Dominic

I’m working late, trying to get through the last of today’s urgent decisions so I can start with fresh business in the morning, when my phone buzzes.

“Yes, Francine, I know I shouldn’t live at the office,” I mutter as I grab my phone and look down at the screen.

But to my surprise, it’s a text from Presley. And even more surprising, it reads: heeyyyy sexxxy, followed by a smattering of eggplant and fire emojis. What the hell?

I do a double-take to confirm that the sender really is her. Maybe someone took her phone as a prank? Then I remember that she got her promotion today, and text back:

I take it you’re having a night out to celebrate?

The response is immediate:

im so drink haha

I snort, my lips twitching. I’ve seen her tipsy before, but drunk is new. Getting to glimpse this new, uninhibited side of a woman who’s normally always so disciplined is . . . charming.

I can tell. I’m glad you’re having a good time—you’ve earned it.

thank you soooo much I love you

doesn’t really mean that. It’s just the

come celebrate with me

without

why

losing my shit and this promotion saved my

I really owe you

You got the job because you were the

if I wanna

answer that, and in the thirty seconds I spend deliberating, she adds something

whatever you want with

like to say is “I’m on my

you still

She replies:

least dance

headway on work tonight . .

sounds like fun. Where should

• • •

the corner from our

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