Page 91 of Sexting the Boss

No one speaks.

We all just…stare at each other.

Then—Melanie, still processing, blurts out, “Oh my God. Are you here to kill her?”

Damien lifts an unimpressed brow.

Melanie whispers under her breath, “Jesus.”

I snap out of my shock. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Damien’s eyes drag over me slowly, taking in my extremely unsexy pajamas, before landing back on my face.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

He is enjoying this.

I hate him.

“I don’t recall excusing you from our plans,” he says, calm as ever, like showing up uninvited is a totally reasonable thing to do.

“I never agreed to it.” I can’t believe words are coming out of my mouth.

“Put the dress on, Sasha.”

I blink. “The—” I gesture at myself. “The duck pajamas aren’t doing it for you?”

His lips twitch. He’s trying not to laugh.

Instead, he takes another step closer, lowering his voice. “If you’re not ready in ten minutes, I’ll dress you myself.”

Melanie chokes.

I throw my hands up. “You can’t say things like that in front of my roommate!”

Damien does not look remotely sorry.

Melanie, on the other hand, looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.

I storm toward my bedroom, fully prepared to slam the door shut and pretend this entire moment never happened.

But Melanie isn’t done with me.

The second I grab the dress box and move past her, she steps in front of me, arms crossed, blocking my escape.

Her eyes flick toward the kitchen, where Damien is now casually leaning against the counter like he owns the place. Then she turns back to me, her voice low and urgent. “Who. The hell. Is he?”

I press my lips together, refusing to answer.

Because honestly? I don’t know how to explain this.

I could tell her the partial truth—that he’s my boss, that this is all some ridiculous, miscalculated office power move.

Or I could tell her the real truth.

That Damien Zaitsev has been in my head for weeks.

That I’ve sexted him without knowing who he was.

---