Page 180 of Sexting the Boss

“You were supposed to be watching her.”

“We were, sir. But something’s wrong.”

No shit.

I hang up without another word.

I don’t even realize my hands are shaking until I look down and see my knuckles white around the phone.

I don’t remember walking out of the hospital.

I just know I’m outside, breathing air that feels too thick, too hot, too wrong. My stomach churns like I swallowed broken glass. I fish my phone out again with the barest hope of a miracle and hit Sasha’s number.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

The pit in my gut spreads like rot. She’s not just ignoring me. She’sgone. No signal. No trace. No word.

If anyone’s touched her?—

My phone buzzes again.

Different number. Familiar. I almost don’t answer, but my thumb moves before my brain does.

“Nina.”

“Damien.” Her voice is tight. Not smug for once. Serious. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“It’s about her, isn’t it?”

I go still.

She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Sasha. You can’t find her.”

A chill rips down my spine. “How the fuck do you know that?”

There’s a pause. Too long. “I need to see you,” she says, lower now. “There’s something you need to know. I’ll explain everything. But not on the phone.”

My pulse ticks faster. My fingers curl into fists at my side.

I should hang up.

I should tell her to fuck off.

But I don’t.

Because she knows something.

And I’ll be damned if I waste another second while Sasha is out there—alone.

“Text me the address,” I growl. “If you’re wasting my time?—”

“I’m not.”

She hangs up.

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