Page 51 of Boardroom Sins

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

The first time I eventhoughtof having sex was with a boy named Kenny Menendez in my junior year of high school. His parents were out of town and he invited me over to “study.” We both knew what that meant.

Or at least, we thought we did.

IthoughtIdid.

We made out on his basement couch for what felt like hours. His hands were sweaty and his breath tasted like stale Doritos. When he finally worked up the nerve to try to unhook my bra, he fumbled through at least half a dozen attempts before I took pity on him and did it myself.

Then his hand went down the front of my AE high-waisted jeans.

And I panicked.

Not because it felt bad. It didn’t feel bad. It felt… fine. Nice, even. His fingers weren’t painful, but just so awkward and over-eager.

But as he set about mashing my lady bits like buttons on a PlayStation controller, something in my brain just shut down. I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom and what she’d say if she found out. Or whether the basement door was locked. I couldn’t stop thinking about the weird stain on the ceiling above Danny’s head.

Eventually, I told him to stop. He did. He was nice about it. Disappointed, but nice.

We never talked about it again. He started dating a soccer player named Brittany Crawford two weeks later.

I’ve had opportunities since then, if I’d wanted to take them. A few dates in college before I dropped out. A guy at my gym last year who asked me to get drinks.

But every time it got close tothat, I found a reason to say no.

Too busy. Too tired. Too scared.

Alwaystoo scared.

And now, here I am. Twenty-five years old, still a virgin, and losing my shit over a man who almost definitely just finished having sex with a high-priced escort on his office couch.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.

This isn’t a game you should be playing.

Maybe Natasha was right. I should cut my losses and run. Find another job and forget all about Lukas Lazarev.

But I don’t run. I stay at my desk and keep working. I copy down names and dates and shipping codes until my brain feels like it’s swollen too big for my skull.

The sun shifts across the floor. Shadows lengthen. The building shudders and sighs around me.

Then Lukas’s door opens again.

I look up to see him walk out. He’s carrying something: A white envelope, thick and official.

He stops at my desk. He doesn’t say anything, just holds out the envelope.

His face gives nothing away as I take it from him, fingertips grazing. Those gray eyes are flat and unreadable. Then, still without a word, he turns and walks toward the elevator.

I watch him go. The doors open. He steps inside. He doesn’t look back.

When he’s gone, I look down at the envelope. My name is typed on the back in neat black letters.

Ms. Rae Everett

It feels heavy. Important. An envelope that changes things. Not quite my acceptance letter to Hogwarts—I’m about a decade and a half too late for that—but maybe something in that realm, sort of.

I slide my finger under the flap and tear it open. Inside is a single sheet of paper. The message on it is brief and to the point.