“Damn straight,” I pant. We need to stop talking. I can’t run and talk at the same time. What kind of Olympic athlete does he think I am?
“What exercise would you recommend I do? For relaxing, I mean,” he asks as he falls in to jog beside me slowly.
I think for a moment. “Aqua aerobics.”
“Ha.” He laughs. “I’m not that old.”
“You’re pretty old,” I pant.
“Do you want to race me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that murderer has his ax in my lungs, and I’m about to die at any second. I hope you know resuscitation.”
He chuckles. “Wimp.” He takes off at high speed, and I shuffle along and smile as I watch him loop Central Park as he always keeps me in sight.
Jameson Miles is extremely fit . . . and extremely hot.
And luckily for me, I’m his fuck bunny.
I stand in the foyer as I wait for Ava and Molly. We’re just going on our lunch break, and Molly is talking to one of the security guards. I think she’s a little sweet on him.
“You coming out this weekend?” Ava asks.
“Um, I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. I might be going home.” Jeez, I don’t really want to go out with her again. She’s only interested in men if they have money. That’s just so left field for me that I can’t deal with it.
One of the elevators opens, and Tristan steps out and then Jameson. They have two other men with them. Wearing a navy suit and a crisp white shirt, he is the epitome of gorgeous man. Dark hair, square jaw, and those piercing blue eyes. It’s hard to believe that just six hours ago, he was deep inside my body in the shower. He took me twice when we got home from our run this morning. The man’s an animal. His dick is out of this world.
I’ve died and gone to CEO heaven.
“Oh my God,” Ava whispers. “Look who’s coming.”
Jameson is deep in conversation with the men as the four of them stride through the crowded foyer. Everyone stops and stares. I stand still as he walks past, and at the last moment he glances up and catches sight of me. His step falters, and I give him a subtle shake of my head. I don’t want anyone to know about us. He nods once as if in understanding and keeps walking as he falls back into his conversation. We watch as they leave through the front doors and disappear up the street.
They must be going out for lunch.
“Seriously, where do we find men like the Miles brothers?” Ava sighs.
“Right?” I watch the street they disappeared up.
“One of these days,” she whispers. “One of these days.”
I wonder if Jameson had a long and boozy lunch, and more importantly, did he bring back cake? It’s getting to that time of the day where my mind is fixed firmly on something sweet to have with my coffee. “Hi, Emily, have you got your stories we are running with tomorrow?” Hayden asks.
I smile up at him. Hmm. “I didn’t think they were due until four, and it’s only three.”
Hayden is the person who I turn the news in to, and he then passes them on to the next stage.
“I know, but I like to get a head start,” he says casually.
Head start on what? Is he the one selling the stories? Is that why he wants them early, so he can get them off to the highest bidder?
“They’re not ready yet.”
“Okay, cool.” He smiles. “Email them over as soon as you get them sorted.”
My eyes hold his. “Sure.”
I watch him walk back to his desk and fall into conversation with the person who sits next to him.
I’m watching you, asshole.
I look around the office with renewed determination. I’m watching all of you. Every single one.
It’s just now four, and I email Jameson.
Hi,
I booked you a massage with a physio. They will be at your place at seven. Hope this suits your plans.
FB
xoxoxo
A few moments later, a reply bounces back.
Dear FB,
Please define “they.”
J
xx
I roll my eyes. I knew this was coming.
Dear Mr. J,
They . . . aka . . . male physiotherapist professional, nonsexual-act-performing masseuse. Specializes in back treatment and hella expensive.
FB
xoxoxo
I wait for a few moments, and a reply bounces back.
FB,
Fine, can you let them into my apartment, please? I’ll have Alan pick you up at seven. I’ll meet you there, maybe fifteen minutes late.
J
xox
I smile broadly as hope blooms in my chest. I write back.