Page 135 of Sexting His Assistant

“I already know what kind of man Luka is.”

“No, you don’t.”

That hits a nerve.

“Right,” I say. “Because I’m just the little sister who makes coffee and answers phones.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s always what you mean.”

“I mean you don’t know everything.”

“And you do?”

“More than you.”

I laugh, short and sharp. “Congratulations.”

His eyes flash. “He made some chick pregnant, Nina.”

I freeze. The words are ugly from his mouth.

Maybe because I know he’s trying to make Luka smaller.

Maybe because I don’t know if he believes it.

“He didn’t,” I say before I can stop myself.

Misha’s expression changes. “Why do you sound so sure?”

I go cold.

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“I mean,” I say quickly, “that we don’t know that.”

“We?”

I hate this conversation.

“The office,” I say. “People are talking. Nobody knows anything.”

Misha watches me for far too long. Then he says, “Don’t defend him.”

“I’m not defending him.”

“You just did.”

“So now you don’t trust me around him?” I ask.

His face tightens. “This is not about trust.”

“It feels like trust.”

“It is about danger.”

“Mine or his?”