The more I learn about Angelica, the more I wonder why I’ve ever wasted my time with trust fund bitches like Emerald.

Not that I’m against trust funds, per se. I certainly have one. I didn’t decide to squander it and then seduce wealthy women to try and finance my business ventures.

I can’t get Angelica out of my head at work on Friday, which is the exact thing I was trying to avoid by having her stay at the penthouse. I thought that if I could take her enough during the off-hours, she’d be out of my system during the workday.

That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I keep replaying our conversation from the night before. Her face was a little guarded, like she wasn’t sure what I would think of her, that I would judge her.

It’s hard to imagine what that life would be like, but it explains why she’s so cool under pressure.

She balances out my quick temper.

Emily interrupts my train of thought. “Mr. Brandon?”

“Yes?”

“Your ten o’clock canceled—Mr. Pierce from Pierce Industries.”

For the first time, I notice how carefully Emily is controlling her expression.

She’s waiting for me to get angry, to snap at her. It’s true. I hate it when people cancel meetings at the last minute, but this isn’t Emily’s fault. I’ve met Pierce more than once at the Swan. We had a very similar strategy when it came to women—use them, lose them, rinse, repeat—right up until he met his now-wife, Quinn. She’s hot enough to be a mainstay on the gossip websites, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Angelica.

Angelica, who might frown at this news, then move on with a smile.

“Did he want to reschedule?”

Emily’s shoulders relax. “His secretary wanted to check on your schedule.”

“Any time next week.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brandon.” She doesn’t say “for not acting like a total asshole.” Her thought is written on her face.

I didn’t want Angelica to have any influence over me. That may have been misguided.

Now that I have more of an idea how precarious her life must seem to her, I’m overcome by the urge to do something special for her. When she’s with me, she shouldn’t have any worries.

What about afterward?

I dismiss the thought entirely. Having her gone used to be the light at the end of the tunnel—the reward for not succumbing to the influence of another cheating whore—and now it looks more like an oncoming freight train with every day that passes.

I spend fifteen minutes during what was supposed to be my ten o’clock meeting planning a special night out. I call in a favor and get seats at Eleven Madison Park, front row tickets to a Broadway show that’s been sold out for months, and have a selection of couture gowns sent to the penthouse. I’d fly us both out of Manhattan tonight, maybe to Aspen or Saint Tropez, but I want to be here to oversee Brandon, Inc., and it’s a good guess that Angelica wants to keep her job. Instead we’ll do something touristy, but with the added novelty that it will be something that only a large amount of money can buy.

Plans tonight? I text Angelica.

No. Unless I have some with you :)

You do now. Be at the penthouse by 5:30

With all the plans for the evening in motion, my mind is freed up to conduct the day’s business. I review the paperwork for three additional mergers I have planned for the coming year. I make several video calls to some of Brandon, Inc.’s international partners. I meet with the department heads for status updates.

That’s when things start to go off the rails.

The meetings run over. I’m about to switch off my computer and get the hell away from here and back to Angelica when Connor appears, his jaw set.

“What is it?”

“Something has come up at the last minute with the merger.”

I force myself to take a deep breath before I answer.

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.”

“Then screw it. Have the lawyers walk back the agreement. This is not worth it.”

Connor shakes his head. “They had a whistleblower come forward.”

“About what?”

“Financial fraud. The news is going to break any minute.”

My jaw clenches. “What?”

“I don’t have all the details yet, but they’re not small fish. I think the investigation might extend to our dealings with them, as well.”

Jesus Christ. This is the last thing I need.

“Excellent,” I say bitterly, then turn back to my desk.

“Sorry, Jett.”

“Don’t be. We’re withdrawing. I’ll have legal on it as soon as they can put their asses in seats.”

Connor must sense the conversation is over, because the next time I look up at the doorway, he’s gone.

“Emily?”

She’s at the threshold instantly, her face hopeful.

“I need the legal team here in fifteen minutes. Tell them to cancel their plans for the evening.”

She nods tightly. If she’s disappointed about having to work late, she doesn’t show it on her face. “Would you like me to order in?”

“Yes. It could be a long evening.”

I reach for my phone to send Angelica a text, but think better of it. It’s 5:00 now, so she should be on her way out of the office.

She picks up on the first ring.

“Hey.” She sounds excited and breathless, like she’s taking the stairs down to the first floor. The sound of her shoes clattering against the metal stairwell breaks through the noise cancelling effect on her phone. That’s exactly what she’s doing. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing tonight, or is it a surprise?”

“That’s what I’m calling about.”

“Change of plans?”

“Something came up with an acquisition I’ve been working on for weeks. I have to be here.” This is a half-truth. Connor could meet with the lawyers without me, but I can’t stand it if one more thing goes wrong on my watch while I’m gone with a woman—even if it’s Angelica.

I wait for her to be upset.

“Ugh, what a bummer,” Angelica says, and there’s no whining disappointment, only empathy in her voice. “Another night, then.”

“Another night.”

“I’ll wait up!” she says, and laughs at her own joke.

As pissed as I am, it puts a smile on my face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”