Page 48 of Sexting the Boss

Because there’s nothing to show.

Oleg locks the door behind him, double-checking the security system before he leans against the kitchen counter. “Tell me you have food.”

I gesture to the half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Drink your dinner.”

Roman chuckles, reaching for the bottle without hesitation, while Oleg groans. “I should’ve stopped for a burger.”

“Next time, eat before you show up uninvited,” I say dryly, taking a sip of my own drink.

He groans, shaking his head, but Roman just chuckles and pours himself a glass.

Business first.

“Surveillance came back from the parking lot,” Roman says, setting down his phone on the counter. “Whoever took that shot knew what they were doing.”

Oleg mutters a curse, rubbing the back of his neck. “So it was planned. Someone had intel.”

Roman nods, taking a slow sip of whiskey. “They knew the blind spots in the cameras. If we didn’t control the security footage, we wouldn’t have even noticed.”

I roll the glass in my palm, thinking.

An inside leak isn’t out of the question. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Any leads?” I ask.

Roman shakes his head. “Nothing solid yet. But I have people digging.”

I exhale, setting my glass on the counter.

Roman watches me, too closely. He’s built like a tank, with dark, close-cropped hair, sharp hazel eyes, and a scar that runs from his temple down to his cheek—a souvenir from a past life neither of us speak about.

Roman is calm, efficient, and ruthless when necessary. He’s kept me alive more times than I can count, and if there’s anyone I trust to handle a threat, it’s him.

“You should take this seriously,” he says.

I arch a brow. “I am.”

“You don’t look like a man who just had a bullet fired at him.”

I smirk. “Maybe I’m just hard to kill.”

Oleg groans. “Here we go. He’s deflecting. This is what he does when he doesn’t want to deal with something.”

Roman hums, swirling his drink. “You’re right. Something’s off.”

I don’t reply.

Because if I do, they’ll see right through me.

I’ve been distracted, but not by this threat.

By a woman I’ve never met.

A woman whose name I don’t even know.

Oleg leans back against the counter. “You should go to the estate.”

“No.”

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