Page 93 of Sexting His Assistant

I cross to his desk, place the envelope on the clean leather blotter, and set a small paperweight over the corner so it cannot slide.

Then I turn to leave.

That is when his eyes lift.

Only for a second.

He sees me. Not the envelope.

Me.

His expression changes by a fraction, maybe because he can finally read my face, maybe because I have stopped trying to hide it.

“Nina,” he says.

I don’t stop. Because if I do, everything inside me will break.

I walk out of his office, past my desk, past Meredith, past the elevator bay, and I don’t breathe properly until the doors close in front of me.

By the time I get home, I’m shaking with exhaustion, but still I don’t let myself cry.

I refuse to cry over Luka Kazan.

That’s where I draw the line, apparently, after allowing him to put his mouth on me in a boardroom and then spending two weeks sending him videos like a teenager with a crush.

But crying? No. I have standards.

Pathetic standards, but standards.

My apartment feels smaller than usual when I walk in.

I change into soft shorts and an oversized sweater because my body has had enough of professional clothing and emotional warfare.

Then I sit on the floor beside my bed and open my phone gallery like an idiot.

There are photos from before everything became complicated.

My coffee on my desk.

A blurry picture of Misha glaring at me because I took a photo of him eating. Screenshots of absurd calendar entries.

A picture of Luka’s office from six months ago, taken because the sunset behind the city looked beautiful through his window. His shoulder is barely visible in the edge of the frame, black suit, one hand holding a phone.

I zoom in on it.

Then immediately hate myself.

I swipe.

There’s a photo from the charity gala last winter. I’m in the background, laughing at something Meredith said. Luka’s at the edge of the shot, turned slightly toward me. He’s not looking at the camera, but straight at me.

My throat tightens.

No. No, I’m not doing this.

I lock the phone and toss it onto the bed.

The doorbell rings. I freeze.