I wake up with a start sometime in the middle of the night.

For a few moments, I have no clue where I am. Whose bed is this? Whose arm is this, thrown protectively over my waist?

Then I take in a deep breath and catch his scent.

Jett Brandon.

He’s sleeping deeply, peacefully, his breathing even and slow, but it doesn’t matter—heat rises to my cheeks as the memory of the unbelievable sex we had floods my mind.

I suck in a breath and bite my lip. My first instinct is to press his arm down until his fingers reach my clit. What man could sleep through that? He’ll wake up knowing for certain that I want—

But I can’t.

The warmth in my belly is doused with ice. I still haven’t done what I came here to do.

I didn’t come here to sleep with Jett Brandon—not really. I came here to install a program on his computer. To do what Charlie instructed me to do so that a few stitches is the worst thing that happens to my brother.

Now is my chance, but Jett’s arm is curled tightly around me. If I try to move it, will he stir, pull me back into bed? It doesn’t matter. I’ll lie awake for the rest of the night, waiting for another opportunity to sneak away. To do this awful thing.

I swallow hard. I don’t want him to wake up and catch me in the act. Because there’s a part of me that wants this to be more than a one-night stand, more than a fling that happened because he stopped that elevator and climbed on.

Get a grip, Angelica.

Jett Brandon is not the kind of man who’s going to want to get into a relationship with a woman like me. It takes five seconds of realism to see that the end game is a disaster. What, a billionaire is going to come home with me to the single-wide trailer I grew up in and meet my mother, who still lives there? Who still works at the convenience store at the intersection of two highways, fifteen miles out of town?

There’s no point in even considering it.

As for Charlie’s instructions, it’s now or never.

I take a deep, steadying breath and slide one arm under Jett’s, gently pushing it off to the side. His breathing changes when his hand hits the sheets, but I lie perfectly still as he rolls over. It can’t be more than a minute before he’s sleeping deeply again.

Now for phase two.

As carefully as possible, I inch my way to the side of the bed, then guide my legs over the side. When I stand up, my toes sink into the plush carpeting, but I don’t move.

He’s still sleeping.

Once my heart settles a little bit, I pad across the room. His bedroom door is open—he didn’t shut it when we came in and I’m the first one out of bed.

The hallway outside is illuminated with running lights along the trim that activate when I step out, and my heart pounds at the sight of it. Then I realize this is exactly what they’re meant for—to give enough light in the middle of the night without blinding you. It takes no time for my eyes to adjust.

Of course, now there’s literally a lighted trail following me down the hall.

Going to the bathroom, I think. If he catches you, you were trying to find the bathroom. I’m not stupid enough to think that a billionaire would have settled for a bathroom outside of his master suite, but people do strange things when they’ve woken in the middle of the night in a strange place. That will explain it.

My purse is on the floor outside Jett’s bedroom door, right where I dropped it on the way in. I bend down and move things aside until my fingers close around the smooth plastic cover of the thumb drive. I leave the purse on the floor. It would be stupid to move it now and then have him wonder what I was doing.

Especially if I want any chance with him after this.

I shove that ridiculous thought out of my mind.

Now to find his office. I’m assuming that’s where he keeps his computer.

His office turns out to be behind the third door on the left, and I let out a sigh of relief when I find it. At least it’s not all the way across the penthouse. I have no idea how huge this place is, but there’s only so far the bathroom excuse will take me if he wakes up and finds that I’m not in bed.

There’s ambient city light coming in through the window of the office, so I don’t reach for a switch.

My heart sinks.

There’s no computer.

I giggle, a weird, nervous sound. Of course there’s no desktop computer. Jett Brandon probably takes his essential tech everywhere he goes.

It’s an Apple laptop, the case shiny and smooth, and it’s right in the center of his desk.

I hurry over and open it. The screen illuminates immediately. He hasn’t powered it off. Thank Christ. I don’t know how to stop the chime from sounding when the computer starts up, so it’s a good thing this can be soundless and I’m several rooms down the hall from the bedroom.

For good measure, I hit the key on the keyboard that mutes the volume, then I slide the thumb drive into one of the USB ports.

Charlie said this wouldn’t require me to log in, and he was right. Within seconds, a status bar appears in the lower left hand corner of the screen.

10%.

20%.

50%.

70%.

The whirring of the computer’s internal fan seems ridiculously loud, and I strain to hear over it. Were those footsteps in the hall?

80%.

90%.

As soon as the indicator reaches 100% and notifies me that installation was successful, I snatch the thumb drive and shut the cover of the computer. If he doesn’t decide to work within the next ten minutes, he’ll never be the wiser.

I move silently back down the hall, dropping the thumb drive into my purse before pausing at the door.

Jett hasn’t moved.

The sweet warmth of relief floods my body.

Followed by a guilty lump in my throat, so sharp it takes my breath away.

Because I want more of him, too.