Twenty-One
James
As soon as the flight attendant told James they were readying to take off, he switched off his phone.
Time was money, and his jet was equipped with the latest communication technology, enabling him to keep on top of calls, emails, and texts while in the air.
But the past week had been exhausting, and he went straight for the bedroom in the back.
Once he landed in London and turned it back on, a slew of notifications racked up on the screen. Bypassing the useless popups from various apps, he stopped when he came to the mountain of missed calls and messages from Jackie, the C-Suite, his friends and family, and countless business colleagues.
Confusion lanced through him before his gaze landed on the news notifications, and he nearly tossed his phone across the terminal.
‘Alert: Lotus CEO…’
‘Breaking: James Tian In A Relationship With…’
No.
If these were the same articles he had Jackie take down last week, that meant that their hold on the media had ended.
His heart raced and he forced himself to clear the black creeping into his vision. Clearing his throat, he hit the top deck of messages from Luc.
WHY AREN’T YOU PICKING UP
DAMMIT CALL WHEN YOU LAND MEC
Ok you know what I’m just sending this to you
His following message contained a link.
Pressure shoved at the back of James’s eyes, but he ignored the link and switched over to the Lotus group chat.
Gemma: James this is not good. I’m running damage control over here but there’s only so much I can do
Gemma: ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE I KNOW YOU HAVE VOICE OVER WIFI ON YOUR PLANE
Cami: Gem maybe he’s asleep you know he’s been tired. But James seriously call one of us back. It’s all anyone can talk about at the office
Gemma: Ok ok sorry
Pip: Maybe stay away for an extra week or two cabrón
Cami: When you see these take a look at this
She followed up with the same link as Luc, and James’s lungs knotted as he gave in and clicked on it. He’d done his best to brace for the results, but the efforts proved futile as his eyes widened.
Things were so much worse than when Jackie had first shown him, and instead of five articles, there were five pages.
Some of the sources he recognized as Manhattan society rags, but there was no denying that there were some big publications littering the scene.
Nausea worked up his throat as he parked himself on a bench, only one name spinning repeatedly in his head.
Sophie.
Fingers twitching, he hastened to make a call to her, but it went to voicemail. Trying again, his stomach climbed into his lungs as the dial tone spun into oblivion.
“Hey,” she answered.
“Oh, my God, hi,” he replied. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted. “You saw my message, right?”
Lightning struck him dumb. “What? No, not yet. I slept the entire flight. Hang on—”
Panic clawed down his spine and burrowed under his skin as he yanked his cell from his ear and switched to the message thread with her.
A blue dot indicating a new message next to her name singed his eyes, and he clicked without looking at the preview.
Fuck, how had he missed the notification when he read his other messages?
Her simple, two-word message threatened to make him lose his breakfast all over his phone screen.
“Sophie, are you still there?” He pressed the phone back to his ear. “What do you mean it’s over?”
Maybe she wasn’t talking about them. Maybe she meant the ruse and the hiding.
Buzzing infiltrated his ears at her silence, threatening to obscure her words when she spoke.
“I mean, we’re done,” she clarified. “Look, this was a mistake. You and I knew that, and yet … I’m sorry.”
Distress battered him and stung his eyes. “Mist—Sophie, you’re hardly a mistake!”
She sighed. “The point is, this thing between us isn’t good for either of us, so it’s best if we just end it.”
Her answer was straightforward, blunt, and a knife to his back because it made too much damn sense. A boulder blocked his airway as he shut his eyes tightly, and pretended he wasn’t having a near breakdown in the middle of Luton.
“Sophie, please—”
“I need you to face the facts.” She drew in a shaky breath, and her voice wobbled. “You know what people will say if you come back from Europe and see me. Hell, they’re already saying it. So just … make it easier for me. Please.”
Keeping his eyes closed, the burn of tears stung his nose. “So, am I done with Covey, too?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? His campaign was on the up-and-up, and now …
“I don’t know, honestly,” Sophie said. “I haven’t heard anything from Marilyn yet, but regardless, I think I need to remove myself from your campaign.”
Nerve wracking seconds ticked by, dominated by silence. Uncertainty and agitation jumbled together in his gut.
“So—”
“Look, James,” she interrupted. “At the end of the day, I need to do what’s best for Covey. For the promotion I worked my ass off for. And … who that promotion was for.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
Protection. She was protecting herself and who she loved, and honestly, why shouldn’t she?
