“I’m going to get a drink and come back and sit with you guys,” he says as he stands. “You want one, Foster?”
“No thanks.” I fake a smile.
“You, Az?”
“No, I’m good,” Aaron replies.
He disappears to the bar.
“Oh my God,” Aaron scoffs. “I didn’t come here to talk about work, and what’s with the fucking nicknames? He’s not my friend.”
“I know, right?” I roll my eyes.
“Why did you tell him where I was?”
“I don’t know,” I stammer. “He put me on the spot.”
“Ugh, great. Now we have to sit with this wanker.”
“Can we just go?” I whisper. “This whole fucking night is a disaster.”
“No. We are staying here until the lights come on.”
I put my head into my hands, and my phone rings. “Hello, Molly,” I snap, annoyed that she’s avoided this hell. “Nothing’s fucking happened yet.”
Monday morning, 10:00 a.m.
My phone on my desk rings. “Hello, Emily,” Sammia says. “Mr. Miles would like to see you in his office right away, please.”
Excitement runs through me. “Okay, I’ll come now.”
I fix my hair and reapply my lipstick and practically run to the elevator. I hope he’s missed me and is making an excuse to see me. I get to the top floor and stride through the foyer. “Hello, Sammia.”
“Hi, Emily. Just go through.”
“Thank you.”
I can walk on the marble today, because I finally bought those new shoes with the rubber soles. Not a click in sight. I knock on his door.
“Come in,” his deep voice purrs.
I open the door, and my face drops. Jake is sitting in front of Jameson’s desk. “Hello.” I smile.
What’s he doing here? Buzz off. This is my time with him.
Jake turns to me, and his face lights up. “Hey, Foster.”
Jameson’s eyes hold Jake’s. “You two seem very chummy.”
“Oh, we went clubbing together on Saturday night, didn’t we, Foz?” He smiles happily.
Jameson’s eyes come back to me, and his jaw ticks in anger.
Holy fuck.
Chapter 13
“Oh,” I stammer in a fluster. “We ran into each other, that’s all.”
Jameson raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Oh, don’t be shy, Foster. We get along famously,” Jake the imbecile says.
I feel the blood drain from my face. Just shut the hell up, would you?
I turn back to Jameson, hoping to change the subject. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes.” His eyes float over to Jake. “I want to know what leads you have, Mr. Peters.”
“Call me Jake,” he says.
Jameson glares at him but remains silent. Oh man. This is uncomfortable. I grip my notepad with white-knuckle force. Why did he have to say we went out together?
We did not go out together. I feel my face begin to perspire.
“Get to the point,” Jameson snaps.
“Well, I’m chasing a few leads, nothing concrete yet. It’s very early days.”
“Early days?” Jameson repeats. “Are you aware, Mr. Peters, of the importance of a swift resolution on this matter?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“No buts,” he growls. “Our stocks dropped by four million dollars today. Every damn day they drop by that much.” He slams his hand on the table, making us both jump. “Do not tell me it’s early days,” he bellows.
Jake and I wither in our chairs. I’ve never seen Jameson this angry. He is stressed.
I wonder if he went for a run this morning. I’m guessing not.
“Mr. Miles,” I interrupt.
Jameson puts his hand up to silence me. “Emily, I want four stories this week.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They need to be sharp, relevant, and, most importantly, traceable.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“You can go,” Jameson snaps. “That is all.”
I frown as my eyes flick between him and Jake. Who’s he talking to? “Me?” I point to my chest.
“Yes, you,” he snaps. “Who else would I be talking to?”
I feel anger flutter in my stomach. “Fine.” I pick up my notepad and stand.
“I want the stories by four o’clock each day.”
“Very well,” I call as I walk toward the door.
“Send Tristan in,” he snaps.