Page 1 of Selfie

Prologue

Spencer

My phone shakes violently in my hand as I stare at the send button. Once I do this, there’s no going back.

With one eye cinched shut, I peek at the naked picture of myself I’m about to send.I didn’t use a filter, but I did strategically angle my body to be more flattering. He won’t be able to seeeverythingfrom this photo, but still plenty. Way more than I’d show any other guy.

Nerves prickle every inch of my skin like a full-body tattoo. I’m blowing out short breaths like I’m preparing to dive into a pool of ice water.Am I really about to do this?

Shit. I don’t know.

The last time someone got ahold of a nude picture of me, it nearly ruined my life. I swore I’d never risk it again.

After tossing my phone onto the couch to avoid an accidental finger-slip-send, I pace across the living room of the guesthouse. For the millionth time in five minutes, I glance through the big bay window to the main house. I know my boss isn’t there. He’s out of town but I can’t stop glancing over to the main house like mere hope will bring him home. He still carelessly leaves the drapes open and lights on, making it so easy to see inside.The man has no concern over privacy. Then again, he has no neighbors nearby his massive private property.

But it’s better this way. The clock is ticking. If I’m going to do this, I have to send this tonight while he’s still away. I’d lose my nerve if I could see him right there, just across the pool.

“Let’s weigh the pros and cons,” I mutter to myself.

Con—It’s too late. Nathan’s over the back-and-forth. I missed my chance. I get fired, then my little sister and I get kicked out of this guesthouse.

Con—Another nude picture of mine gets released and it forces me to flee Las Vegas…again.

Con—He’s actually horrified at the picture and will run for the hills once he sees me, exactly as I am without darkness to hide the flaws I’ve run from for years.

Pro?There’s only one. After months of agony as this man’s assistant, we finally give in to what we want. Work has been hell because my boss is a plague. The way he smells. The way he smiles. The way he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth when he’s thinking too hard. Every image and scent of him is deeply etched in my brain. I’ve deduced I have two choices to get Nathan Hatcher out of my mind—a lobotomy, or jump his bones. Either way I’ll finally be free of my endless thoughts about him.

When I first started working for him, I thought the constant tension between us was mostly hate. I was near positive that my destiny was a spotlight feature onSnapped.But after all he’s done for me, I know this is different than hate. More than a crush.

This is a deep-seated need I didn’t know I had. I desperately wanted to be seen for who I really am, not who I’m trying to be. I’m praying once I show him, Nathan still wants what he sees.

My heart races and my fingers tingle with nerves as I pick my phone back up. Riding the adrenaline high, I send a few leading messages, but stall on the image.

Deep breath.

I tap and hold the send button, mashing my fingertip so hard against the screen that it flattens and loses color. I hold it there, savoring the last few seconds of peace before the excruciating waiting game begins.

The moment I lift my finger, everything happens at once. A cold wave of nausea replaces the butterflies in my stomach. The audibleswooptells me my image was sent. I watch the screen like a hawk, swearing if I blink, my whole world will come crashing down.

But he doesn’t open the message right away. Nathan’s read receipts are always on. He says it’s for accountability, but I think it’s because he likes for people to know when he’s ignoring them on purpose.

I treat my anxiety-ridden meltdown with a whole glass of ice water and an aggravated pacing session that feels like a workout. By the eighteen millionth time I check my phone, I see the worst thing possible. Sometime in the last sixty seconds since I previously checked my messages, the little gray “Delivered” receipt turned into “Read.”

Gripping the life out of my phone with one hand, I pop the very tip of my thumb in my mouth and clamp down with my teeth as I fixate on the screen. My eyes grow dry as my stare widens. I don’t dare blink, as if any slight movement could scare away his response. Still as a statue, I hold my breath, willing those three stupid dots to populate.

But I’m met with nothing. He saw it and saidnothing.

Maybe he opened this in a work meeting and had to shove his phone back in his pocket so no one could see. A meeting taking place at—I peek at the hanging clock on the far wall—10:15 p.m.Okay, not likely.Perhaps he’s driving on the highway and can’t respond until he’s parked. Except, Nathan hates driving. He’s the only man on the planet who doesn’t salivate over Aston Martins and Ferraris. No, this billionaire doesn’t collect cars, he collects buildings.

Well, there’s always the possibility that he glimpsed the picture and got so turned on he had to handle the matter thatcame upimmediately. He’ll respond back to me once the blood returns to his brain. That’d be more ideal than the far-more-realistic scenario which is that Nathan is over me. He never wanted to see this image, and come Monday, I am going to have the most humiliating day of work ever.

I smack my cheeks rapidly, trying to wake myself up from this nightmare. “Fuuuck,” I howl in agony. What have I done? What in the actual hell was I thinking?

Shit,what if he’s not alone?There was a block on his calendar tonight, but it was private from my view. When I asked him about it, he simply said, “Don’t schedule anything over it.”Dammit to hell.Of course that was a date. He probably met someone at the bachelor party last night and she’s lingering the day after. It’s past ten. I bet they are still sweaty in bed, sharing pillow talk until they are ready for round two.

I have no time to address the hurt I’m feeling. Humiliation is at the front lines of the current war in my head and I need to escape it. After grabbing the cozy faux-fur blanket from the living room couch, I march out to the pool deck. The custom resort-style pool is breathtaking. The palm trees are tall, surrounded by colorful tropical foliage. It’s stunning at night, lit up by colored spotlights. But I didn’t come out here for the view.

The lazy river flows by a stone water feature that trickles like a waterfall. Back in the bar area, the beverage fridge which needs maintenance hums loudly. After flipping the switch for the hot tub, I choose a lounge chair right by the edge of the tub. The jetsare so powerful the water overflows from the hot tub and noisily crashes into the infinity pool.

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