Page 26 of Sexting the Boss

Ryan’s face falls instantly. “Shit. Seriously?”

Before I can reassure him that it’s fine, Brittany pounces. She turns to Ryan, all too eager to pile on. “See, this is why you shouldn’t have given them to her.”

I stiffen.

Ryan frowns. “What?”

Brittany shrugs dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I mean, you’re embarrassed now, right? You should’ve handled it yourself. She’s new. She still has a lot to learn.”

A ripple of awkward silence spreads through the group.

Tara’s mouth parts slightly, like she’s ready to jump in, but Ryan speaks first. “I trust Sasha,” he says firmly, but there’s frustration in his voice now, like Brittany’s words got to him.

I press my lips together, my face heating.

Because—yes, I made a mistake.

But the way Brittany says it, so carefully worded, so sweetly venomous, makes it feel worse.

Like she’s not just pointing out an error—she’s making a point.

I force a smile, even though my stomach is twisting. “I’ll fix it.”

Ryan hesitates, then nods tightly. “Yeah. Just, uh…get it done soon.”

Brittany’s smirk grows, like she’s won something, and I want so badly to wipe it off her face.

Instead, I take a deep breath, turn to my computer, and get to work.

I keep my expression neutral, but inside I am fuming.

Brittany’s littleshe’s new, she has a lot to learncomment keeps echoing in my head, rattling around my brain like a goddamn mosquito I can’t swat away.

I take a slow breath, forcing myself to focus. This isn’t high school. I’m not going to let some petty queen bee moment ruin my day. I’ll fix the damn slides, prove I can handle my work, and move on.

Ryan has already moved on, flipping through his emails, but I can tell he’s annoyed. He probably thinks Brittany is right—that he should’ve just done it himself instead of trusting me.

And that? That stings.

I click open the corrupted file, fingers flying over the keyboard as I start troubleshooting. The faster I fix this, the sooner I can erase this entire humiliating morning from my memory.

I barely get through the first attempt at recovery before Brittany leans in again, voice syrupy sweet. “You know, Sasha, I get it,” she says.

I don’t look at her. “Get what?”

Her fake sympathy drips like poison. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? Starting in a big company, trying to keep up. Mistakes happen.”

I clench my jaw.

Tara, bless her, mutters, “Oh my God,” under her breath, but I ignore Brittany, clicking through the recovery tool with more force than necessary.

“Honestly, no one expected you to nail it on your first real assignment,” she adds, her tone way too loud, like she wants everyone in the office to hear.

Ryan stiffens in his chair, his lips pressed together.

I finally turn to her, tilting my head, plastering on a sickly sweet smile. “That’s funny, Brittany. Because I don’t remember anyone asking for your expectations.”

A beat of silence.

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