The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

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.”

“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.