Wrong Number, Right Man

My life was a carefully curated disaster. I was an underpaid assistant by day and a chronic over-sharer by night. My best friend, Chloe, was the only one who got the real, messy, desperately-horny-for-my-unobtainable-boss version of me. Our text chain was my therapy.Until my thumb slipped.I sent that message—the one detailing exactly what I'd let Alexander Thorne do to me on his mahogany desk, in ...