“Jesus,” he says softly.
“There wasn’t a lot of work to go around when it wasn’t tourist season, so she cobbled together multiple jobs to make ends meet. Adam and I had to fend for ourselves.” This is bordering on a sob story. Gotta wrap it up. “So, yeah, I’m worried that Sisterspark will go under. But I’ll be able to handle it. I always keep my resume updated.”
Jett is looking at me like I’m a different person. Someone impressive. Someone worthwhile.
Thank Christ.
I wait another moment for him to change his mind—to tell me that he’s not interested in having some piece of trailer trash living in his penthouse, or to look at me like I’m just a money-grubbing bitch—but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans in and kisses my cheek tenderly.
“Angelica Chandler, you’re something else.”
Chapter Twenty
Jett
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 just 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 fuck 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 just 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 fucking 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 have to say “for not acting like a total asshole.” It’s evident what she’s thinking 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, and then Connor appears, his jaw set, just when I’m about to switch off my computer and get the hell away from here and back to Angelica.
“What is it?”