Page 4 of Sexting His Assistant

Ah… There it is.

The line that makes me want to throw things.

Handled.

As if the women he dates are just another item in the day’s operations. A car to be sent. A file to be moved. A problem to be smoothed over.

Sometimes I think Luka’s incapable of seeing people as actual human beings if they’re not immediately useful to him.

Sometimes I think that’s a lie I tell myself so I don’t notice the rest.

I pick up the tablet again and gaze down at the schedule. “So let me get this straight. I’m rearranging tonight, taking notes during some secret meeting, and then staying behind to babysit the woman you’ve chosen for dessert?”

His jaw tightens. “Don’t speak like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what.”

He’s right. I definitely do know what.

I keep my eyes on the screen, so I don’t have to look at him. “Who is she?”

“Alina.”

I scroll. “Which Alina?”

He doesn’t answer.

I look up slowly. “You cannot possibly expect me to work with that.”

“There are two?”

“There are four.”

He says nothing.

I turn the tablet toward him. “Alina Sokol, jewelry designer. Alina Petrova, divorced politician’s daughter. Alina Vostrikov, twenty-six, equestrian, allergic to saffron and commitment. And Alina Karelin, the brunette with the impossible cheekbones who cried in the Maybach because you took a call during dessert.”

Luka glances at the screen. “Karelin.”

I type the change in with far more force than necessary. “You know, one day I’m going to publish this diary.”

“No, you won’t.”

“It would sell.”

“It would get you killed.”

I meet his gaze. “By you?”

A pause.

Then he says, “By several women before I got the chance.”

That nearly makes me smile, but I don’t let it.

Instead, I close the schedule and set the tablet down. “Why me?”