The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(102)

“That’s what I said,” Tristan snaps. “I handle the money side of things; you all know that.”

“We have the accounts and legal team meeting us at the office at eight,” Elliot replies.

My eyes flick to him. “Does Dad know?”

“Yeah.” He exhales heavily. “He’s meeting us there.”

I clench my jaw and stare out the window as we fly through the streets of New York.

Anger, confusion, and betrayal are all that I see.

I drag my hand down my face and inhale deeply as I try to slow my heart rate down. I feel crazier than ever before.

My reputation . . . my business.

My girl.

I stare out the window, and moments later we arrive at the Miles Media building. It’s just 7:20 a.m., and we make our way to the top floor. I need to be alone before the craziness begins.

I walk into my office, shut the door, and drop into my chair at my desk.

The room is silent . . . and empty.

Through my windows I can see bustling New York below as the city prepares for the day. Everything down there seems so normal . . . so in order.

My temper is simmering like a volcano and dangerously close to exploding.

I don’t know if I’m going to smash something or burst into tears.

Either way, I feel completely unstable.

With my elbows on the desk, I drop my head into my hands; my breath quivers on the intake as I try to calm myself down.

She told me she was going out with Molly and Aaron last night. I go over the conversation we had when she got home.

“How were your friends?” I asked.

“Great . . . it was good to see them,” she replied.

She lied.

I was at home missing her . . . and she was out with another man.

I get a lump in my throat as reality sets in.

I’ve been over here falling madly in love with her . . . while she’s been seeing someone else.

The door clicks, and I close my eyes to try and block out Tristan—I know it’s him.

He knows me better than anyone.

I hear him go to the bar and drop ice into two glasses, then the comforting sound of scotch being poured. He places one in front of me, and my heavy eyes rise to meet his.

He clinks his glass with mine as it sits in my hand. “Well, this day fucking sucks already.” He leans on my desk with his behind.

“You think?” I mutter as I take a sip. I feel the burn as it glides down my throat.

“When was the photo taken?” he asks.

“Last night.”





He frowns.


I clench my jaw as I stare out the window, ashamed that the woman I love doesn’t love me back. “She said she was out with Molly and Aaron.”

He sips his scotch and raises his eyebrows as if surprised that she lied. “I thought she was the one.”

I frown, my chest constricting once more. “That makes two of us.”





Silence hangs between us.


“Let’s just get through this day and prove your innocence.” He sighs as he drains his glass.





I nod.


He watches me for a moment, and eventually he asks, “You okay?”

I nod once, unable to push the lie past my lips.

“We will prove that you’re innocent, Jay.” He puts his reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I promise you.”

I drain my glass and go to the bar for a refill.

He watches me once more, and I know he’s choosing his words wisely. “Tell me that you’re all right.”

I roll my lips, and my eyes rise to his. “I’m all right.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to lose your shit and kill someone?”

“If you want to save a life today, get rid of Jake Peters.”

“It’s already done. I called and fired him this morning at five a.m., as soon as I saw the story.”

I take a sip of the amber fluid; it heats my throat as it goes down.

He pauses before he asks, “Do you want me to fire Emily?”

I stare out the window and over the city. “No.”

“I was thinking . . . ,” he continues.

“Get out,” I bark.

“But—”

“Now.”

The door clicks quietly behind him, and I stand and move to the window and stare out over the city.

Adrenaline surges through my body, and I feel the earth’s tectonic plates move beneath me. I sip my scotch as a cold, detached determination takes its place in my soul.

Nobody fucks with me like this and gets away with it.

Get ready to meet your maker, Mr. Ferrara.





Your day is near.


Emily


I bounce out to the waiting limo and see trusty Alan standing beside it. He opens the door. “Good morning, Alan.”

He nods. “Morning.”

I frown and get in. He’s not in a very good mood today. The door closes behind me, and I look around for the paper.

Hmm . . . Jameson must have taken it with him this morning. I’m still sleepy and lethargic. There’s a lot to be said for morning exercise—it definitely wakes you up for the day. I put my head back and close my eyes as we roll through the traffic.