Page 8 of Sin in My Inbox (Sexting Spark #1)

Avery

"Miss Carter! I think I deserve an explanation!" Jimmy planted himself in front of me, his face so dark and twisted from anger.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the storm.

"Jimmy, I'm really sorry," I kept my head down, trying to keep my voice steady. "My stomach was bothering me, and I got stuck in the bathroom for a long time."

"I think you were fucking around, trying to be clever and slack off!

" Jimmy glared at me viciously, spit nearly flying in my face.

"Since you love bathrooms so much, go clean every single toilet in this hotel!

Don't even think about clocking out until they're spotless!

And all the glass in the lobby—wipe it down again! Not a speck of dust better be left!"

"Yes, sir." I accepted the punishment submissively, but my heart felt strangely calm.

Weirdly enough, normally this level of humiliation would have me shaking with rage, but today, it felt like my heart was wrapped in some kind of soft protective barrier. Maybe the incredible experience I'd just had was so intense that by comparison, Jimmy's verbal abuse seemed pathetically weak.

After Jimmy finished venting his rage and stormed off, another familiar figure appeared in front of me. Esther, looking concerned. "Avery, you okay? Don't let that asshole get to you."

"I'm fine." I gave her a genuine smile, which actually made Esther freeze up.

"You—you're really okay?" She looked me up and down suspiciously.

I was about to make up some excuse when I suddenly remembered something important. "Esther, can I borrow something from you?"

"What?"

"A pair of red heels." I added somewhat embarrassedly, "Preferably something formal."

The moment I said it, I immediately regretted it.

A wave of mortification clogged my throat.

Was I seriously planning to go to that party?

I didn't even own a decent pair of heels to wear out in public.

The old flats on my feet that I'd bought two years ago were the most presentable shoes I owned.

Just imagining myself walking into some high-society gala wearing them made me feel ashamed and completely out of my league.

But Esther's eyes immediately lit up. She leaned closer, excitement sparkling in her gaze like she smelled gossip. "Avery, are you dating someone?"

"No—I just—" I instinctively denied it, but my cheeks started burning anyway.

"Don't lie to me!" Esther grabbed my hands excitedly. "Look at you! You definitely met someone you like! Come on, spill—who is it?"

Her sudden question made me turn bright red, stammering as I tried to explain but couldn't squeeze out a single coherent word. My throat went dry, and my palms started sweating. How could this count as dating? We'd only met once, and it was all because of an accident.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop teasing you." Esther laughed and patted my shoulder, still with that mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'll bring the shoes tomorrow, but afterwards, you'd better tell me honestly what the hell is going on!"

After Esther finished talking, she waved and walked away, her brown curls swaying gently in the hallway light. Watching her retreating figure, warmth flooded my heart.

Besides Mom, she was the only person in this city who could make me feel truly cared for.

But the warmth from friendship was quickly swallowed by heavy work and cold reality. After cleaning all the assigned bathrooms and those massive lobby windows, I dragged my exhausted body back to that run-down rental, night having already fallen.

I collapsed on the single bed, every muscle screaming in protest. The harsh cleaning chemicals had left my hands raw and burning, and the bruises from kneeling on cold tile for hours were throbbing dully on my knees.

Too late now to visit Mom at the hospital. I pulled out my phone, hesitated for a moment, then dialed her number. The phone rang for a long time before she picked up, her weak but gentle voice coming through the speaker. "Avery? Why aren't you sleeping yet, honey?"

"Mom, I'm really sorry." My voice was heavy with exhaustion. "The hotel had me work overtime today, so I couldn't come see you—"

"Don't say that, sweetheart." Mom's voice was weak but still full of love. "I know you work so hard. The nurses here take good care of me. You don't need to come every day."

Mom's thoughtfulness only made me feel more guilty. When she needed me most, I wasn't there.

"But—"

"Avery," Mom gently interrupted me. "I don't want you wearing yourself out. You take care, okay?"

"I will." I blinked hard, fighting back tears. "Mom, I love you."

"I love you too, baby." Mom's satisfied chuckle came through the phone. "Get some rest. Good night, sweetheart."

After hanging up, I bit my lip and silently swore that no matter how hard it got, I'd work my ass off and save enough for Mom's medical bills. I wouldn't let her worry about me anymore.

