Yesterday was a mistake.

After the piano bar, I called Connor at his office at Brandon, Inc.

“Hey. I’m working on the final paperwork right now, so I should have it up to you—”

I cut him off. “I’m not at the office.”

“You’re not? We have a meeting scheduled for...oh, wait. I’m seeing the email from Emily now.” Papers rustled in the background. “Where the hell are you, Brandon?”

“I’m out for the day. And so are you.”

“What?” Connor laughed. “Is this a joke? You’ve been a complete madman about everything for the last few weeks, and now—”

“Are you coming to the Swan with me or not?”

“Right now? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon!”

“Like you care that it’s two in the afternoon.”

“You know me too well.”

“Come downstairs. I’m going to be in front of the building in ten.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

He met me at the car.

We went to the Swan.

We stayed until three in the morning.

* * *

What did I do last night?

It comes back to me in a rush—the girl with auburn hair, kissing her hard in one of the Swan’s booths, her body thrashing against mine on the dance floor.

Our mouths don’t fit together.

It’s all wrong.

Connor grabbing my arm.

“Stop, man.”

“Fuck off.”

“You don’t like this. I can see your face, Brandon.”

“No, I don’t like it.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “What happened to your girl?”

“What girl?”

“The woman in your office. She brought you dinner—I saw it. She was the one staying in your apartment, right? She seemed amazing.”

“You don’t know her.”

“She’s clearly driving you crazy.”

I wheel toward Connor. I’ve lost count of my drinks. “I’m done with her.”

He puts his hand on my arm, pulls me toward a booth. “Was it serious?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters. Was it serious?”

“She was stealing from me.”

Connor laughs. “Like, the silver?”

“She was downloading shit from my computer so some shady asshole could transfer money out of my accounts.”

“Shit.” He shakes his head. “So another Emerald?”

The word slips out before I can stop myself. “No.”

“No? That seems shady.”

“No.”

My head swims, but now that Connor has asked the question and the answer has slipped out I can’t deny it. I’m too drunk. I’m too heartbroken.

“She’s not like Emerald.”

“Then what—”

“She had a reason. She did it for a reason. A good reason. I never listened to her. I was too pissed to care what she said.”

My stomach plummets to the floor. I’m slurring my words, probably incoherently, but something is so clear in my mind that it’s like a bell ringing down a silent street.

I was a complete prick. I reacted like the Jett I used to be when I was with Emerald, not the Jett I am when I’m with Angelica. She made me give a shit about how other people felt.

Because she gave a shit about how I felt.

She always did, which is why she was so devastated in Cook’s office.

And I didn’t give her the time of day.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, and helps me up off the chair. He takes my phone, texts Stuart, and gets me to the car.

* * *

My head throbs with the memory, my cheeks sickly hot remembering the random girl I kissed at the Swan. No more women like her. Never again.

I have to see Angelica.

I have to tell her I’m sorry.

She deserves a chance to explain everything. Afterward, I have to keep her out of punishment’s way for this. It wasn’t her fault.

The truth is that I did know Angelica. I do know her. And she would only do what she did if she absolutely had to.

Whether Charlie was going to make good on his threats or not, she felt like she had to do whatever was necessary to protect her brother.

Including stealing from me.

But that moment in the elevator—it doesn’t matter why she was going to the penthouse. What I felt then was as real as anything I’ve ever felt.

More real.

I get out of bed too quickly and my stomach lurches, so I take a second to get my balance. Getting to her is all that matters.

But first…a shower. I can’t show up like this.

* * *

It takes me ninety minutes to get to Angelica’s place, and it involves some shady business of my own. I call her office and convince her boss to give me her address. It’s a good thing I’ve practiced being charming all my life, because she eventually gives it to me.

Riding the elevator on the way to her floor, my heart thuds against my rib cage.

There’s a good chance that this is going to turn out as badly as what happened in Cook’s office did. There’s a good chance she won’t forgive me for the way I broke up with her in front of my accountant, then stood by as the police escorted her out of the building. There’s a good chance she’s done with me forever.

But I’m not done with her.

The elevator crawls upward.

In what seems like an eternity later, I double-check the number on the door, then glance down at my outfit. Dress pants and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A jacket would have been too much.

I hesitate, then raise my hand and knock hard on the door.

There’s no movement or sound from inside.

I knock again.

Then I hear movement, faint, and her voice calling, “One minute.”

Dishes clatter against a sink.

Another long pause.

Then the door swings open, and in front of me stands the love of my life.

“Jett.”

Her face is blank, expressionless.

“Can we talk?”

She takes in a breath, lets it out, and considers.

“No.”