Page 20
Story: Sexting the Billionaire
Whether I get the job or not, that's a victory worth celebrating.
As the elevator reaches the lobby, I check my phone out of habit and see messages from Olivia:
How was the fancy water??? Did you dazzle them with your brilliance??
Another text immediately follows:
CASSIE WHERE ARE YOU??? I'm dying here!
I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how I'm going to explain any of this to her. How do you tell your best friend that you suspect you’ve just interviewed with—and shook hands with—the mystery man you accidentally sexted?
I stumble out of the revolving door into the bright afternoon sunlight, where Olivia is waiting with two coffees and an expectant expression.
"Well?" she demands, thrusting a cup toward me. "How did it go? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again. The truth feels too surreal to speak aloud.
"I think," I say faintly, "I'm going to need something stronger than coffee."
"That good or that bad?" Olivia asks, linking her arm through mine.
"I honestly have no idea."
Because that's the truth. I've possibly either landed my dream job with the most attractive man I've ever met—a man who's already read my most explicit fantasies—or I've just destroyed my career in the most spectacularly awkward way possible.
Either way, I have a feeling my life is about to get very, very complicated.
Just when I feel like I’m in the clear, my phone buzzes.
As I glance down, I nearly trip.
Welcome to Elysian, Cassie. And no, sweetheart, I'm not Camden. I'm much more… perceptive.”
I know exactly who it is.
And the worst part?
My pulse doesn’t spike from fear.
It spikes because part of me wants him to say more.
6
ROMAN
THE GAME BEGINS
Thirty minutes into the Thursday executive meeting, it happens.
Zara slides a portfolio onto the conference table with her usual efficiency.
"The final Creative Director candidates for Lumière, as requested."
I nod without breaking rhythm on the quarterly projections I'm dissecting for the board.
Multi-tasking is practically my superpower—a necessity when running a multi-billion-dollar company at forty.
I flip open the portfolio with more interest than the situation warrants.
As the elevator reaches the lobby, I check my phone out of habit and see messages from Olivia:
How was the fancy water??? Did you dazzle them with your brilliance??
Another text immediately follows:
CASSIE WHERE ARE YOU??? I'm dying here!
I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how I'm going to explain any of this to her. How do you tell your best friend that you suspect you’ve just interviewed with—and shook hands with—the mystery man you accidentally sexted?
I stumble out of the revolving door into the bright afternoon sunlight, where Olivia is waiting with two coffees and an expectant expression.
"Well?" she demands, thrusting a cup toward me. "How did it go? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again. The truth feels too surreal to speak aloud.
"I think," I say faintly, "I'm going to need something stronger than coffee."
"That good or that bad?" Olivia asks, linking her arm through mine.
"I honestly have no idea."
Because that's the truth. I've possibly either landed my dream job with the most attractive man I've ever met—a man who's already read my most explicit fantasies—or I've just destroyed my career in the most spectacularly awkward way possible.
Either way, I have a feeling my life is about to get very, very complicated.
Just when I feel like I’m in the clear, my phone buzzes.
As I glance down, I nearly trip.
Welcome to Elysian, Cassie. And no, sweetheart, I'm not Camden. I'm much more… perceptive.”
I know exactly who it is.
And the worst part?
My pulse doesn’t spike from fear.
It spikes because part of me wants him to say more.
6
ROMAN
THE GAME BEGINS
Thirty minutes into the Thursday executive meeting, it happens.
Zara slides a portfolio onto the conference table with her usual efficiency.
"The final Creative Director candidates for Lumière, as requested."
I nod without breaking rhythm on the quarterly projections I'm dissecting for the board.
Multi-tasking is practically my superpower—a necessity when running a multi-billion-dollar company at forty.
I flip open the portfolio with more interest than the situation warrants.
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