The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

Gabriel bows and then takes a seat back at his table. He kisses the trophy as the photographers snap away. This win will be headlining tomorrow’s news stories across the country.

Fury and silence sweep around our table. Nobody says a word.

I stare at him across the room and want to wipe that sleazy smile off his gorgeous face.

And I will.

Prepare yourself, Mr. Gabriel Ferrara. I’m taking you down.

I gasp for breath as I watch Jameson lap me in Central Park. It’s six o’clock, and the sun is just rising. He’s running particularly fast today . . . and I’m letting him.

I get it now; his responsibility is not something he can just switch off at the end of the day. I feel it for him too now. Last night, however infuriating it was, taught me a valuable lesson on his competitors.

They have no morals and no fear, and that makes them very dangerous players indeed.

Jameson turns and sprints back to me. He’s always careful he keeps me in his sight.

He was quiet when we came home last night, deep in thought. We had a shower and made love, and then he finally relaxed a little. I made us a snack, and we lay on the couch in each other’s arms and watched a movie for a while. We went to bed late, but we needed the time together to wind down.

Neither of us brought up the award ceremony. We didn’t speak of it at all—there’s nothing to say.

It is what it is. No amount of conversation can take away the fact that Ferrara Media has been rewarded for being deceitful. It’s eating me alive; I can only imagine what it’s doing to Jameson.

He comes to a stop in front of me, panting heavily. “You’re especially slow this morning,” he teases.

“You’re especially fast today. That ax must be big.”

He chuckles as he leans in to kiss me. “Fucking huge.” We turn and begin the slow jog back home. “I’ll organize Alan for the weekend to get your things?” he says as he runs.

“About that . . .”

“Yes?” he pants, still exhausted from his sprinting.

“I have a proposal for you.”

He stops running. “Such as?”

I turn and take his hands in mine. “I’ll move in with you on one condition.”

“What?” He stares at me as if already annoyed by my bartering.

“I’ll move in with you if we can get out of New York on the weekends.”

“What?”

“Well, not every weekend.” I shrug. “But enough that we can relax.”

“New York is my home. I am relaxed. What are you talking about, woman?”

I smile and start jogging again.

He catches up with me. “What?”

“It’s impossible to relax here, Jay. This city is hectic. The energy of this place could be seen from space. Sirens sound all night, cars and traffic and millions of people all buzzing at a million miles an hour.”

He watches me as he listens.

“We don’t have to go far out of the city. I’ve already booked a surprise trip away for us this weekend.”