Page 18 of Sexting His Assistant

“No.”

“Then I’m struggling to see the incentive.”

Luka hands back the tablet. Our fingers brush, brief and useless and impossible to ignore. “Consider it character building.”

“I have enough character,” I mutter.

“I know,” he says.

The way he says it makes me look up.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on me, steady and dark and far too aware.

My phone buzzes again. This time I step back first and look down.

Daniil: Are you always this cheerful or am I getting special treatment?

Without thinking, I smile.

A mistake.

Because Luka sees it.

He says nothing for a second, then, “There it is again.”

I lock the phone. “What?”

“That smile.”

I try for breezy. “Maybe I’m in a good mood.”

“Were you?”

“What?”

“In the car,” he says. “Before he texted.”

I stare at him.

He waits. He really is unbelievable.

“No,” I say. “I was trapped in a luxury vehicle with my employer.”

Luka’s mouth shifts, just slightly. “And now?”

“Now I’m trapped in a luxury restaurant with him.”

He takes one step closer. And my spine goes rigid.

“And yet,” he says quietly, “you’re still smiling.”

I should answer. I should say something smart and sharp and safe.

Instead, the hostess knocks lightly and opens the door before I can get there.

“Mr. Kazan,” she says, “your guest has arrived.”