Page 159
Story: Sexting the Boss
Just a man losing his mind in the absence of her voice.
I don’t hit send. I know she didn’t come in to work yesterday. Her supervisor says she’s taken the rest of the week off. It’s been four days since I last saw her, four days since I left her at her apartment.
I stare at the message until the screen goes dark again, swallowing the words whole.
Texting her means pulling her back into a world I promised I’d protect her from.
And even if it kills me?—
I won’t break that promise.
The moment I pull through the gates, I know something’s wrong.
The estate feels off—too quiet.
No usual nod from the guard at the post.
No movement at the front porch.
Just silence.
I park the car and step out slowly, scanning everything.
The main door is open. Slightly ajar.
No.
I break into a run.
“Roman!” I yell as I push into the house. “Status!”
He meets me halfway through the foyer, jacket off, face grim. “We just finished sweeping the perimeter.”
“What happened?” My voice is low, dangerous.
He doesn’t answer right away, just jerks his head toward the west wing. “You need to talk to your mother.”
My heart thunders. I move.
I find her in the drawing room, seated but stiff-backed, a blanket around her shoulders even though she’s never cold. One of our security men is checking her blood pressure.
She looks up when she sees me. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice clipped. “A little shaken, but fine.”
“What the hell happened?”
“We don’t know how he got in yet,” Roman says from behind me. “But it was him.”
Lev.
My mother nods once. “He was inside. Walked right into the garden like he belonged there. Looked straight at me and smiled before one of your men fired a warning shot and he disappeared again.”
My hands curl into fists.
He came here.
He came to my home.
“I want every camera checked. Every footprint traced. Every goddamn window and gate?—”
I don’t hit send. I know she didn’t come in to work yesterday. Her supervisor says she’s taken the rest of the week off. It’s been four days since I last saw her, four days since I left her at her apartment.
I stare at the message until the screen goes dark again, swallowing the words whole.
Texting her means pulling her back into a world I promised I’d protect her from.
And even if it kills me?—
I won’t break that promise.
The moment I pull through the gates, I know something’s wrong.
The estate feels off—too quiet.
No usual nod from the guard at the post.
No movement at the front porch.
Just silence.
I park the car and step out slowly, scanning everything.
The main door is open. Slightly ajar.
No.
I break into a run.
“Roman!” I yell as I push into the house. “Status!”
He meets me halfway through the foyer, jacket off, face grim. “We just finished sweeping the perimeter.”
“What happened?” My voice is low, dangerous.
He doesn’t answer right away, just jerks his head toward the west wing. “You need to talk to your mother.”
My heart thunders. I move.
I find her in the drawing room, seated but stiff-backed, a blanket around her shoulders even though she’s never cold. One of our security men is checking her blood pressure.
She looks up when she sees me. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice clipped. “A little shaken, but fine.”
“What the hell happened?”
“We don’t know how he got in yet,” Roman says from behind me. “But it was him.”
Lev.
My mother nods once. “He was inside. Walked right into the garden like he belonged there. Looked straight at me and smiled before one of your men fired a warning shot and he disappeared again.”
My hands curl into fists.
He came here.
He came to my home.
“I want every camera checked. Every footprint traced. Every goddamn window and gate?—”
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