.” He grabs my hand again, and I push him hard in the chest.

  “Stop it.”

  “That will be twenty-two dollars,” the poor waiter says as he looks between us.

  “I’m not paying for this imbecile’s wedges,” I snap. “Goodbye, Jake,” I say as I storm toward the door.

  “Emily . . . come on. We would be great together,” he calls.

  I stumble out of the bar, furious, as steam shoots from my ears. I’ve been stressed out all day, and for what?

  Stupid Jake’s lie to get me on my own.

  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 timi
ng 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.

  I feel a surge of adrenaline rush throughout my body as my skin prickles.

  “What’s happened?” I ask. I can hear my angry heartbeat in my ears.

  “We’re not sure. Huge bank transfers have been coming out of the accounts, and nobody noticed,” Christopher replies.

  “Going to where?” I frown.

  “An offshore account.”

  “How the fuck am I implicated in all of this?” I glance back down at the image of Emily kissing Jake, and I want to kill somebody . . . Gabriel Ferrara. “I don’t understand.” I drag my eyes to my brother to try and focus on the facts.