Page 115 of Sexting His Assistant

The room goes quiet.

Luka starts to sit forward.

I put my hand on his chest immediately. “No.”

His eyes cut to mine. “Nina.”

“You are not getting up.”

“I need to make calls.”

“Later then,” I say.

He takes my phone from my grip. “Well, if I can’t use my phone, neither can you.”

He keeps it on the bed.

I scowl at him.

“I’m still your boss,” he tells me.

I roll my eyes. “I think we’re past that.”

He leans in, and my shameless body reacts immediately, my eyes fluttering close. “Yes, we are,” he says sexily.

Then my phone starts to vibrate against the bed.

Misha.

We both look at the screen.

My entire body goes cold.

Luka’s expression changes by half a degree. “Answer it.”

“No.”

“Nina.”

“No,” I hiss. “Absolutely not.”

The phone keeps ringing.

I stare at it like it is a bomb. Because it is.

A brother-shaped bomb.

If I answer, Misha will know. I don’t know how, but he will. He will hear something in my voice, some microscopic crack in my breathing, and the next thing I know, he will be here with a gun, a lecture, and enough emotional damage to ruin all three of our lives.

The call ends.

I exhale. Then a text appears.

Misha: I’m on my way.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

Luka watches me with insulting calm. “Problem?”