6. Sasha
6
SASHA
I realize too late that my message never sent.
I had replied to my mystery texter almost immediately, still warm and buzzed with satisfaction. But sometime between me hitting send and me passing out, my phone must have lost signal or something, because now?
The message just sits there. Stuck.
Message failed to send.
I stare at it, annoyed and confused, my fingers hovering over the screen like I can will it into submission.
Of course, this would happen. Of course, the first time I do something reckless, something exciting, the universe immediately sabotages me.
I type up another message, but just as I hit send, my phone starts to buzz. For a second, my heart stutters, wondering if he’s calling me. No way. No way.
I pick up the call hesitatingly. “Hello?”
“Ms. Caldwell?” A stiff, professional voice I don’t recognize. “Report to the CEO’s office immediately.”
My heart stops.
The CEO?
I barely have time to process before the call disconnects.
I stare at my screen, frozen, because this has never happened before.
Nobody at my level gets called to the CEO’s office. Hell, most people don’t even see him.
And the only thing I can think is?—
Oh my God. What did I do?
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asks, taking one look at my face.
“I just got called to meet with the CEO,” I say.
His eyes widen. “What?”
Brittany, who’s in the next cubicle, gets to her feet. “Say what?”
I slowly get up from my chair. “Yeah.”
“Well, you better hurry. You don’t want to keep the CEO waiting,” Ryan says.
“Yeah, babe, best of luck,” Brittany calls out from behind him.
* * *
The elevator ride up feels like ascending to my execution.
The closer I get to the top floor, the more convinced I am that my life is about to end.
Maybe my mistake with the slide was bigger than I thought. Maybe I somehow emailed the entire company a meme instead of the report.
By the time I step into his office, I am already halfway to a nervous breakdown.
And then I see him.
And holy cow.
It’s him.
The man from the elevator.
The one with steel-gray eyes and a presence that takes up way too much space. The one who looked at me like he saw right through me.
I barely hear what he says. Something about the corrupted file. Something about fix it .
But my brain is too busy screaming, Oh my God, the CEO is hot .
Like, ridiculously hot.
Like, who let billionaires look like that? Hot.
I somehow manage to mutter an apology, nod like a total corporate drone, and escape before I do something humiliating, like accidentally call him sir in a tone that is not work appropriate.
By the time I stumble back into my department, I am visibly shaken.
And everyone knows it.
A crowd has gathered around my desk. Ryan, Tara, James, and—of course—Brittany, front and center.
She steps forward, looking concerned. “What happened, Sasha? What did he want?”
“What did the boss say?” Ryan asks.
James whistles. “Can’t believe you met the actual CEO.”
I swallow, still trying to process my life choices.
The actual CEO.
His name is Damien Zaitsev. I saw it outside his office.
“Okay, okay.” I lift my hands, trying to shake off the weird, lingering effect of being in his presence. “It wasn’t that serious.”
Ryan snorts. “Not that serious? You got called to the CEO’s office. Do you know how rare that is?”
Brittany tilts her head, her smirk sharp. “Yeah. What did he say?”
I shift in my chair, still replaying the interaction in my head. The way he looked at me, the air charged with something I don’t quite understand.
I shouldn’t have noticed how attractive he is. I shouldn’t be thinking about his voice, low and controlled, or the way his cold gray eyes made my stomach flip.
I shake my head, snapping myself out of it. “It was about the slides. The file was corrupted.”
Ryan’s face falls instantly. “Shit. Seriously?”
Before I can reassure him that it’s fine, Brittany pounces. She turns to Ryan, all too eager to pile on. “See, this is why you shouldn’t have given them to her.”
I stiffen.
Ryan frowns. “What?”
Brittany shrugs dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I mean, you’re embarrassed now, right? You should’ve handled it yourself. She’s new. She still has a lot to learn.”
A ripple of awkward silence spreads through the group.
Tara’s mouth parts slightly, like she’s ready to jump in, but Ryan speaks first. “I trust Sasha,” he says firmly, but there’s frustration in his voice now, like Brittany’s words got to him.
I press my lips together, my face heating.
Because—yes, I made a mistake.
But the way Brittany says it, so carefully worded, so sweetly venomous, makes it feel worse.
Like she’s not just pointing out an error—she’s making a point.
I force a smile, even though my stomach is twisting. “I’ll fix it.”
Ryan hesitates, then nods tightly. “Yeah. Just, uh…get it done soon.”
