Page 134 of Sexting His Assistant

He notices.

“I don’t hate it,” I say.

“You complain about it constantly.”

“That’s different. Complaining is a hobby.”

He watches me for a long moment. Then he says, “This is about Luka.”

My stomach drops. “No.”

“It is.”

“No, it’s about employment, financial independence, career trajectory, and the job market being horrible.”

“And Luka.”

I look away first. That’s a mistake.

Misha’s chair scrapes back. “Nina.”

I turn on him. “Stop.”

His face hardens. “Did something happen?”

My heartbeat slams into my throat. “No.”

His eyes narrow.

I hate how much that one word sounds like a confession when it comes out of my mouth.

“No,” I say again, stronger. “Nothing happened.”

He looks like he wants to say more, then stops himself.

That’s new.

Misha stopping himself is not normal.

He rubs his hand over his face and turns away, pacing toward the window again. “You can’t stay near him.”

The fear underneath the words is back.

That makes my anger shift.

“Because of Alina?” I ask.

He goes still.

Slowly, he turns. “You know.”

“Everyone at the office knows.”

His mouth twists. “Of course they do.”

I fold my arms. “You came here to tell me?”

“I came here because you need to understand what kind of man you’re working for.”