Page 134 of Sexting the Boss

That finally gets her to blink. She shifts her weight like she doesn’t know what to do with that answer.

God, she’s maddening. Stubborn.

Always arguing, always questioning?—

And I fucking love that about her.

“What’s wrong with you?” she mutters under her breath, like she’s wondering it out loud.

That’s the million-dollar question.

I smirk, just a little. “That’s a long list, printsessa. Not sure you want the full tour.”

She rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth twitch.

And just like that, the fire in her dims—just a bit—but it’s enough to make me want to touch her again.

Instead, I step back. “You’re not a prisoner, Sasha. But I’m not letting you go until I know you’re safe.”

She doesn’t like it. I know she doesn’t.

“I don’t think this is just about keeping me safe. You don’t trust me.”

I don’t say anything.

Because she’s right.

Trust has never come easy for me—not in my business, not in my past, and especially not with someone who could break through everything I’ve carefully built. And she already has.

“You keeping me here isn’t going to make me like you, you know?”

“That’s not my intention at all,” I say softly.

She exhales sharply, then glances away. “I know what it feels like to be controlled. To be told where I can and can’t go. What I can and can’t say. My dad was like that. My whole childhood was…” She trails off, then laughs bitterly. “Let’s just say, you’re not the first man to decide what’s best for me without asking.”

My chest tightens.

I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know.

She rubs her arms like she’s cold. “He’d smash things when he got mad. Lock me in the bedroom just so the house stayed quiet. My mom never said a word. She just kept wiping down the kitchen counters like she couldn’t hear him screaming in the next room.”

She’s not crying, but I see it—the way her voice shakes just enough, the way she keeps her eyes on the floor.

And it kills me.

Because I’m the reason she’s feeling like this again.

Like she’s trapped. Like she’s powerless.

I don’t know what to say.

I want to fix it, fix everything, but all I’ve done is make her feel caged.

So instead, I offer her the only goddamn olive branch I can think of.

“I can have your laptop brought here,” I say. “So you can work. At least feel normal.”

She looks up at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You want me to work from your mansion? Like I’m…what, your live-in intern?”

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