The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(101)

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 timing 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.

“It’s coming up that the transfers were made from your log-in details.”

“What?” I screw up my face in question. “That’s impossible; I haven’t been into our business accounts for months. I have no reason to.”