The Stopover Page 13

  “Do you sleep with your masseuse?”

  His eyes come to mine. “That is none of your business. Now get out.”

  Chapter 9

  I storm out of his office and down the hall, and I fall into the ladies’ room. I burst into the stall, sit down, and put my head into my hands.

  Embarrassment fills me. I just completely lost control and made a fool of myself. You stupid fucking idiot.

  My heartbeat sounds through my body, and I’m so angry right now that I can’t even see straight. His words come back to me: But you fucked that up this morning when you left like a two-year-old.

  God.

  Angry tears stream down my face, and I wipe them away as quickly as they appear.

  Stop crying, you baby. I’m not even upset—I’m angry. Now I have to get off this floor without anyone seeing me.

  Why am I fucking crying?

  I know why. Because I’m sleep deprived, and I deserve to be treated better, that’s why. The fucking asshole. Who the hell does he think he is?

  The longer I’m in here, the worse it is. I wash my face, dry my eyes, and drop my shoulders as I steel myself to walk past reception.

  I’m fine, fine . . . totally fine. Jameson Miles does not have the power to affect me at all. I open the bathroom door and walk out, and Tristan comes around the corner. His face falls when he sees me. “Emily?” He frowns. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course.” I storm past him.

  “He’s had a bad day,” he calls after me, and my eyes fill with tears anew.

  Yeah, well . . . so have I.

  “Where have you been?” Molly asks on my arrival back to my desk.

  “I went and saw Ricardo,” I lie.

  “So where do you want to go tonight?”

  “Oh.” I wince. I can’t think of anything worse. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m going to bail. I need to sleep.”

  “But we want to hear all the juicy details.”

  “Oh.” My heart sinks. I don’t want them to know that I’m the world’s biggest loser. “We didn’t meet up last night. He pulled out.”

  “What?” Aaron frowns.

  “Whatever. I don’t care.” I shrug, acting casual. I wish I hadn’t told them anything at all about him now.

  “Yeah, that’s okay. I need to save money anyway.” Aaron sighs as he packs up his computer.

  “You coming?” Molly asks.

  “I’m just going to finish this up.” I open my computer back up. The last thing I want to do is give the bastard a reason to fire me. I finish my task, and finally, an hour later, I close my computer and head downstairs.

  I walk through the front doors and glance up to see the black limo parked at the curb.

  Shit.

  I look around nervously. Is he in there? Damn it, I don’t want to see him. I power walk across the street to the safe haven of the café. I order a drink and take a seat at the window.

  Great. I drag my hand down my face. Seriously, what next? This is the last thing I need.

  “Here you go.” The waiter smiles as he puts my iced tea down in front of me.

  “Thank you.” I watch the driver across the road as he leans on the limo, and I think back to the other night when I was on my knees, and he tried to open the door, and it was locked. I wonder how long he’s worked for him, how much he’s seen. I watch as he answers the phone and then gets in the car and drives off.

  Huh? Was Jameson already inside the car? Why did he drive off?

  That’s weird . . .

  The front doors of the building open, and a group of men walk out. Shit, it’s them. I pick up the menu and cover my face as I peer through the window and across the street.

  Tristan, Elliot, Christopher, and Jameson . . . and the blonde girl who was with Tristan the other night. She’s super trendy, and her work clothes look like they belong in a modeling shoot. The boys look so similar. Elliot is the most like Jameson, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Then Tristan and Christopher look alike, lighter hair with a curl. They’re talking as they walk, and Jameson says something with a straight face, and they all laugh out loud.

  What did he say?

  They walk around the corner. Elliot puts his hand affectionately on Jameson’s back as they cross the road while deep in conversation. I watch them walk up the street and then into a cocktail bar.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes with a huge sad sigh.

  Ugh, I just want this day to be over.

  It’s amazing what a weekend and some sleep can do for a girl. I march into the building on Monday like the most powerful woman on earth. “Good morning.” The security guard smiles as I walk through the security screen.

  “Morning.” I smile. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is.” He winks as I walk past him.

  To hell with Jameson Miles.

  So what? We had sex. So what? It was great. But guess what? I don’t care.

  I’m not letting him dull my New York shine. I moved here to start a new and exciting life, and to be honest, the first three weeks have been pretty amazing . . . well, except last week. But I’m scratching that from the record, so it doesn’t actually count.

  I’m moving onward and upward, and twelve months from now I’ll probably look back at this and laugh.

  I make it to my floor to find Ava and her friend Renee talking by the elevator. “Hi, girls.”

  “Hi.” Ava smiles. “How are you?”

  “Good. Great, actually. What are you guys up to?”

  “We’re discussing where we want to go this weekend.”

  “Oh.”

  “Hey, you should come clubbing with us,” she offers.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, for sure. We have a blast.”

  “You know what? I’d love to.” I smile.

  “Awesome.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and puts my number in. “We usually meet up about eight or nine on Saturday night.”

  “For dinner first?” I ask.

  “No.” She smirks. “We eat mac and cheese before we go out and then buy hella expensive drinks. Priorities.”

