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 fucking 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. Fuck 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 just 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. As long as 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....
Fuck it.
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 just 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, just how I want it to be.
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 just type it out and send it, then lean back, phone in my hand, 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.
Chapter Eleven
Angelica
Hadley is not pleased with me today.
One of my sources for the package I was putting together bailed on me on Monday when I had to reschedule for that failed trip to the police department. I just need one more quote—it’s part long-form piece on multilevel marketing schemes and part advertisement for the scheme that’s put the most money into sponsoring the site. The person I bailed on last Monday was the VP of the “second-most trustworthy” program of them all, at least according to the package, and it has taken me, along with two assistants and three photographers, the better part of two weeks to put together.
My boss stands at the corner of my desk, hand on the hip that’s jutting out to the side, with a scowl on her face.
“This needs to be live by 5:30,” she says again, as if we haven’t been going over what needs to happen for the last ten minutes. But there’s no point in arguing.
“Absolutely. I’m only waiting on a final quote, and I should have that by 3:00.”
I hope.
“This hasn’t been a good week for you, Angelica.” Her tone is clipped, cool, but there’s something in it that makes me think this could be an opening to pry out a little humanity from beneath her battle armor.
I tilt my head to the side, let the corners of my mouth turn down a little. “That’s the truth—I didn’t foresee what happened with my brother over the weekend, and—”