Page 160 of Sexting His Assistant

I should leave it there. I should return to the garage files, to Karpov, to the car that dropped Misha at her building, to Alina.

“Go,” I say.

“I still have work.”

“Do it from home.”

“No.”

I give her a look.

She gives it back. “I’m not disappearing from the office in the middle of the day after being seen with you,” she says. “That defeats the entire point of the rules.”

“You were just in my office.”

“Because you kidnapped my diary.”

“I did not kidnap it.”

“You burned it alive.”

“It was paper.”

“It had feelings.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I know. It’s part of my charm.”

It is. Unfortunately.

I am in a meeting when Nina sends the first photo.

That alone tells me she is doing it on purpose.

The boardroom is full, half the men at the table pretending they are not afraid of the numbers in front of them, the other half pretending they understand them better than they do. Pavel stands near the wall. Dima is by the door. Meredith is taking notes at the far end with her usual calm expression.

My phone lights up beside my folder.

Nina: Since you suddenly have opinions about my wardrobe, approve or reject?

I open it.

The photo is taken in a fitting room mirror.

Nina is wearing a black dress.

Simple. Expensive-looking but not loud. Thin straps. Clean neckline. Tight through the waist and hips, with a slit high enough that I immediately forget what the man across from me is saying.

Her hair is pulled to one side. Her face is mostly hidden by the phone. Her bare leg is angled slightly forward, either by accident or because she knows exactly what she is doing.

I know which one it is.

I put the phone face down.

The man across from me says, “So if we move the acquisition timeline by six weeks, the exposure becomes manageable.”

“No,” I say.