I should have forgotten about her by this point. It was Wednesday morning, four days since that night with Rachel.

Four days and I couldn’t think about any other women.

And I tried.

Because I knew what Rachel meant when she told me that this, that the two of us, couldn’t be a thing. That she had plans and that, at the moment, they didn’t involve a man in her life.

I could see the Chrysler Building from my office. It was a corner office, windows on two walls. High above the bustle and noise of Madison Ave.

I stood, pulling an errant wrinkle out of my shirt as I did. I walked over to the window and looked out at the building in question.

If I closed my eyes, I could feel the way she felt with me on the bed. That sense of pressure, of another person near. I could remember the soft smoothness of her skin. The light, floral scent of her shampoo.

Perhaps, I considered, it was like trying to go to sleep. The more you tried, the more awake you became.

That was always the trick. Want to go to sleep? Do your best to stay awake.

But I couldn’t let go of the thoughts of her. And it was ridiculous. I wasn’t even 30 yet and I was the head of a corporation with a valuation with an embarrassing number of zeroes in it.

What I wanted, I got. Who I wanted, I had.

Except for Rachel, apparently. Except for her.

I wondered if maybe that was it. When was the last time someone rejected me?

Of course, it wasn’t exactly rejection, was it? We spent that night together. But that was all she wanted: a single night.

A single night couldn’t satisfy me.

However, I knew that a single night might be best for both of us in some ways. She got what she wanted, and I didn’t have to tell her who and what I was.

No strings and no explanations.

I squeezed my fingers into fists until my knuckles crackled. Then I looked out at the Chrysler Building again, the way the sun dappled golden along its tiered tower.

Gigi choose that moment to walk in. She was the woman I should see. But not the woman that I wanted to see.

She was a tall and leggy blonde. Almost as tall as I was. And that blonde hair was almost platinum and apparently completely uncolored. All natural, as they say.

She was a beautiful if somewhat severe looking woman, the angles of her face harsh in their beauty.

And I knew that she wanted me.

The women like her always wanted me. And she wasn’t shy about letting me know.

“Neil,” she said. I didn’t turn around to face her.

She always called me Neil when we were alone together. Always Mr. Telford if anyone else was around.

She wore a pencil skirt that hugged her hips, a blouse tucked in at her narrow waist.

“Yes?” I said.

“You have that interview coming up. 15 minutes,” she replied.

Did I mention that she worked for me? Not just for my company, but me, personally. Her father owned a large number of shares and he’d gotten her in, supposedly, to ‘learn from the best.’

I figured he hoped Gigi would try to seduce me, and that pretty much lined up with her goals, too.

First executive assistant was her official title. I knew that both she and her father wanted that changed to wife.

And the business part of me was tempted. It looked good, being married. Especially to someone from a family like hers.

The man part of me was tempted, as well. She was beautiful.

I didn’t let either get beyond errant thoughts of temptation, however.

“Something else?” I said.

I could see her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling plate glass window. She was beautiful. It bore repeating.

But she was also cold. Cold enough to burn, if I let myself get too close.

She came closer to me, her reflection disappearing mostly behind mine.

“Take me out tonight, just the two of us,” Gigi said. She looked over my shoulder, looked my reflection in the eye.

“And then what?” I said.

Her eyes dropped for just a moment and then came back up. “Then anything you want. You know that.”

You should want her, I kept thinking. But I don’t.

“No,” I said. Just as the old adage was true about makeup, the same was true of words, I’d found. Less is more.

Gigi hesitated. I could sense that she wanted to say something. Sense her wondering if maybe she should make some move. Like slipping her arms around me, pushing the front of her body against the back of mine.

She didn’t. Instead, she flicked her hair back and started for the door.

“Gigi?” I said before she grabbed the handle.

She turned back to me.

“In the future, don’t take so long to tell me about a meeting. 15 minutes isn’t enough time.”

Even from where I stood, I saw the muscles work in her jaw. “Of course, Mr. Telford.”

She left. I turned back to my view of the Chrysler Building. The meeting didn’t seem so important to me, now. Nor did the company, my cars, my planes, my houses. Not even my bank accounts.

No, the most important bit of information and property to me at that moment was my phone. The latest model iPhone. Apple always sent me a preview version a month before John Doe could go pick his up at Best Buy.

I palmed it from my pocket, the curved aluminum and glass warm from my body.

And the most important bit of information was a phone number in the address book on that phone.

I found our message log right away. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips while I read through it.

I even started typing. I stopped short of sending anything though.

I hesitated. When was the last time I hesitated about anything?

I would send something later, I promised myself. Because I wasn’t going to let this be the end of us. I just needed to make her see the potential that I saw.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, my message typed up but not sent.