Something I know all too well.
But … this was them she was talking about.
How could she just toss this away so easily?
“I should go,” she mumbled. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry again.”
“No, wait. None of this is y—”
Three beeps slashed across the space between them, and he yanked the phone away from his ear.
Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he dropped the cell in his lap like it burned. Unshed tears prickled his skin and a pained tightness scratched at his throat as he swallowed hard.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His phone buzzed in his lap, and he didn’t even bother with the caller ID before picking up. “Hello?”
Maybe Sophie changed her mind. Maybe—
Luc yelled something incomprehensible in an explosion of French.
James’s heart plunged back from false hope. “Luc—”
“You must be crazy!”
“I—”
“You're lucky there's an ocean between us right now because I swear to God—”
“Lucien, shut up!”
“Are you kidding me?!” Luc demanded in English.
James sighed, resting his head back against the seat. “You knew about this.”
“I know, but I didn’t think you were stupid enough to get caught,” his friend hissed. “There are pictures of you and Sophie kissing, mec.”
“There’s what?!”
His heart hadn’t slowed but now it threatened to pump right out of his chest.
“Don’t you pay attention to your news alerts?” Luc demanded.
“I was sleeping!” James spluttered. His leg started bouncing up a storm. “Cami sent the same link you did and I looked at a few articles. They were relatively the same and I don’t know, I assumed they’d all be like that.”
Luc sighed. “Dear God. How did you qualify to open your own company again?”
“Alright, calm down, I’m looking now.”
James quickly switched to the link Cami sent and clicked on an article from yesterday. The top picture was of him and Sophie, meeting in a fiery kiss on the patio.
Shit, things had gotten so much worse.
At least with the initial shots, they could deny everything and claim the tabloids were making a mountain out of a molehill. But this …
His gaze hooked and lingered on the other pictures, and every muscle in his body clenched, burning.
This would be nearly impossible to conceal.
He lifted the phone back to his ear. “Oh.”
“‘Oh?!’ That’s all you have to say about this?” Luc demanded.
James rubbed his eye. “Of course, not, but what do you want me to say?”
This was overwhelming.
He was used to knowing his next two moves in advance—had trained to do just that his entire life. But with Sophie, this tipped the scales into a territory where he searched blindfolded.
Luc groaned. “What does this mean for you? For her?”
“I don’t know,” James admitted. “I don’t even know if I’m still working with Covey, at this point, but she made clear that we weren’t going to be working together.”
“Wait, so you did talk to her?”
He detailed the conversation with Sophie, his anxiety flying anew at the repetition.
“Okay, so. Long story short, she wants you to stay away from her,” Luc clarified.
James pinched the fabric of his pants between his fingers and rubbed the dark material. “Yes, but I’m going to get Carl to fly back here, and—”
“What? No!” Luc interrupted.
“Why? I can get Gemma here to meet with the clients this week,” James said. There was also the matter regarding Delacroix to attend to, but he would simply wire his team.
“Christ, did you even listen to her? Even if you come back, she’s not going to want to see you!” Luc pointed out.
Reality spiraled and crashed into James as he leaned back against his seat, hating that Luc was right. But …
“What, I’m supposed to just leave her alone?” James demanded.
“Uh, yes. What good will it do you to push it?” Luc reasoned.
“Because after everything she’s been through, I can’t just let her go like that.” James gritted his teeth.
She didn’t deserve that, especially after her dad.
Luc quieted, then murmured, “Okay, but what if she wants you to let it go? What if she really wants nothing to do with you anymore?”
A crossbow shot phantom pain into James’s chest, the bolt twisting sharply. Forcing the words past the block in his throat, he wrapped his hand into a fist. “Then … I accept it.”
If Sophie wanted him gone for good, he’d do it. It might run him into the ground and stomp him underfoot, but he’d let her go.
“But I need to try, at least,” he continued.
Luc sighed. “Okay.”
They spoke for a few more minutes before James hung up and stared out the window at the gray sky.
Before he could do anything else, his phone beeped, and he glanced at his dad’s name on the screen.
James steeled himself and answered. “Hello?”
“When you and this girl came to dinner, I saw just how much I was wrong about your initial connection,” his dad said, no greeting to be found.
Confusion funneled through James and he checked his watch. “Dad, I don’t—What’s your point?”