Maybe I could find a private tutoring job for the evenings. If I could still remember those damn math formulas, maybe I could make some extra money and ease the pressure of the medical bills.

But all of that would have to wait until tomorrow night's gala was over. No matter what, I'd already assumed Ella's identity—I had to see this charade through to the end. Once the party was over, I could refocus on my real life, find a new part-time job, and get back to the reality I had to face.

But just then, Dmitri's image invaded my thoughts again. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself, but couldn't stop his impossibly handsome face from floating through my mind.

Dmitri. His appearance was like an unexpected ray of light, briefly illuminating my dark life, giving me temporary escape from suffocating reality, and letting me taste long-forgotten sweetness and joy.

I remembered the warmth of his breath when he whispered in my ear, and deep inside my body, I could still clearly feel the unmistakable mark he'd left behind. Dmitri—I silently repeated his name in my mind. Thinking about today's intense lovemaking, I started getting wet all over again.

My fingertips gradually slipped toward my slick center, imagining his sweat-dampened face as I touched myself.

"Oh... Dmitri..."

The phone I'd picked up in that canvas bag suddenly started buzzing, shattering my inappropriate fantasy.

Could it be him? My heart rate spiked instantly, my fingers trembling slightly as I answered the call.

"Thinking about me?"

Dmitri's deep, magnetic voice came through the speaker, and my face immediately burst into flames. How could this man be so fucking cocky? But what made me even more ashamed was—he was right.

"Who is this?" I replied, trying to sound cool.

"The man who made you cry three times today." He answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world .

Jesus Christ, how could he say something so embarrassing? I covered my burning face with my free hand.

"Don't change the subject. You were thinking about me, weren't you?"

He was right. I'd literally just been fantasizing about him while touching myself. But I wasn't about to give in that easily.

"Wrong! Sir, you're such a narcissist," I muttered quietly, though I didn't have much conviction behind it.

There was a hint of barely contained amusement in his voice. "Thanks for the compliment, but you should know—you can't lie to me."

I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles going white as I tried to hide the heat burning from my cheeks to the tips of my ears.

"W-what are you doing?" I stammered, trying to change the subject and make my voice sound less excited.

"At some mind-numbingly boring business dinner." His voice carried obvious fatigue. "A bunch of fake people kissing each other's asses. Makes me sick."

I could clearly picture him right now—sitting expressionless in some corner, those ice-blue eyes coldly surveying the room with that aloof, untouchable attitude. That kind of pose had to be incredibly attractive.

"But," his voice suddenly turned low and suggestive, like feathers brushing against my eardrums, "all I can think about is you. The way you trembled underneath me, that sweet, broken sound you made when you said my name—"

"Stop it!" I was so embarrassed I almost dropped the phone. My cheeks were on fire. "How can you say that at a dinner party?"

Deep, pleasant laughter came through the phone—genuine joy from the heart. This was the first time I'd heard him laugh like this, not that cold lip curl, but real happiness. That sound made my heart skip a beat.

"Why not?" he asked back with interest, his voice full of laughter.

"You—" I protested with a red face, but without much conviction .

"Sorry, baby." He suddenly interrupted me, his voice carrying a hint of apology. "Someone's coming. I have to go."

I heard muffled conversations from his end, someone respectfully addressing "Mr. Belov," then the call ended.

I stared blankly at the darkened phone screen, a huge wave of disappointment washing over me.

That distant, glamorous world, those important meetings and clinking champagne glasses at fancy dinners—they all silently reminded me of the massive chasm between us.

But soon, a text lit up the screen:

Dmitri: good night, Miss Liar.

I held the phone, unable to control the upward curve of my lips.

The next morning, I'd barely stepped into the hotel's employee entrance when Esther grabbed me before I could even change into my uniform.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she mysteriously pulled me into an empty storage room corner, like she was afraid of being overheard.

She carefully pulled a shoebox from her canvas bag, lowering her voice.

"Here, the heels you wanted. These are my absolute favorites. "

I opened the shoebox to find a pair of burgundy stilettos. They weren't some luxury brand, but they were impeccably maintained—you could tell Esther treasured them.

"Thank you, Esther." I hugged her gratefully.