Page 175 of Sexting the Boss

—Mark

Ugh.

I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to run into anyone. Especially not Damien.

But I know I need to tie up the loose ends. And I could use the final paycheck.

So I go. Hoodie up, low cap, head down. Get in, get out, breathe minimal air.

Before I leave the building, I pull out my phone and text Ryan.

It’s instinct more than anything. He’s been kind these past few weeks, checking in on me when no one else did. The one person who never made me feel like a ticking time bomb.

Me: Hey I’m dropping by the office for some paperwork. Want to grab lunch?

The reply comes fast.

Ryan: Absolutely, and later maybe we can go to that Indian restaurant I told you about months ago.

I smile, a little warmth blooming in my chest. It’s…nice. That’s all. Just simple and nice.

The formalities are over quicker than I expect it to be. They’ve cleaned out my desk for me so I don’t need to bother with that. Thankfully, I don’t run into Damien again.

I take the side hallway shortcut toward the exit elevators, my mind already drifting to the idea of food, real food, maybe even a milkshake. But as I turn the corner near the old conference rooms, I hear a voice that stops me in my tracks.

I stop short behind the half-open frosted glass doors. I know that voice.

Nina.

And the other one? Ryan.

I freeze.

My brain doesn’t process it at first—Ryan? What would he be doing here?

I peek through the gap between the door and the frame, heart thudding.

They’re standing together near the window, backs partially to me. Nina has her arms crossed, but she’s smiling. Ryan’s leaning slightly toward her, relaxed, like they’ve done this before.

There’s nothing flirty or romantic. But they know each other. Way too well.

“Everything’s lining up,” she says. “We just need her to stay where she is a little longer.”

“She will,” Ryan replies. “She trusts me.”

That sentence lands like a punch to the gut.

I feel everything in me go still. The breath knocked out of me without a sound.

They’re talking about me.

They have to be.

“She mentioned anything to anyone else?” Nina asks, a little too casual.

“No. She’s keeping quiet. If anything changes, I’ll know.”

I press a hand to my mouth.

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