Page 109 of Sexting the Boss
He shrugs. “Needy. Easy to buy. Easy to scare.”
My stomach twists, and I hold it down.
“I liked surviving,” I say. “I confused it with love.”
“You don’t get to rewrite it,” he snaps.
“I just did,” I answer.
His hand drifts toward mine like touching me is a right. My body recoils internally, but I don’t move my hand because I want him to see I’m choosing stillness.
He stops short.
“You miss me,” he says. “You miss someone who knows you.”
“You didn’t know me,” I say. “You knew how to manage me.”
His face tightens. “Don’t get brave. You always do this before you fold.”
“But I’m not folding,” I say. “I’m documenting.”
The word lands, and I see him register the threat.
He scans the room again, hunting for cameras and exits and attention.
I keep my voice level. “You texted me from an unknown number. You showed up at my work. You put your hands on me in public. You sent reminders to prove you can reach me.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he snaps.
“That’s your favorite sentence,” I say. “That’s how you made it normal.”
His fingers drum once on the table. My body remembers that sound, and I refuse to let it move me.
“You want money,” I say. “Or you want control. Pick one.”
“You owe me,” he says.
“I don’t.”
“You vanished,” he spits. “You embarrassed me.”
“I escaped.”
He pushes his chair back. “We’re done.”
“Sit down,” I tell him.
He doesn’t.
So I stand.
My knees shake, not because I’m going to fold, but because I’m standing in the same room as him and not giving him the ending he wants. The man in the corner rises at the same time, and Gavin’s eyes lock on the earpiece.
Rage flashes across his face as he realizes the room isn’t his.
“This was never about the conversation,” I say. “It was about the proof.”
His shoulders tense as if he’s weighing violence against witnesses, and I watch him decide.
