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outfits.”
“Can we please go?” James asked.
“Just call for your flying rug.”
I laughed. “Funny, guys.”
We finally drove home, and James and I quickly changed. It felt so good to get out of that itchy material. I knew Nick and Abby were leaving. They had already said goodbye to me. Just as I was ready to come out and seduce my man, I heard voices. I wondered who was here this late. I slipped on a casual shirt and some jeans, and went out to investigate.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” David Camper asked, opening fire. “I know I’ve asked you that often over the years, but really, James! Have you actually lost it this time?”
Nick and Abby took one look at the enraged man before mumbling something about having to check on Arabella and going to bed. They clapped James sympathetically on the shoulder as they walked by, but otherwise kept their eyes on the ground.
I tried very hard to follow them, to just blend into the crowd, but I didn’t even make it into my second step before Camper turned his rage on me.
“Miss Jones, or should I call you Jasmine, where do you think you’re going? Given that you’re actually a paid employee of Cross Enterprises, you’re lucky I haven’t sacked you on the spot!”
James bowed his head respectfully, but his voice was firm. “David, you have to know I will never allow that, so—”
“That isn’t up to you, James!” Camper fired back. “As much as you’d like to think otherwise, you have no say in this company...yet.”
With a look of utter exasperation, he threw his hands up and stormed to the dining room table, where he obviously expected us to join him. It was rather chilling to see my unshakable supervisor lose control, and the fact that he was at James’s house in person was a very bad sign. They didn’t have that sort of relationship that allowed for casual house calls, but they also didn’t have the kind of relationship in which Camper would develop a sudden case of Tourette’s, a fact that had obviously slipped the red-faced man’s mind.
“Are you two coming or what?” he asked, all attempts at professionalism gone.
James sighed quietly and threw me a quick look before he gestured to the kitchen.
Ladies first? Gee, how noble.
By the time he invaded our awkwardly silent staring contest a few moments later, Camper still hadn’t taken a chill pill. “You said you wanted this.” His nostrils flared as he glared daggers across the table, completely unable to rein in his frustration. “Did I misunderstand that somehow?”
“No,” James replied softly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table. “David, I’m sorry. Tonight was actually supposed to be a step in the right direction, a chance to show the upper echelons of London high society that I’ve changed, that I’m mature and respectable, able to maintain a steady relationship. It’s just... Well, I admit that things got a little out of hand.”
After another uneasy pause, David pushed back in his chair. “Out of hand?” he parroted, laying down his ipad down on the table between us. “You call this a little out of hand?!”
My heart stopped, and my skin ran cold as I stared down at the picture. I really couldn’t believe my eyes. How is it possible that it was published so fast? I guess the pic went straight to the online gossip rags.
James seemed just as shocked as I was as he read the headline aloud: “Caught Red-Handed! London Playboy Heats up the Opera with Newest Flame.”
The photograph was one of the two of us mid-fall out the window and onto the fire escape, laughing breathlessly as we tried and failed to keep our balance. We were both flushed and tipsy, wearing those stupid costumes. Worst of all, it was real, worse than anything anyone could have imagined or photoshopped.
James glanced briefly at the table, his eyes tightening as they swept over the iPad screen paper before he turned them back to David. “We can fix this,” he said, surprisingly calm. “It doesn’t have to be—”
“Fix it? Robert’s only had three girlfriends in his entire life!” David interrupted. “Three!”
James rolled his eyes. “I know,” he said, throwing up a hand and looking baffled as hell. “I have no idea what’s wrong with him. The man obviously needs help, but his sorry love life is hardly the point here, David. We need to—”
“You, on the other hand have had, at last count, around 712!”
There was a slight pause, before James leaned back. “Oh,” he said with a little frown on his face. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”
“Um,” I said, “Robert screws women constantly. I’ve witnessed it firsthand. Um, no, not me. But I see his affairs. Kind of accidentally saw him banging a blonde on top of his desk. So let’s not turn him into a saint. He’s only had three girlfriends because he can’t commit.”
“Just like his brother.”
I bit my lip.
David sighed. “The thing is...Robert is much better at hiding his love affairs while James are public and on the front page of every newspaper.”
