Miles Ever After (Miles High Series)(3)

“It’s time to unplug for a little while. Do you really think that I can’t feel what’s going on inside of you at the moment?”

His eyes hold mine.

“The deadlines and spreadsheets, the directors…all of it means nothing if you have no quality of life.” I kiss him softly and brush the hair back from his forehead, “You have an extremely high-pressured job and it’s only natural that you get wound up. But you need to learn how to switch off. You are not at your best when you are like this, not to me, or Miles Media, or your brothers and parents. Least of all to yourself.”

His hands tighten around me as he listens.

“Wouldn’t it be great to come into work each morning feeling refreshed and rested? To not have your mind racing between the million tabs that are open.”

He exhales heavily, and I know that he knows that I’m right.

“We’re going home.” I pull him up by the hand and straighten the desk up. I collect his things and put his briefcase over my shoulder. I lead him out through reception and the girls look up when they see us.

“I’m leaving for the day,” he tells Sammia.

“Yes, okay.” She smiles. “Good idea.”

“And he’s taking some time off, I just have to work out with Tristan when he can come and cover for him,” I add.

“We’ll see about that.” Jameson rolls his eyes. “I’m being hijacked, Sammia, do you see this?”

Sammia smiles and we walk into the elevator, the doors close and we turn to face them.

“You know what the girls on reception are talking about right now?” he says casually.

“That I love you and that I’m taking care of my husband’s mental health?” I smile goofily up at him.

“No.” He straightens his tie. “Not even close.”

“Then what are they saying?”

“That you smell like come.” He grabs my sex with his hand.

“Stop.” I laugh out loud as I swat him away as I look up at the cameras. “I do not smell like come,” I splutter.

Oh my god, do I?

He throws me a sexy wink. “Trust me, you do.”





The car pulls into the large circular driveway as nerves dance in my stomach.

I did it.

I got Jameson to take time off and come away; Tristan is covering at work for him and everything is going exactly to plan.

There’s just one little problem.

Jay thinks we are in Thailand to go to a fancy resort, I haven’t told him we are actually here to go to a wellness retreat.

No alcohol, healthy food, meditation, daily Chinese medicine healing sessions, tai chi, Pilates, and massages.

Jameson Miles’ worst nightmare.

He frowns as he looks out of the car window. “What is this?”

“Surprise.” I smile hopefully.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean, surprise?”

“Well.” I lean over him and open his door. “We wanted to wind down and this is the place to do it.”

“What do you mean?”

Damn it, I’m going to have to just come out with it.

“We are booked into a wellness retreat, baby. Isn’t this great?”

“What?” He pulls the car door closed. “No way in fucking hell, Emily.”

“Jameson,” I say sternly. “Get out of the car.”

“No.” He pushes the lock down on the door. “This is the relaxing holiday you booked,” he whispers angrily. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

The driver chuckles from the front seat.

“This is not funny,” Jameson snaps. “Drive.”

The driver’s eyes flick to mine in the rearview mirror for approval.

“Do not drive,” I snap. “Stop being a big baby. Get out of the car, Jameson. Right now.”

“Absolutely not.” He crosses his arms. “I am not staying in this godforsaken fucking hippy place.”

“Well, I am.”

“Good. Have fun eating grass.”

Seriously?

“Jameson, I want to wind down and this is where I want to do it. Can’t you just come here for me?”

“No.”

I begin to get angry.

“It’s either this or camping for a month in Thailand, the choice is yours,” I snap. “And it’s wet season and the mosquitos are Jurassic Park sized.”

He opens his mouth to say something and I cut him off.

“I’m not even joking, Jameson. Do not piss me off,” I whisper angrily. “I am sick to death of living with a fucking stress head so if you can’t come here and try to relax for me, then why are we even married? What is the fucking point?”

He narrows his eyes and glares at me.

I get out of the car in a huff, I am going in and if he doesn’t stay here with me it’s going to be World War Three.

Prepare yourself, fucker.

The driver pops the trunk and gets out to help me with the bags. “Just the one?” he asks.

“Both bags,” I snap.

If he isn’t staying then he’s not getting his things either, screw him.

Thankfully I’m smarter than him.

I knew he would do this so in a premeditated attack I snuck the credit cards out of his wallet while we were on the plane. He has to stay, whether he likes it or not.