Page 125 of Sexting the Boss

Brittany presses her lips together, looking away. “I never expected it to go anywhere. But then I saw you two at the ball, and now he’s stomping in here like he owns you?—”

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingertips to my temple.

“That’s messed up,” I say quietly, voice trembling with fury. “You nearly ruined my life, Brittany. Do you get that?”

She exhales, fiddling with her nails, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, I’m sorry it got…out of control. But it’s not like you’re a victim. You had a choice. And you certainly made it.”

I can barely believe her nerve. “You’re unbelievable. You knew it was Damien. You hoped it would blow up in my face.”

She shrugs again, defensive. “I didn’t want you messing with Ryan. And I just…acted out, okay? I thought you’d send the dirty message, he’d be creeped out, you’d get humiliated, end of story.”

I shake my head, hardly able to look at her. “Just—stay away from me.”

She flinches, but her mouth hardens. “Fine.”

Then she spins on her heel and marches off, hair flipping behind her in a gold arc. I slump into my chair, pressing my shaking fingers to my forehead.

It’s well past eight by the time I leave the office, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. I stayed late to finish some pending work. Damien offered to drive me home, but I ignored his text. The last thing I need is for him to baby me.

Brittany’s words keep replaying in my head, looping over and over until I can’t tell if I’m more furious or hurt.I was jealous…I knew it was his number…I thought it’d just blow up in your face.

It’s not just about Brittany—though God knows, I’d love to strangle her—but about everything.

Damien, the texts, the sex, the way he looks at me like I belong to him.

What evenisthis anymore?

I can’t think straight.

I take the subway like always, but even the familiar clatter of the train doesn’t ground me. I sit there staring at the graffiti-stained walls whipping past, wondering how my life spiraled to here.

When the train jerks to a stop, I shuffle out with the crowd, my steps automatic. I don’t realize how dark it’s gotten until I’m already outside, pulling my coat tighter around me.

My neighborhood’s not bad, just…not great either. Too quiet this time of night. The main street’s still lit, but the shortcut I usually take—two blocks behind the corner store—is practically dead.

Still, I walk it. Because it’s habit. Because I’m too lost in my own head to think twice.

Brittany’s voice won’t stop echoing. I’m too deep in my thoughts to notice the car at first.

Black, nondescript, engine running low.

The air smells like cold metal and trash.

I glance up.

Two men step out from the alley. No hoods, no masks—just blank faces, dark clothes.

One glances at the other, then back at me.

“Hey,” he calls, voice too casual. “You lost?”

Every instinct screamsrun. My heart drops to my stomach. I don’t answer. I pick up my pace, shoving my hands deeper into my coat.

Wrong move.

I hear them behind me, fast. A hand clamps around my arm, yanking me back so hard I stumble.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t make this harder.”

---