The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

Back and forth I walk. For some reason, I feel like today it’s all coming to a head. I can’t put it off any longer. I need to call him so I know where we stand. All this uncertainty is making me sick.

I can lie to the world all I want, but I can’t lie to myself.

I like being with him.

I nervously dial his number. It begins to ring, and I close my eyes. “Please pick up.”

“Hello,” he snaps in a clipped tone.

I can hear the anger in his voice. “Hi, Tris.”

“Hello, Claire. Yes, what is it?”

I frown. He’s not going to make this easy. I should have known that. “Can I see you, please?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Tris.” I sigh. “Please.”

He stays silent.

“We really need to talk. I’ve had the most terrible week without you.”

Silence.

“Can you book our hotel room?” I ask hopefully.

“I’m not sneaking around with a married woman, Claire,” he fires back.

“No, baby,” I whisper in a moment of weakness. “I’m not married. I’m missing you.”

He inhales sharply. That’s the first time I’ve shown him any semblance of emotion.

Damn it, and it was over the phone. “Please,” I whisper. “We really need to talk.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “One o’clock.”

“Okay.” Excitement runs through me. “I’ll see you then.”

I hang up and smile. For the first time in five days, I have hope.

I nervously walk into the foyer just around one o’clock. I left work early so I wouldn’t be late, and I walk over to our usual meeting spot by the elevator.

Tristan comes out of the restaurant. “Claire.”

“Hi.”

“I’ve got us a table in the restaurant.” He’s had a haircut, but he’s still as sexy as hell. He turns and walks back into the restaurant without waiting for me.

No room.

“Okay.” I follow him over to a table by the window, and he waits to push in my chair—even when severely pissed, he has to use his manners. It’s so intrinsic to him that he wouldn’t even realize he’s doing it. I nervously sit down and wait for him to do the same.

He pours two glasses of water and calls the waiter over. “Can we have some menus, please?” He looks at his watch. “We’ll have to be out of here in forty-five minutes, as I have a meeting. Make that happen, please.”

“Yes, sir.” The waiter takes off in a hurry.

Nerves dance in my stomach as I watch him. My Tris isn’t here. I’m dealing with Tristan Miles the takeover king in all his glory.