Jameson Fox

By: Nina Levine


I told him this morning would go a lot more smoothly if we slept apart. He didn’t listen to me. As predicted, I woke highly annoyed. And since he’s been his usual bossy, demanding self from the minute he spotted me in the kitchen this morning, I haven’t been able to let go of that annoyance.

“We leave in fifteen minutes,” he says overbearingly, striding into my dressing room where I’m packing my suitcase.

I straighten, glaring at him and his arrogance. I know we leave in fifteen minutes. There’s no need for him to come in here and tell me this like I require the reminder. Also, I don’t appreciate him intruding on my privacy. The small amount I now have. “You do know this is my dressing room now, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just stands there in all his suit glory—goddamn, the man can wear a suit—and gives me that bored look of his that I hate almost as much as I hate him. Finally, he says, “I’ll be waiting in the foyer. Don’t take your time.”

“Jameson,” I say as he exits the dressing room.

He looks back at me, waiting for whatever I have to say.

“Don’t come in here again.”

“Don’t make it so I need to.” With that, he turns and leaves before I have a chance to process the assholeness of what he just said.

Usually, I’m fast with my processing and never miss the chance to get my thoughts across to people, but Jameson has a way of catching me unawares and a way of screwing with my thoughts.

The last three months have been filled with these kinds of interactions. From the minute he proposed this fake marriage to me, he’s been messing with my ability to respond to bullshit. I don’t know what it is or how he does it, but I seriously need to work on my game.

Determined to do that, I finish with my suitcase and head out to the foyer in plenty of time to meet his deadline. My best friend texts me as I deposit my suitcase near the elevator for his driver to collect, and since Jameson isn’t here yet, I reply to her message.

Natalie: What time are you leaving today?

Me: MA’s schedule says in six minutes.

Natalie: Oh Jesus, MA and his schedules. 364 more nights, babe. You’ve got this.

Me: I really fucking do, but MA’s balls may not survive all of those 364 nights if he continues on with his assholey ways.

Natalie: I mean, does your contract say anything about them surviving?

Me: Not a thing. I think I’m still good if he suddenly loses them.

Natalie: Well, if you need a hand to bury them, I’m your girl.

Me: This is why I love you and am going to miss you next week.

Natalie: Remind me again why you two even need a honeymoon. Jameson is a known workaholic. It wouldn’t have been suspicious if he didn’t take one.

Me: God, do not remind me of the argument he and I had over this damn honeymoon. I do not need to ever relive that day.

When Jameson sprung the honeymoon on me three weeks ago, I told him that over my dead body was I going away with him for a week. He told me to kiss my company goodbye if I refused. The company he’s giving back to me when our marriage contract is fulfilled. We then engaged in six hours of warfare over it. In the end, he won, and I drowned my sorrows at a bar I thought he’d never find me in. That was the night I learned that Jameson Fox has super-fucking-powers when it comes to keeping an eye on a person. It was also the night I learned he’d had one of his men watching me 24/7 since the day I agreed to marry him.

Natalie: I’ve gotta go. I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing okay and to remind you I’m here if you need to yell or scream or plan mass ball extraction.

Adeline: I love you. See you in a week.

Natalie: Oh, and if Mr. Asshole doesn’t take care of you, I’m coming for him. And trust me, losing his balls will be the least of his worries if I’m unleashed on him. Love you, too xx

She’s not joking.

My best friend is hardcore when it comes to men and the amount of bullshit from them that she won’t put up with.

I log into my emails on my phone and am scrolling through them when Jameson joins me.

“You’re ready?”

I meet his gaze. “I’m not standing here waiting for you for the fun of it, Jameson.”

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