Brittany’s smirk grows, like she’s won something, and I want so badly to wipe it off her face.
Instead, I take a deep breath, turn to my computer, and get to work.
I keep my expression neutral, but inside I am fuming.
Brittany’s little she’s new, she has a lot to learn comment keeps echoing in my head, rattling around my brain like a goddamn mosquito I can’t swat away.
I take a slow breath, forcing myself to focus. This isn’t high school. I’m not going to let some petty queen bee moment ruin my day. I’ll fix the damn slides, prove I can handle my work, and move on.
Ryan has already moved on, flipping through his emails, but I can tell he’s annoyed. He probably thinks Brittany is right—that he should’ve just done it himself instead of trusting me.
And that? That stings.
I click open the corrupted file, fingers flying over the keyboard as I start troubleshooting. The faster I fix this, the sooner I can erase this entire humiliating morning from my memory.
I barely get through the first attempt at recovery before Brittany leans in again, voice syrupy sweet. “You know, Sasha, I get it,” she says.
I don’t look at her. “Get what?”
Her fake sympathy drips like poison. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? Starting in a big company, trying to keep up. Mistakes happen.”
I clench my jaw.
Tara, bless her, mutters, “Oh my God,” under her breath, but I ignore Brittany, clicking through the recovery tool with more force than necessary.
“Honestly, no one expected you to nail it on your first real assignment,” she adds, her tone way too loud, like she wants everyone in the office to hear.
Ryan stiffens in his chair, his lips pressed together.
I finally turn to her, tilting my head, plastering on a sickly sweet smile. “That’s funny, Brittany. Because I don’t remember anyone asking for your expectations.”
A beat of silence.
Tara lets out a delighted little snort, quickly disguising it as a cough.
Brittany’s eyes flash, but she covers it up fast, giving me a tight, forced grin. “Oh, I just meant it as friendly advice,” she says smoothly. “You know, so Ryan doesn’t get in trouble for trusting the wrong person.”
Ryan winces.
And that? That pisses me off.
Because I don’t mind Brittany being a jealous little snake, but I do mind her making me look incompetent.
I look her dead in the eye. “Well, good thing Ryan’s perfectly capable of making his own decisions.”
I slump into my chair, exhaling as I reach for my phone, just out of habit—and there it is.
A new text.
Unknown Number: Took you long enough to reply, printsessa.
My lips twitch.
For the first time since this morning, my mood lifts.
I bite my lip, thumbs flying over the keyboard.
Me: Excuse me? I was having a crappy day.
His response is instant.
Unknown Number: Poor thing. Need me to make it better?
A slow, lazy warmth spreads through my chest, curling lower.
Me: Tempting, but I don’t think you can fix corporate stupidity.
Unknown Number: Try me.
I smirk at my screen, half of my stress already forgotten.
It’s ridiculous.
This is ridiculous.
I don’t even know who he is.
But something about this—about him—is exactly what I need right now.
A distraction. A reprieve from the real world, where Brittany exists and my job is exhausting and I can’t afford more than a matchbox-sized apartment.
Me: Fine. Work was annoying. People were annoying. I was unjustly blamed for something that wasn’t my fault, and I had to prove I wasn’t incompetent. So, you know. Standard Wednesday.
Unknown Number: Idiots. Should I handle them for you?
I let out a startled laugh, earning a confused glance from Ryan, who’s still at his desk.
Me: As much as I’d love to unleash you on corporate America, I don’t think HR would approve.
Unknown Number: Who said anything about HR?
My stomach flutters, but I roll my eyes, playing along.
Me: Okay, mafia man. Relax.
The dots appear again, then?—
Unknown Number: So you do think I’m dangerous.
My pulse skips.
I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Something about the way he phrased that—smooth, knowing, like he’s aware that I’ve thought about it.
About him.
Me: I think you like pretending to be.
Unknown Number: And what if I don’t?
A slow shiver runs down my spine.
Jesus. How does he do this?
I shake my head, pulling myself back into reality.
Me: Well, if you’re planning my revenge, make it subtle. I need this job.
Unknown Number: Noted. No bodies left behind.
I snort, quickly covering it up when Brittany glances my way.
Me: You’re ridiculous.
Unknown Number: And yet, you’re still texting me.
I bite my lip, heart beating just a little too fast.
He’s right.
And I don’t want to stop.