The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

“Caught the train. Anyway, I didn’t think I had a chance after Monday and the way we met.”

I screw up my face in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s with Miles Media.”

“You got an internship with Miles Media?” I gasp.

“Yep.” He smiles proudly. “Tristan Miles is my new boss.”

My eyes widen in horror. “What? No,” I snap. “You can’t work with him.” I throw the next towel on the pile with force. “Forget it.”

“Mom, they’re the best media company in the world. It’s a big deal for me to get this. They had over four thousand applicants.”

“You tried to shove underpants in his mouth, Fletcher,” I cry. “How can you walk into that office and not be ashamed of yourself?”

“It’s okay. I apologized, remember?”

“No, it’s not okay. It will never be okay. It’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever witnessed. You can’t work there; I forbid it.”

Fletcher’s a firecracker. I don’t want him embarrassing me further. I get a vision of him losing his temper at work, and I shiver in mortification. This is my worst nightmare.

“I am,” he snaps. “You can’t stop me.”

“I can and I will,” I cry.

“I want to learn from the best. I want to run Anderson Media one day; they can teach me how.”

“All they are going to teach you, Fletcher, is how to be ruthless.”

“And that’s exactly what I want to learn.”

I glare at him. “You call Tristan Miles back and tell him to stick his job where the sun doesn’t shine.” I’m so angry with that man for going behind my back on this that I can’t even stand it.

He should have called me to tell me about the interview.

Ever since he met my kids, I haven’t heard from him. Not that I wanted to, but anyway, it’s the principle of the situation. And now, for him to not call me but to offer my son a job as some kind of poor excuse for him being a wimp who hates kids? He was so hot for me and came to my house, and after one meeting with my children . . . boom. Cold as ice.

I should have known to expect it—actually, who am I kidding? I did.

The beautiful man I met in France isn’t the cold man who lives in New York. They are worlds apart. The man in France I adore; the man in New York I despise.

I don’t want him near Fletcher, and I most definitely don’t want Fletcher to learn business ethics from him.

The notion is preposterous.

I fold my towels with force. I don’t care about Tristan Miles anyway. It’s not like I wanted anything, but he definitely put a dent in my ego. I know he’s brilliant, and I know that Wade would be supporting this. But Tristan Miles is cold and calculating in the business world. I don’t want Fletcher’s first position to be with him. He’s so impressionable, and I don’t want him thinking that the cutthroat Miles Media’s focus is normal. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

“I start on Monday,” Fletcher snaps.

“Over my dead body.”

Chapter 11

I straighten Fletcher’s tie. “Now remember, ask for help if you don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, Mom.”

I dust his shoulders off. After a weekend of tantrums and tears, I have conceded. Fletcher is starting work with Tristan this morning, and I have never felt so sick in my life. “And make sure you drink lots of water. If you get dehydrated, you won’t be able to concentrate.”