Page 1 of Sexting His Assistant

1

NINA

By eight-thirty, Luka Kazan has already ruined my day.

I’m at my desk outside his office, sorting through the disaster that’s his schedule, when his door opens and he steps out like he owns time itself. Which, to be fair, he nearly does. Men twice his age wait for him. Ministers return his calls. CEOs smile too hard when they shake his hand. Women forgive him things they absolutely should not.

And me?

I’m apparently in charge of making sure none of them overlap.

“Nina,” Luka says.

I look up from my screen. “Good morning to you too.”

He ignores that. He usually ignores anything that sounds too much like a normal human exchange. “Come in.”

I rise, take my tablet, and follow him into his office.

His office is exactly like him—severe, expensive, and impossible to relax in. Dark wood. Glass walls. Clean lines. No personal photos. No clutter. No sign that an actual person spends time here. Only proof that money does.

Luka moves behind his desk and places a folder in front of him. He doesn’t sit. He never sits when he wants to make someone feel like they’re already under interrogation.

But I stay standing too. “What now?”

“You’ll clear tonight.”

I blink. “I’m sorry?”

“Tonight,” he says. “You’ll move everything after seven.”

I stare at him for a second. “Everything?”

“Yes.”

I let out a slow breath. “Do you know how unhelpful that word is in this office?”

Luka finally looks at me properly. “You’ll survive.”

“That is not the standard I aim for in administrative work.”

His face does not change, but I know that look. He thinks I’m being dramatic. I think he’s being annoying. This is the foundation of our professional relationship.

I tap my screen and pull up the evening schedule. “You have dinner at eight-thirty.”

“Cancel it.”

“With who?”

He glances at the tablet in my hand. “You tell me. You keep the records.”

I hate when he says that.

Not because he’s wrong.

Because he says it like it’s a perfectly normal thing for a woman to manage her boss’s dating life along with board meetings, internal briefings, and quiet payoffs to men who should know better than to cross him.

I open the private diary section I keep for him. Not the company calendar. Not the official itinerary. The other one. The one no one knows about except Luka and me.