Page 34 of Sexting the Boss

Unknown Number: Yeah, yeah, you have high standards, blah blah. But do you ever screw up?

Me: No.

Unknown Number: Liar.

My grin widens.

Me: If I did, no one would dare point it out.

Unknown Number: Ah, true power. I dream of a life where my mistakes just magically don’t exist.

Me: You complain a lot for someone who still chooses to show up every day.

Unknown Number: You say that like I have a choice. My rent is atrocious. If I didn’t have this job, I’d be selling feet pics online and praying for the best.

Me: And where is this soulless corporation that’s slowly draining your will to live?

Unknown Number: Oh, you wouldn’t know it. Just another faceless empire run by men in suits who probably never have to fill out their own paperwork.

I smirk.

Me: Try me.

Unknown Number: Zaitsev Industries.

Everything stops.

I blink. Read it twice.

A slow, steady pulse of realization spreads through my chest.

She works for me.

Of all the faceless strangers in this city—of all the people I could have fallen into this with—she works at my company.

I exhale, tapping my fingers against the desk.

Me: Small world.

Unknown Number: Yeah? You heard of it?

I smirk, though my mind is already spinning.

Me: You could say that.

Because now?

Now, I need to know who the hell she is.

8

SASHA

I shouldn’t be smilingat my phone.

I shouldn’t be checking it between emails, sneaking glances at it in meetings, half-distracted when Ryan stops by my desk to ask about lunch.

I shouldn’t feel that little flutter every time it buzzes.

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