The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

“Jameson told us that you met each other more than twelve months ago,” Elizabeth continues.

“Yes.” I fake a smile. Oh dear God. What did he tell them about how we met? Please don’t let it be the truth, that we sat next to each other on a boozy flight and flirted like sex-starved fools and then had wild layover sex for twelve hours while I tried to suck every last drop of blood from his neck. I pick up my wine and tip my head back and kick Jameson’s foot.

Help me, fucker.

He smiles as if he already knows what’s going on in my head.

Tristan finally takes a seat, and Melina leans over and kisses him. “Let’s go mingle.”

He frowns as he takes his first sip of scotch. “No, babe. I’m staying here. Knock yourself out.”

Melina waves at a woman on the other side of the room and stands. “Back in a moment.” She smiles to the table as she practically runs to the woman and air kisses her two cheeks. “Darling,” she cries

, and they fake gush over each other.

My eyes find Jameson’s, and he rolls his lips in amusement. It’s as if he can read my mind.

She’s a twit.

Jameson’s jaw tilts skyward, and his tongue runs across his teeth as if he’s angered. I follow his line of sight and see a group of men and women arriving at a table across from us. My eyes flick to his father and mother as they look on as well.

“Who are they?” I whisper.

“The Ferrara family.”

I frown in question.

“They own the Gazette and Ferrara Media.”

My eyes widen. “Oh.” I go back to watching them as they all sit around the table. Three sons and a mother and father, Italian by the looks of it. Gorgeous-looking people . . . all dark hair and brown eyes. Only one son has a date; the other two are alone. The eldest son looks over and smiles when he sees us. He waves and dips his head. Jameson dips his head back in a polite but cold gesture.

“Who’s that?” I whisper.

“Gabriel Ferrara,” Jameson replies as he sips his drink. Contempt drips from his every pore. “The CEO.”

My eyes widen. I can tell that there is no love lost between the two families.

CEO versus CEO.

“Emily?” a woman’s voice gasps from behind us.

We all turn to see a woman. I know her. “Athena.” I laugh as I stand. Athena is in her sixties and a woman of the world. I adore her.

“Oh my God,” she gasps as she pulls me into an embrace. “Jameson Miles, how on earth do you know Emily Foster?”

He chuckles.

“Emily has been my intern every college holiday for three years.” Athena laughs.

George looks on as if impressed.

“She wouldn’t move here for my company.” She smiles as she rubs my arm.

“What do you mean?” George asks.

“Best damn reporter I ever had,” Athena replies. “I’ve offered her a job every year, but she always turned me down, stating that Miles Media would be the only reason she would move to New York.”

I smile awkwardly. Please shut up. I’m trying to play it cool here.