Page 153 of Sexting the Boss

But I don’t make it far.

Because Damien finds me first.

He steps out of some shadowy corridor like he owns time and space, looking entirely too clean and composed for someone who’s been avoiding me for a week.

“Hey,” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Nice of you to show up.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he eyes me for a second—longer than necessary—and says, “I’m taking you home.”

I blink again. This was the last thing I expected him to say. “Wait, what?”

“Back to your apartment,” he says, like it’s no big deal.

“What?”

Damien sighs. “You’ll be safer there now.”

I narrow my eyes. “Define ‘safe.’”

But he doesn’t answer. Not really.

He just says, “Pack your things. We leave in an hour.”

And then he walks past me like that conversation doesn’t mean anything to him.

Like I don’t mean anything to him.

I’m not even sure if it’s anger or heartbreak or leftover nausea at this point, but before I can stop myself, it bursts out.

“Oh, so that’s it?” I say, voice sharp enough to stop him mid-stride.

Damien pauses, his back still to me. “What?”

“You’re just dropping me like a sack of potatoes and calling it a day?”

Damien stops walking but doesn’t turn around. His shoulders are tense. That only makes me angrier. He slowly turns, his expression unreadable, which somehow pisses me off more than if he’d scowled.

“You said it yourself,” he says. “You’re not a prisoner.”

I march toward him, my bare feet slapping against the polished wood floor. “You didn’t seem to care about that when you dragged me here without asking. Or when you told me I was in danger. Or when you were climbing into my bed every night!”

His jaw tics. “You were in danger.”

“Oh right,” I say, voice sharp now, “but now suddenly I’m not? What changed, Damien? Or should I say who?”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

I throw my hands up. “This is about Nina, isn’t it? About what I said the other day. You got offended, brooded in a corner, and decided to ship me back to my tiny apartment where someone already tried to grab me off the street!”

His expression hardens. “This has nothing to do with Nina.”

“Really?” I laugh, humorless. “Because she’s still here. Still lurking around like she belongs. Meanwhile I get carted off like I overstayed my welcome.”

Damien steps toward me, and I don’t back down.

“You think I’m doing this because of some petty jealousy?” he says quietly, dangerously. “You think I’d risk your life over that?”

I stare up at him, chest rising and falling. “I don’t know what to think, Damien. You won’t tell me anything, you won’t let me in, and now you’re throwing me out without even a conversation?—”

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