The Dirty Series 2(38)

“Can I get back to you on that?” I say, like I’m actually going to turn him down. “Jett Brandon.” I turn his name over in my mouth, half to myself, half in wonderment that this is the “Brandon” Charlie wants me to scam in order to save my brother’s life.

My brother’s life.

Jett’s reply is instantaneous. “Take my number.” The phrase is full of authority, and I don’t hesitate before reaching into my purse for my phone. He gives me his number, and I almost put it into my contacts incorrectly because my hands, Christ, they’re trembling.

The elevator slows, stops, dings, but I’ve looked back into Jett’s eyes and I’m frozen in place and can’t look away. I don’t want to look away. In fact, now I want to mash all of the buttons on the panel so that we’re stuck in here for the next twenty minutes waiting for it to get to the penthouse. He might be a cocky asshole, but with a body like that, with that kind of confidence, he’s got to be able to—.

“Your floor,” he says with a smile that only increases the heated slickness pooling between my legs.

At the last instant, I step out onto the carpet in the eighth floor hallway, and as the doors close between us, I give him a little wave.

As soon as I hear the elevator car start moving upward, I collapse against the wall, my chest heaving.

Holy fuck, that was close.

He was supposed to be gone this morning—and he could have caught me red-handed.

My phone vibrates in my hand. It’s Charlie, demanding an update.

I try to catch my breath as I tap out a reply, the warmth of my desire dissipating into cold fear once again. I don’t want Charlie to think I’m screwing with him.

Brandon came home early. I couldn’t install the program, but he asked me to meet him on Thursday. I’ll make sure he takes me home and I’ll do it then.

Charlie’s reply comes a few moments later.

Fine.

Then,

You know what happens if you can’t make this work.





Chapter Six





Jett



Angelica waits until mid-morning on Wednesday to answer me, so long that I’ve half dismissed her. If only I could get that perfect body out of my head, force her smile from my mind. Yes, she’s the perfect remedy for erasing my memories of Emerald, who never looked that gorgeous even on her best day.

Her text comes in during a meeting with Connor. When my phone vibrates, I force myself not to look at it. I keep my eyes firmly planted on Connor’s face, even when he glances down at the phone.

“You sure you don’t want to get that?”

“It can wait. Finish what you were saying.”

“Their estimates on the area of influence were too high, but I think there’s a way to salvage this. We’ll need to readjust some of our own targets, but it’s doable.”

“Hard numbers?”

Connor shakes his head. This business with the media company is taking longer than I’d like, but I’m going to get it right.

“OK. Let me know as soon as they come in.”

“Will do.”

He gets up from his seat across from my desk and leaves, whistling a tune I don’t recognize. The second he’s out of sight I snatch my phone from my desktop.

My heart turns over. The message is from a number I don’t know, but it says,

I’m getting back to you. Where should we meet? :) -Angelica

I save the number into my contacts and then type a reply.

The Purple Swan. Give them my name at the main entrance. 8:00.

Then I follow it up with the address, my nerves jittery. I never get jittery.

The Swan will be perfect. I haven’t been going regularly for almost a year—things with Brandon, Inc. required more of my attention, and then there was Emerald—but I don’t think twice about it. It’s an exclusive club that offers everything: private rooms, dancing, and world-class dining. The clientele is made up of New York City’s richest, and they’re quick to kick out people who disturb the peace.

Angelica is early. I know because I come through a side entrance to the lobby at 7:50 on Thursday and she’s already waiting, stunning in a black dress that makes the one she was wearing in the elevator look like something you’d wear to clean the house. She stands with her back straight, looking toward the front entrance with a little smile that fades, then returns, then fades again.

My cock hardens at the sight of her. Everything about her is pure perfection, from the way she’s pulled her hair back into a delicate twist to the way she sways, ever so slightly, on her high heels.

I allow myself to appreciate her for as long as I can stand it, and then I approach, sliding my hand across the small of her back as soon as I reach her. This is going to be bare skin by the end of the night. She stiffens, then turns toward me. When her eyes meet mine, her smile is bright enough to power the entire city.