Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 59671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!”
It seems James has a penchant for screaming. It’s his favorite thing, he does it all day, he does it all night.
“Fuck me,” Jameson whispers. “What the hell is wrong with this baby?”
I smile up at the ceiling in the dark. “Just lie there quietly and he might go back to sleep.”
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!”
“He’s not going back to sleep.”
I close my eyes, I’m honestly so exhausted that I can’t deal with this.
“What do I do?” Jameson whispers.
“He’s not hungry, check his nappy and, I don’t know, take him for a walk or something, I need to sleep, Jay. I have to get up and feed him in two hours, I’m delirious. I can’t deal with one more night of this.”
“You think I can?”
Jameson gets up and picks up the baby and looks down at him,
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!”
“You are supposed to be chill like your mother, not psychopathic like me.”
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!”
I smile with my eyes closed as I listen to them.
“You don’t need to cry like that, nobody is murdering you…yet.”
I smile into my pillow.
“He said he wants scotch in his bottle.”
“He did not say that.”
“Oh that’s right, it was me, I want to drink scotch from the fucking bottle.”
I giggle.
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!”
“You’re killing me, kid.” He changes his nappy and swaddles him. “Let’s go scream in the living room so Mom can sleep.”
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!”
“You’re going in time-out, you naughty baby. Quit it.”
I smile as I begin to drift back to sleep.
“Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaa!” James’ screams get softer as Jay takes him out of the bedroom.
I wake with a start; my breasts are pumping as I get a letdown.
“Shit, what time is it?” I sit up and rush out into the living room in a panic, and then smile when I see it.
Jameson is flat on his back on the couch with his son swaddled tightly and sleeping on his chest.
Not the first week I imagined having with our baby, there’s been tears and tantrums, breastfeeding issues and crying, so much crying, but it’s been precious just the same.
Jameson said something tonight that struck home with me.
This is Jameson Miles’ son, he has his nature, of course he’s going to be difficult.
And somehow, that makes me love my baby all the more, suddenly I know it’s all going to be okay.
If there’s anyone that can handle a strong-willed Miles man.
It’s me.
I sit at the kitchen counter and read my magazine.
The kids are playing in the back garden, James is five, Imogen is four, Alexander is two, and I’m pregnant again.
We’re running a damn breeding program over here.
To be fair, the last two pregnancies have been surprises, happy surprises, but surprises just the same.
We live in the country full-time now; the kids are barefoot and fancy free.
Living the life that we always wanted for them.
Simple and full of love.
We will move back to New York full time once the kids are high school age.
The sound of the chopper comes over the mountain and the kids all squeal with excitement and run to the back fence to watch it land.
The chopper lands, the door opens and Jameson steps out. Square jaw, dark hair and the best fitted navy suit in all of the land. Still got it, and then some.
I smirk, my husband is hot.
The kids all rush him and run around his feet, he picks up Alexander and puts him on his hip as they walk back to the house.
Daddy’s home.
THE TAKEOVER EPILOGUE
THE TAKEOVER EPILOGUE
Claire
Monday morning.
Tristan and Fletcher’s first day at Anderson Media and while I’m getting to the office with everybody else at 9 a.m. They left home at their usual 6:30 a.m.
What are they doing here so early?
I get into the elevator on the ground floor and ride it up, my mind is in overdrive.
While I’m more grateful than words could ever express to Tristan for taking Anderson Media on, it isn’t going to make the transition any easier.
He runs a tight ship, a super yacht with all the bells and whistles and a high-powered engine room.
I’ve been floating along on a raft made of twigs and string.
Two very different business models with two very different outcomes. I know we have to adapt; I know things have to change.
He’s assured me that he is going to ensure a smooth transition and that there will be no casualties, which is one thing, I guess.
The staff don’t know he’s starting today, he thought it was best that he be the person to break it to them. But reading between the lines I think he doesn’t want me to have to deal with anything stressful now that I’m pregnant.
His only goal now is to protect me and the boys, this company is for them and god help anyone who stands in his way.
The elevator doors open and I look around.