Page 67 of Sexting the Boss

This woman is going to ruin me.

* * *

I should be working.

My desk is stacked with reports. Emails sit unread on my monitor. Somewhere, Oleg is probably pacing, wondering why I haven’t responded to whatever crisis of the day needs my attention.

But instead?—

I’m watching her.

Sasha Caldwell.

The security feed flickers in real time, a bird’s-eye view of the main office floor. Employees go about their day, most of them hunched over computers, absorbed in the monotony of their tasks.

But my focus is fixed on one screen.

The one showing her.

She’s at her desk, one hand absentmindedly tapping a pen against her keyboard, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stares at whatever is on her monitor.

Oblivious.

Completely unaware that she has my full attention.

I lean back in my chair, rolling my glass of whiskey between my fingers, studying her.

She’s too young.

That thought has been nagging at me since I put a face to my mystery texter.

Young enough to be my daughter, if I’d made different choices.

A familiar, bitter memory uncoils in my mind.

Nina.

I exhale slowly, gripping the glass a little too tight.

Twenty years ago, I could have had a child.

I found out too late.

By the time Nina told me, it wasn’t a confession—it was a past event. A decision she had already made without me.

She ended it.

And I let her walk away.

The thought should remind me to stop this now.

To delete Sasha’s number, to let her drift out of my focus before it’s too late.

But instead?—

I smirk.

Because I’m already in too deep.

---