Page 14 of Sexting His Assistant

“Most things deserve it.”

“And what do I deserve?” The question leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

Luka’s fingers tighten once around the steering wheel. Streetlight spills across his face and vanishes again.

For a second I think he’ll ignore me.

Then he says, very quietly, “You ask dangerous questions.”

I look away first. Again.

By the time the car pulls up outside Maison, my pulse is all wrong and Daniil has sent me two more messages I haven’t answered.

Luka kills the engine and hands the keys to the valet without speaking. Then he comes around the front of the car and opens my door.

I look up at him.

He offers his hand.

Not because he has to, but probably because he knows exactly what it’ll do to me.

I place my hand in his anyway.

His fingers close around mine, warm and firm and… brief.

When I step out, he lets go immediately.

Professional, polite, and controlled.

Just like always.

As if that look outside my apartment never happened.

As if the air in the car didn’t shift every time my phone lit up.

As if I’m just his secretary and this is just another evening, and he is not the kind of man who could ruin me with very little effort.

He looks down at me and says, “Try not to cause trouble tonight, Nina.”

I smooth my dress and lift my chin. “You first, Luka.”

His eyes darken for one fractional second.

Then he steps aside and says, “After you.”

3

NINA

The hostess leads us through the main dining room with the kind of careful smile people reserve for men like Luka.

I follow half a step behind him, holding my tablet to my chest while every woman within sight tries not to stare openly.

One or two fail.

I don’t blame them.

Luka moves through the restaurant like he belongs to the room more than the furniture does. He has the coat off now, the sleeves of his charcoal shirt buttoned at the wrist, his expression cool and distant again. Whatever passed between us in the car is gone from his face.