The gala was all gold light and fake smiles, and I was the fucking help.
I carried champagne I couldn't drink and smiled at people who would have laughed if they knew one thing about me.
One more night, I told myself. Then I could go home and hate everyone in private.
Dominic stood on the stage with a microphone in his hand.
Dark suit, no tie, jaw like a blade. He looked at the room the way he looked at me, like he already owned it.
Dominic: This company was built on trust. On knowing who belongs and who doesn't.
I kept my eyes on the tray and my back against the wall.
Then the screen behind him flickered and changed.
My photo filled the whole ballroom.
Black lace. My tits half out of it. My own hand down the front of my underwear.
The room went quiet for exactly one second.
Then it laughed.
Someone in the back yelled, who's the lucky boss.
A woman by the bar said, that's the assistant, loud enough for her friends to hear.
My face went hot, then cold, like someone poured ice down my spine.
I looked for Britt. My best friend. The one person in this room who was supposed to have my back.
She stood near the stage with a glass of wine, and she didn't look surprised at all.
Britt: Oh my God. Sasha. What did you do?
Dominic looked up at the screen. Then he looked across the room at me.
He didn't look angry. He looked amused, like I'd finally done something interesting.
Dominic: Well. It seems my assistant has a side business.
The crowd laughed again, harder this time.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the whole tray at his head and watch the shit hit the floor.
Instead I set it down so my hands wouldn't shake.
That's when Britt walked to Grayson.
My ex. My best friend. Standing together like they'd been waiting all night for the show.
Sasha: Britt. Tell them it wasn't me.
Britt: Tell them what? You sent a naked picture to your boss. Everyone can see it.
She smiled at me. Then she took Grayson's face in both hands and kissed him.
Not a peck. A real kiss, tongue and everything, right there in the middle of the floor.
My stomach dropped like the floor had opened under my heels.
I looked at Grayson over her shoulder, and he was already looking at me.
Grayson: What? You thought I was yours?
I stepped toward him. Habit, maybe. Stupidity, probably.
He caught my wrist and squeezed until I felt the bones grind together.
Grayson: Don't touch me. Not ever again.
Then he shoved me. My hip hit the table and every glass on it rattled.
Britt laughed, low and mean, the way she used to laugh at other people's bad dates.
Britt: Everyone already knows what you are, Sash. A slut with a company phone.
Grayson: Say one word about tonight and I'll tell them you begged for it. Then I'll come find you.
I believed him. My wrist was already turning purple.
The band started again. People went back to their drinks.
I was the joke they'd repeat all week, and Britt would be the one telling it.
And Dominic was still watching me, like I was the best part of his speech.
He came down off the stage and stopped close enough that I could smell his cologne.
Dominic: You planned this. All that crying in my office, and you still wanted an audience.
Sasha: I didn't send that slide, you bastard.
Dominic: Then who did? Your friend over there? She looks like she's having a good night.
He caught my chin and lifted my face so I had to look at him.
His thumb dragged along my jaw, and I hated how my pulse jumped at the touch.
Dominic: Stop shaking. You're not the one who should be ashamed.
Sasha: Then why the fuck are you smiling?
He didn't answer. He just smiled wider, and something in me caught fire and refused to go out.