The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(97)

I stare at him for a moment as I process his order.

Blue Label scotch and beluga caviar.

Since when has he liked those things? I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

The stewardess smiles warmly. “Yes, sir.”

She disappears out to the kitchen, and I watch as Christopher puts his head back against the seat as if starting to relax.

I don’t know him at all.



Nine hours later

The plane pulls to a stop on the tarmac, and I read the sign out the window.

WELCOME TO NEW YORK

Christopher bounces his leg as he sits beside me, impatient to get off the plane. He knows I’m off. I pretended to sleep the entire nine-hour trip so that I wouldn’t have to talk to him. Mainly . . . because I don’t know what the fuck to say.

He had a few glasses of scotch, ate caviar, and then watched a few movies, all with his hand protectively on my leg.

“You may disembark, Mr. Miles,” the captain says over the speaker.

Christopher stands and gets my handbag out from the overhead and fusses around. He takes my hand and leads me out.

“Thank you.” He shakes everyone’s hands as they line up by the door.

“Have a nice night.” The captain smiles. “Goodbye, Hayden. Lovely to meet you.”

“See you next time.”

I smile, detached from the situation. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience right now. Like I’m physically here . . . but I’m so shocked that I’m not.

He lied to me. For twelve months I have been falling in love with a man who doesn’t even exist.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so betrayed.

We walk out to the stairs, and I look down to see another limousine waiting on the tarmac. The driver is in a black suit and standing beside the car. He looks up and waves, and Christopher laughs and waves excitedly back. He nearly runs us down the stairs to get to him. “Hello, Hans.” He laughs as he pulls the driver in for a hug.

“Hello, Mr. Miles.” The man laughs, seemingly just as excited to see him too.

Christopher puts his arm around me. “This is my Hayden.” He smiles proudly.

“Hello,” Hans says as he shakes my hand.

“Hello.” I smile. Oh, he’s a nice old man, I can tell.

They throw our things in the trunk, and we get into the back seat. Christopher leans over and kisses my temple as he puts his arm around me. “Do you know how much I love you?” he asks.

I stare straight ahead as I hold my tongue.

Not really.





CHRISTOPHER

Hans gets behind the wheel, and we pull out of the airport and onto the main road. “There’s a bit of traffic tonight, I’m afraid, sir,” Hans says. “Bumper to bumper when I was driving in.”

“That’s okay.” I smile as I hold Hayden’s hand firmly in my lap. “Can’t be helped.”

Hayden’s gaze is fixed firmly out the window. This is the quietest I’ve ever seen her, and I have no idea what’s going through her head.

I’m unsure if she’s shocked or furious . . . I’m hoping for shocked but beginning to expect furious.

I should have told her earlier, but I just . . . didn’t know how.

Hans sighs as the traffic comes to a complete standstill. “Looks like there has been an accident now to top it off.” I look up to see lights flashing from a traffic-control van.

I exhale heavily. Great. This is just what I need.

My phone lights up.

Eddie

Shit, now is not the time. I can’t even pretend to be in a good mood. He’s calling to check we landed okay. I’ll call him back tomorrow.

I turn my phone on silent.

“Would you like a glass of wine or champagne?” I ask Hayden as I open the minibar fridge.

Her eyes flick over to me, and I feel the venom behind them.

Hmm . . . I’ve never seen that look before . . . which is a good thing, because I don’t fucking like it.

“No, thank you,” she replies curtly.

I roll my lips. Well, I would. I pour myself a glass of champagne, and unable to help myself, I hold my glass up in a sarcastic cheers sign. “I’ll drink alone, then.”

Her eyes hold mine, and silent animosity swims between us.

Would she rather I be fucking broke?

I take a large gulp of my champagne. It’s smooth, cold, and delicious.

Unlike her in this moment.



The longer we sit in the back of the limo, the more I feel Hayden’s anger festering like a volcano that’s ready to blow.

The more I feel it, the more pissed I get.

Seriously?

She would actually rather I clean fucking toilets for a living?

That’s not loving someone . . . that’s enabling . . . to what, I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s some form of emotional abuse in there somewhere.

The more I think about this, the more I know I’m right. If I was broke and I told her I had money, then I would understand.

But this?

I will not be judged for having money . . . my parents have worked fucking hard to build the Miles empire. What . . . does she think she’s above it? I clench my jaw as I watch her and swish the champagne around my mouth as I silently fume.

How dare she?