Friday at the office is an exercise in torture.

Angelica left early in the morning. We didn’t speak much as she gathered her things, but outside the elevator she stopped, grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and pulled me down for a kiss. It might have turned into another round in bed if she hadn’t stepped back at the last moment, putting her fingers to her lips.

“That was something else, Jett Brandon,” she said with a wicked little smile, and then climbed into the elevator without a backward glance.

I spent the next hour at the gym across the street, lifting weights and sprinting on the treadmill until my muscles burned. I tried to convince myself that I was relieved there would be no drama, not with Angelica. We hadn’t discussed next steps, and she hadn’t dropped any hints about seeing me again.

I know several women who would have dismissed the “one night” stipulation out of hand, kept pushing, pressing for more time together. Not Angelica. She seems to have a perfect understanding that a one night stand was the only offer on the table. In fact, she seemed to delight in it.

A woman after my own heart.

I’d hoped throwing myself into a workout would sharpen my mind for the office, but things start to come apart at the seams almost as soon as I walk in the door. It takes every ounce of my self-control to pay attention to what other people are saying in meetings. Connor has more updates on the merger, but he can tell I’m fighting to stay interested.

This is exactly the kind of distraction I need to avoid.

“Late night?” Connor says, leaning toward me a little, a conspiratorial grin on his face.

I try to keep these conversations out of the office—for obvious reasons—but I’m still coming down from the incredible high of being with Angelica.

“To say the least.”

“Who is she?”

I shoot Connor a look. “She’s nobody, Connor. It was a one-night stand.”

He leans back in his chair, linking his fingers behind his head. “You don’t look like it was a one night stand.”

“Fine,” I say with faux irritation. “I’m thinking about seeing her again. What’s it to you?”

He shrugs, then shakes his head. “Thought you’d finally rebounded from Emerald. That’s all.”

My hand clenches involuntarily into a fist at the mention of her name. “She’s a nobody.”

Connor takes the hint and stands up. “It looks like the merger can go ahead as planned.”

“Glad to hear it.” My friend and CFO lingers at the door. Back before Emerald, I’d spend most weekends with him and other friends—and women—at the Purple Swan. Connor is paid handsomely, as are all of my high-level employees, but a membership at the Swan would still be beyond his means.

A weekend out with friends will take my mind off Angelica.

“Plans for the weekend?” I say, turning back to my computer.

“Not yet,” Connor says casually.

I look up at him and grin. “Swan tonight?”

“Damn straight,” he says, and disappears before I can change my mind.

* * *

By 2:00, I’m regretting making plans with Connor instead of texting Angelica. My mind is locked on the memory of her face, her body, and I’m beginning to think I’ll combust if I can’t see her again soon.

I want to focus on business—on getting everything right—but how can I do that if my days are consumed with thoughts of a woman I’ve seen one time?

I thought a one-night stand would be optimal. Cleanse my mind of Emerald. Claim a gorgeous woman. Instead, it’s lit me on unholy fire. The worst part is that she was happy with a single night, too.

Yet the look on her face this morning told me she enjoyed it more than a little. She might be open to a few more meetings.

But am I?

Yes.

Denying myself life’s simple pleasures isn’t going to make the business day any easier. Perhaps in this case indulgence is the key to concentration. I could pull it off. I could see her a few more times. See how it plays out. You never know. I thought Emerald was one of a kind. Turns out she was fool’s gold. The same could happen with Angelica. If I keep her at arm’s length—except in bed—that outcome will have little impact.

The same won’t happen with Angelica, says the little voice in the back of my mind. She’s like nobody else on the planet.

I scoff out loud. This is pathetic.

And yet....

I need to drive Emerald out of my mind forever, but more than that, I need to see Angelica again. My cock demands it, even if I know better than to allow her any more influence over me.

You are in control, I remind myself sternly. I can be done with her at any time, and I won’t be any worse for wear. If I can stop thinking about her to the point of obsession, wondering whether our paths will ever cross again, then I’ll be able to focus on work.

I power through the next couple of meetings with the division heads and am mostly pleased with their status updates, although I need to ratchet up the pressure on a few of them to make sure Brandon, Inc. is performing at an appropriate level.

It’s nearly 4:30 when I send Angelica a message.

I don’t overthink it. I type it out and send it, my heart in my throat.

I need more of you.

I’m upping the ante from last night, admitting a little weakness, and we’re both going to know it. Need is far more powerful than want.

The moments drag by with excruciating slowness. I cancel my final meeting of the day, reschedule it for Monday morning. By then this will all be resolved.

I’m climbing into the car at 5:15 when her message comes in.

Same.

Yet no suggestions for where we should meet, or what she wants to do. The ball is still firmly in my court.

Good.

Let’s eat in. Be at my place tomorrow at 8:30.

I wouldn’t miss it for anything.

The tone of her message, with a few minor changes, could be chirpy, flirty—but I read it for what it is: completely serious.