  I laugh. “Okay, sounds good.”

  I make my way to my desk and find Aaron already working. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He says sadly.

  “What’s wrong?” I frown as I take my seat.

  “I got stood up again last night.” He sighs. “I’m just getting sick of this, you know?”

  “Have you talked to him?” I ask.

  “No, he’s always working or got things going on or a legitimate excuse. Maybe I’m looking for problems that aren’t there.”

  “Maybe,” I reply. “Anyway, you’ll be glad to know that I’m in a much better mood today.”

  “Really?” He smirks. “What’s your secret?”

  “Sleep,” I reply. “And I’m even going to start going to the gym on level three next week. Want to come with me?”

  “Maybe.” He thinks about it.

  “We could become superhot fitness freaks.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, okay. Are you high?”

  “I had such a shitty day on Friday, and I’m determined to change my mind-set.”

  “Good for you.”

  Molly arrives and puts her bag onto the desk with a bang. “Anybody want a kid?”

  I giggle. “What now?”

  “Ugh.” She flops into her chair. “So you know how Brad got caught messaging that girl. I took his phone from him because his father wouldn’t do it,” she snaps.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he was angry, but he wasn’t that pissed off, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he wasn’t hassling me for his phone back all the time like normal, and he wanted to go to bed really early last night.”

  I frown as I listen.

  “I felt like something was off, so I checked the hiding spot to see if his phone was still there, and it was. Then I had this strange thought to check
the SIM.”

  Aaron chuckles, already knowing where this story is going.

  “The little shit had taken the SIM out and put it into an old phone.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “I barge into his bedroom, and sure enough, he is on his phone, and it is hidden under the covers. I snatch it off him and lock myself in the bathroom while I go through it. He’s banging the door down, so I know there is something on there that he doesn’t want me to see.”

  My eyes widen as I listen.

  “Get this,” she sneers. “Pure little Chanel has been sending him nudes too.”

  I frown.

  “This fifteen-year-old little girl is built like a fucking Penthouse Pet.”

  We chuckle.

  “Oh, it gets worse,” she continues. “While I’m looking through his phone, a new message comes through from her.”

  “What was it?”

  “I got a Brazilian like you wanted. You like?”

  My mouth falls open.

  “Can you believe that message?”

  Unable to help it, I burst out laughing.

  “I would find this funny, too, if it weren’t my child,” she whispers as she sits down at her desk.

  “Then Brad had a complete meltdown and told me that if I call Chanel’s parents, I’m effectively committing social suicide for him as his whole reputation will be ruined and that he’s never going to school again.” She hits her computer keyboard with a hard bang.

  “That’s true,” Aaron replies. “You can’t call her mother.”

  “So it’s all right for her to call me, but I can’t call her?” she stammers.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I probably wouldn’t call her mother either.”

  “Well, what would you do?” she asks.

  “I’d buy him a box of condoms, that’s what I’d do.”

  She stares at me, wide eyed.

  “Because imagine if he got her pregnant,” I add.

  “Oh my God.” She drags her hand down her face. “I can’t deal with boys. They are so stupid.”

  “The amount of testosterone in a male teenager is ridiculous,” Aaron replies casually. “I was jerking off four times a day when I was fifteen.”

  Molly and I wince.

  “Four times a day?” I stammer.

  “Don’t girls do that?” He frowns in surprise.

  “No,” we both gasp.

  “Men are gross.” I fake a shiver in disgust.

  The phone on my desk rings. “Hello,” I answer.

  “Hello, Emily, this is Sammia, Mr. Miles’s PA.”

  What does she want? “Hi.”

  “Mr. Miles asked me to let you know that you have a meeting in his office in an hour.”

  “I’m very busy today. Can you tell Mr. Miles that, unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it?”

  “He told me that your attendance is mandatory, and he’s already spoken to your manager to get clearance.”

  I roll my eyes. Stupid twat. “Fine. I’ll be there. Thank you.”

  Knock, knock. I tentatively knock on Jameson’s door.

  “Come in,” his strong voice calls.

  My stomach flips with nerves, and I open the door. Jameson sits alone at his desk. His eyes rise to meet mine.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, please take a seat.”

  I drop to the chair as I clasp my hands together with white-knuckle force.

  His eyes hold mine. “How are you?”

  “Good, thanks.” I drop my eyes to the desk. I’m not looking at those beautiful blue eyes. He’s like the snake from The Jungle Book—one look in those hypnotic suckers, and your panties drop to the floor.

  “Look at me, please,” he commands.

  “What do you want, Jameson?” I snap. “I don’t have time for your games.”

  “I want you to look at me.”

  I drag my eyes to his.

  “Why don’t you want to look at me?”

  I stare at him for a moment. “Because I just find your face really . . . punchable.”

  He smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly amused. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, it is.” I look around his office. “Can we talk about work?”

  “Later. Right now I would like to talk about your tantrum on Friday.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “She’s my masseuse.”

