Monday is my day to work from home.

Hadley the Profit Queen gives each of her employees one day each month to work at home so that she can put “flexible schedules” on the perk sheet for new hires, and Monday is my day. She’s been so on edge lately that I’d assumed that kind of perk was withdrawn.

Howie, Jett’s personal assistant, has brought breakfast to the bedroom when the email comes in. We are sitting at a table for two in a sunny breakfast nook across from the living area. The windows on three sides of the nook offer a fantastic view of the city.

“Wow,” I say, around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

“What?”

“Hadley’s actually going through with it.”

“With...?”

Jett snaps a piece of crispy bacon in two and sticks it into his mouth. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“We each get a day to work from home each month. I thought she’d cancel mine.”

“Are you a subpar employee?”

I stick my tongue out at him, then take a sip of my cranberry juice. “She didn’t cancel it, if that tells you anything.” I open another app on my phone. “There’s a Starbucks three blocks from here. I can set up shop there.”

“Don’t be silly. My office is yours.”

My stomach twists at the offer. Over the last week, it’s like I’ve divided myself in my mind—the criminal Angelica who steals information for a crime boss and the Angelica who’s a little bit head over heels for Jett Brandon. The worst, though, is when the two collide.

Because, of course, offering me his office sets me up perfectly to get the information I need, and working from home will make it easy to meet Charlie for the drop-off.

“You’re too kind.”

“It’s an office. I have several.”

“Are you bragging about the number of offices you have?” I give him a cheeky grin.

“A fact of life,” Jett says. “I can’t offer you any company, though.”

“Company?”

“For work. I’ve got meetings this morning that I don’t want to reschedule. I could rearrange my afternoon and be here instead. If you wanted.”

I bite my lip. “I don’t want to take you away from anything important. I’ll be here, doing Hadley’s bidding.”

Jett throws his napkin to the tablecloth, stands up, and crosses over so he’s standing behind me. When his lips brush against my neck, goose bumps rise on the back of my arms. “What about my bidding?”

“Are you...are you into that kind of thing?” He’s brushing his lips down the curve of my shoulder, setting every nerve ending on fire.

“Dominating women?”

“Yeah.” My voice is breathy, and not on purpose.

“If you’re imagining that ridiculous movie, then no. I don’t have a dungeon with whips and chains. But I do love to be in control.”

“Over me?”

“If you like.”

My breath catches in my throat. I’ve never understood the appeal of the whole dominant/submissive scene, but the sensation of Jett pinning my arms above my head comes roaring back. I wouldn’t mind more of that.

He presses his lips against my cheek one more time. “I’ll be back at noon.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m left with wet heat pooling between my legs and guilt churning in my gut.

* * *

I’m in Jett’s penthouse office, his computer pressed to the corner of the desk, flash drive doing its dirty work, my work laptop positioned neatly in the center of the mahogany surface, when a woman bustles in. Like a guilty asshole, I jump nearly a foot in the air and reach for the flash drive, stopping myself in time.

“Oh,” she gasps, putting her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry, Miss Chandler. Mr. Brandon didn’t tell me that anyone would be here this morning.”

My pulse rushes in my ears. This is his cleaning lady, his maid, whatever. I’m usually gone by the time she comes in the mornings. For the life of me, I can’t remember her name. It’s only slightly less awkward that she knows mine.

I give her a shaky smile. “You must be Mrs.—”

“Mrs. Henderson,” she says, beaming at me. “I can come back later for this room, Miss Chandler.”

“No, no, it’s not a problem.” I stand up from behind the desk. “Is there...anything I can help with?”

Her laugh is grandmotherly and sweet. “No, Miss Chandler, not at all. I dust and vacuum—that’s all.”

I move toward the door and let her in. She bustles around the room, expertly flicking a duster in the nooks and crannies of the bookshelves and over the surface of the desk. I can’t leave the flash drive, but it seems ultra-rude to disappear down the hallway.

“How long have you worked for Mr. Brandon?”

She smiles again. “Oh, I’ve been with the Brandon’s since he was a little boy—twenty years now, I’d say. He asked me to keep his houses when he moved back to Manhattan.” Mrs. Henderson glances over at me. “He usually doesn’t have guests stay so long.”

I blush. “He’s very generous.”

She grins at me and guides the duster over a collection of glass trophies. Business achievements, I assume. “You must be good for him.”

I smile back at her. “What makes you say that?”

Mrs. Henderson purses her lips, thoughtful. “He’s always prided himself on being successful without much help from his father. I think in some ways it made him a little...cold. And that woman didn’t help.” She frowns at the thought of “that woman,” then brightens again when her eyes meet mine. “The way he is about you—always wanting the best things brought for you, making little plans to please you—it reminds me of the way he was when he was younger. He’s got a much bigger heart than he lets on.”

And here I am, stealing from him.

Mrs. Henderson runs a vacuum over the carpet in the office, ending the conversation, then bows out. She’s got the rest of the penthouse to attend to.

“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Chandler.”

“You, too, Mrs. Henderson.”

As soon as she’s gone, I swallow the thick lump in my throat and snatch the drive out of Jett’s computer, dropping it into my purse. Charlie will need to meet me early.

That’s it.

This is the last time I’m giving Charlie anything. Adam is safely out of Manhattan—he texted me last night when he got in—so if there are any repercussions, he won’t be involved. I’ll deliver the flash drive this last time, and then...

I’m going to tell Jett the truth.