Jameson
I drop my shoulders in the back of my limo as I steel myself for what I’m about to do.
“Are you sure about this?” Alan asks as he opens the door.
“Yes. It is what it is; I’m not hiding any longer,” I say as I climb out of the car. I look up at the New York Police Department sign above the door, and I walk through.
The policeman at the front desk smiles. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, my name is Jameson Miles, and I would like to hand myself in.”
The policeman’s face falters. “You are wanted?”
“I was involved in a fistfight with a man named Gabriel Ferrara and then went to the hospital. I was unaware until late last night that you were looking for me. My apologies for taking so long to get here.”
The policeman smiles. “Thank you for coming in.” He opens a door at the side of reception. “Please come this way.”
Five hours later, I stand on the pavement outside the Ferrara building and look up to the top floors. I dial a number that I’ve had for years but have never called.
“Gabriel Ferrara,” the deep voice answers.
“It’s Jameson Miles. I’m out in front of your building. Get down here now.”
I hang up and inhale deeply. I lean my behind on my limo.
After having spent the last five hours in the police station, I am not in the mood to wait for this prick, but I need to say what I need to say, or it’s going to keep festering inside of me.
I told the police that my punch on Ferrara was self-defense and that they need to check the security footage. I’m not sure if it will stick, but it will give me some time. The police were actually okay and told me that seeing he flicked the cigar at me first, I will probably only be charged with common assault and given a good behavior bond.
That, I can deal with.
Gabriel Ferrara appears through the front door, flanked by four security guards.
His eye is black and his cheekbone swollen. I smirk as I see his fucked-up face.
“You look like shit.”
“Yeah, well, a madman attacked me,” he mutters dryly.
I step forward as my anger resurfaces. “I know what you’re doing.”
He glares at me.
“You don’t scare me. It’s laughable how underhanded you have become.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Miles.”
“If you think that underhanded criminal behavior can take down Miles Media, you can think again,” I sneer.
He narrows his eyes.
“Miles Media has been the market leader for thirty years, and we will continue to dominate. Tell me, does your father know what you’ve stooped to?”
He lifts his chin in defiance. “Criminal behavior-what the hell are you talking about? That hit and run has left you delusional.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
We glare at each other; hate hangs in the air like poisonous pollution.
“I know what you’re doing,” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine.
“And as soon as I prove it, I’m going to fry your fucking ass in court.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
I stare at him as I remember how good it felt to hit this fucker. “Is your cheekbone broken?”
He glares at me, and I know it is.
“Let me tell you this-disrespect Emily Foster again, and next time . . . I won’t just break your cheekbone. I will kill you,” I sneer.
He raises his eyebrow as if surprised by my statement. “Is that a threat, Miles?”
“That’s a fucking promise,” I growl. “Leave her out of this.”
I turn and get into my limo, and we pull away. I watch Gabriel Ferrara storm back into the building, flanked by his security.
The day I bring that asshole down is going to be a sweet victory.
I run down the street in the dark. It’s just midnight. I haven’t been here in a while, and for some reason, tonight I need to be.
Emily’s apartment building.
I count the windows until I get to her apartment, and I stare up at it.
What’s she doing?
Is she missing me as much as I’m missing her?
I get a vision of ringing the doorbell and asking to come up, and we would hug, and I would feel happy . . . like I used to.
But then I remember the hurt I felt last week when she lied to me, the out-of-control feeling that I have whenever I’m with her.
The way my enemies are using her to get to me, the way she’s handing them the ammunition like candy.
And I know that nothing could bring me undone . . . except her.
She’s my only weakness.
And weakness is something that I can’t afford to have.
Not now, not ever.
I stare up at her apartment for a long time, and then with a heavy heart, I turn and begin the depressing run home.
I’ve never been so alone.
Emily
I stare at the coffee in front of me; the thought of drinking it turns my stomach. It’s been four days since I got the dreaded four-word text from Jameson.
Move on, I have.
Four days is a long time to walk around with a broken heart . . . it’s weak and barely clinging to life. I keep hoping and praying that he’s going to come back with a grand gesture and hold his arms out, and I run into them, and this nightmare will all be forgotten.
If only that were true.
My mind is clouded with memories of the man I thought I knew. The hole in my life seems so large, and I just don’t understand how you can fall so hard in love with someone in such a short period of time.
I should have stayed with Robbie, because in hindsight, Robbie was safe.
There was never a chance of him hurting me this deeply . . . but then, I wouldn’t have met Jameson and found out what it was like to have this all-consuming love inside of me. No matter how it ended, I wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything. Even if it was only mine for just a little while.
The only thing keeping me going at the moment is Molly and Aaron. They’ve been wonderful. Cheering me on from the sidelines, reminding me of why I came to New York in the first place. It would be so easy to run home right now with my tail between my legs.
“Are you going to eat the rest of that?” Molly gestures to my half-eaten sandwich.
I crinkle up my nose. “No, do you want it?”
“Just forget you ever met him, Em.” Aaron sighs. “No man is worth this heartache.”
I force out a weak smile. “He’ll come back, Aaron. I know he will.”
“You know you keep saying that, Em, but where is the fucking asshole?” Molly replies.
“He’s just . . .” I shrug as I try to articulate my thoughts. “Lost at the moment.”
“No, what he is is a self-absorbed fucking asshole,” she huffs. “Good riddance, I say; you dodged a bullet.”
There is absolutely no love lost between Aaron and Molly as far as Jameson is concerned. “Maybe.” I sigh sadly.
“Come on; we have to get back.” Aaron stands. “Lunch break is over.”
We make our way back out onto the street and are walking toward the Miles Media building when Molly stops on the spot. “Fuck,” she whispers.
“What?”
“Look.”