Page 8 of Sexting the Boss

Nothing too traumatizing.

Brittany leans back against the couch, twirling her wine glass lazily, her voice just loud enough to command attention. “You know, it’s funny,” she says, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the rim. “I probably know half the people in this company. Like, personally.”

A couple of people nod along, because of course she does.

Brittany knows everyone.

She’s the type who remembers birthdays, drops casual inside jokes with the executives, and always seems to be at the right parties with the right people.

“Oh, yeah,” she continues, grinning like she’s just remembered something amusing. “My uncle actually works with the board. So, you know, it just kind of runs in the family.”

Ryan makes a noncommittal noise, swirling his drink. James rolls his eyes.

I sip my drink, tilting my head slightly. “That makes sense.”

Brittany’s smile falters for just a second. Next to me, James snickers.

I am mortified. I can’t believe I said that out loud.

A few rounds later, the bottle spins toward me, and I feel every pair of eyes turn my way.

Brittany smirks. “Sasha,” she purrs. “Truth or dare?”

I hesitate for exactly one second.

Then—because I am a fool who makes bad decisions for no reason—I lift my chin slightly and say, “Dare.”

A few people cheer.

Ryan mutters, “Oh boy.”

Brittany’s smirk grows.

She leans forward, eyes gleaming with mischief, her wine glass balanced between her fingers. “All right,” she purrs, dragging out the syllables just enough to make my stomach twist. “I dare you to…”

She pauses dramatically, eyes flicking around the circle.

Then she grins. “…send a dirty text to a random number.”

The group erupts in laughter and groans. Someone whistles. James chokes on his drink.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re backing out?” Brittany tilts her head.

I exhale sharply, already regretting every life choice that has led me to this moment. “Fine. Whatever.”

Brittany’s smirk widens, and she reaches for my phone. “Let me pick the number.”

I instinctively clutch it closer. “Uh, I can pick my own random number, thanks.”

“Oh, don’t be boring.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s no fun.”

Before I can argue, she snatches the phone out of my hand with a laugh, her fingers moving way too fast across the screen.

“Brittany—”

She holds up a finger. “Shhh, let me work.”

I stare in horror as she taps out a completely random number, then glances at me slyly.

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