Page 261 of Sexting His Assistant

“He was the one who approached me. At first, it was simple. I was supposed to be in the right places at the right times. A restaurant. A private event. A weekend party outside the city. Places where Luka might appear without it looking like I was chasing him.”

I frown. “A weekend party?”

She nods. “More like a private retreat. Rich people, investors, people who wanted to be near power without admitting they wanted anything. Oleg said Luka was expected there. I was told to go, be seen, make myself useful, and if I got the chance, get close to him.”

“But Luka wasn’t there.”

“No,” Alina says quietly. “Misha was.”

The room goes still.

I sit back slowly.

She looks down at her hands. “I didn’t know who he was. Not then. He wasn’t introduced as Luka’s best friend. He was just Misha. Charming, difficult, too observant for his own good. I thought he was another wealthy man at the retreat.”

“That sounds like him,” I say before I can stop myself.

She gives the faintest broken smile, then loses it. “We talked that night,” Alina says. “Then we drank. Then we argued. Then…”

She stops.

I don’t help her.

She swallows. “Then we slept together.”

My stomach turns. It’s different hearing it this way.

I say, “Did he know you were there for Luka?”

“No,” Alina says quickly. “Not then. He knew I was hiding something, but he didn’t know what.”

“And you didn’t know he was close to Luka.”

“No. I found out later.”

“How?”

She rubs her hands together, shaking a little. “Oleg sent me more information after the retreat. He wanted to know why I hadn’t made contact with Luka. I said Luka hadn’t come. Then he asked who I had spent time with, and I told him only a first name.”

“Misha,” I say.

She nods.

“And then?”

“Oleg went quiet,” Alina says. “That was the first time I knew something was wrong. Later he sent me a photo. Misha standing beside Luka at some event. He asked if that was the man.”

I close my eyes for a second.

Alina whispers, “That was when I knew my jig was up.”

I open my eyes again.

She looks ashamed now. Truly ashamed.

“I had slept with Luka Kazan’s closest friend,” she says. “I knew if Oleg found a way to use that, he would. And I knew if Misha found out why I had been at that retreat, he would hate me.”

“But you kept seeing him,” I say.