  “Like you said, it’s none of my business.” I glare at him, my resting bitch face in full swing.

  “I was going to call you last night.”

  Now it’s my turn to be amused. “Don’t waste your time. I wouldn’t have answered.”

  He runs his thumbnail back and forth over his bottom lip as he watches me, as if fascinated. “Why are you so snarky?”

  “I’m not snarky. I’m just not about to put up with shit from an entitled asshole. You may be a CEO here, but . . .”

  He sits back and raises his chin as if angered. “Finish what you wanted to say.”

  “No. I’m good.” I clench my teeth together to stop myself from elaborating.

  “I may be the CEO here . . . but what?” he demands as he swivels on his chair.

  “I wasn’t angry with you on Friday. I left in the middle of the night because I was confused . . . about a lot of things. I was going to talk to you when I was thinking clearly because I didn’t want to be a drama queen.”

  Our eyes are locked.

  “And then I came to your office, and you treated me like a two-bit whore that you ejaculated in the night before.”

  He clenches his jaw.

  “I’m nobody’s whore, Jameson, least of all yours. No job is worth my self-respect.”

  The air crackles between us.

  “So excuse me if the privilege of sucking your golden CEO dick doesn’t excite me any longer.”

  He rubs his thumbnail back and forth over his bottom lip as his eyes hold mine.

  “Were you on the debating team, Ms. Foster?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I snap, annoyed.

  “You make a good argument.” He licks his bottom lip as he tries to hide his amusement. “Impressive.”

  I roll my eyes. Sarcastic asshole. God, he infuriates me so bad. I get an image of myself diving over the desk and punching him in the nose as hard as I can. It would wipe that smug smirk off his stupid face. I’m not even joking; his face really is punchable.

  “Please,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Please what?”

  “Please stop insulting my intelligence. Run your meeting so I can get back to work. You’re wasting my time.”

  Knock, knock.

  “Come in,” Jameson calls.

  Tristan puts his head around the door and looks between us. “Are we on?”

  I get the feeling that Jameson told them to give us ten minutes alone before they joined us. “Yes, come in,” he replies coolly as he rearranges some papers on his desk.

  They all pile into the office, and I straighten in my chair. These four men together are an extreme sucker punch. Gorgeous overload.

  “Hello.” Tristan smiles. “Emily, this is Elliot and Christopher, our brothers.” I stand and shake both of their hands.

  “Hello.” Elliot and Christopher smile.

  “Hi.”

  “Please be seated,” Jameson commands. “Tristan, you can do the honors, please.”

  “Okay. So as per our meeting on Friday, we have recruited a private corporate investigator to work on your floor and get to the bottom of this mess.”

  “Okay.” I look between them.

  “What we want you to do is keep sending in bogus stories.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  “Because if there are a lot of stories going through that are bogus, it will be easier for us to trace.”

  I sit back in my seat, annoyed.

  “And as you can see—” Tristan continues.

  Jameson holds his hand up. “Stop there.” He turns his attent
ion to me. “What is it, Emily?”

  I stare at him.

  “What did you want to say, then?”

  My eyes flick between the four men. “With all due respect, Mr. Miles, I didn’t apply for my dream job to do bogus stories.”

  “Fair point,” he snaps as he rubs his thumb over his fingertips.

  “What’s going to happen when this is all over?” I ask.

  “You will return to your normal duties.”

  “I would like that in writing, please,” I snap.

  Elliot smirks and drops his head.

  Jameson’s eyes hold mine. “Very well.” He turns his attention back to Tristan. “Please continue.”

  “The investigator will be starting next week on Monday, and Emily, we would like you to be his eyes on the floor.”

  I frown. “I don’t really want to get involved in all this.”

  “You involved yourself the moment you stepped through my office door,” Jameson replies.

  I drop my head. God.

  “Emily, if you could give us a few bogus stories to start with next Monday, that would be great.”

  “Okay, what would you like me to write about?”

  Jameson’s eyes meet mine. “The first story I would like to be about a fake prostitution racket.”

  I frown in question.

  “Call the ringleader a two-bit whore.”

  The fucking nerve of this man. “Okay.” I smile sweetly. “I have enough material to work with on that one.”

  “Good.” Tristan smiles. “Work on those stories, and we will touch base next Monday afternoon.”

  “Yes, okay,” I reply as I stand and walk toward the door. “Sounds good.”

  “Emily, I’d like to see you for a moment, please,” Jameson replies calmly.

  I stop on the spot. Seriously?

  The boys file out of the office. “Bye, Emily,” they call.

  “Bye.”

  The door closes behind them, and Jameson stands and walks up behind me.

  I can feel the heat from his body. The power he emanates is like nothing I’ve ever felt.

  He takes my ponytail in his hand and wraps it around his knuckles three times and pulls my head to the side to give him access to my neck. In slow motion, he licks from my collarbone to my jaw with his thick, strong tongue. His lips go to my ear. “I didn’t get to taste you yet.”

  I close my eyes as arousal runs through my blood like a river rapid. Goose bumps scatter up my spine.