GWYN Ellis looked up from the monitor and directed her gaze at Nadine Billaud, the public relations officer for Donatelli International.

–This is you, oui?
Gwyn was speechless. Her heart pounded furiously against her ribs at the recognition, and a cold sweat dampened her skin.

It was her, and she was naked, there on the computer monitor, the outline of her buttocks clear as dawn, framed by the pink thong. Everyone had a butt more or less like hers, but she was extremely selective about who she showed it to. She certainly didn't send pictures like that to men she barely knew, much less post them online.

The photo changed, revealing a naked torso with a crumpled sheet draped over its thigh. That, too, belonged to her. The way her breasts were outlined with the movement of one arm as she ran her hand through her hair was deliberately erotic.

It seemed as if he had been making love all day.

Then the last one arrived. She was lightly tugging at the elastic band of her thong at her hips, as if she were debating whether to take it off or leave it on. A golden light enveloped her, and her skin gleamed dully as if coated with oil. Suddenly, she realized. Those photos had been taken at the spa, while she was getting a massage to try to soothe the ache between her shoulder blades that had been tormenting her for weeks. She was getting up from the massage table, relaxed and comfortable, imagining herself in intimacy. The table had been deliberately blurred, as had the flowers in the background, so that the setting could be whatever the viewer wanted to imagine.

His stomach sank. He must have been hyperventilating because a distant whistling sound could be heard.

He wanted to throw up, lose consciousness, die. "Good Lord, take me now."

" Mademoiselle?" Nadine insisted.

"Yes..." she stammered. "It's me. Could you please close that?" she begged, mortified, and looked at Fabrizio, her supervisor. He was sitting next to her with
a disdainful expression–. Why are you showing me that here?

"—he asked—"Couldn't we have done this somewhere more private?"

"They're online. Anyone can see them. I was the one who told Nadine," Fabrizio responded mercilessly.

He'd been watching them? Great.

His eyes filled with tears.

–But you knew this could happen when you sent the photos to Mr. Jensen, didn't you?

Nadine hadn't stopped looking at her over her shoulder since she'd entered his office, while Fabrizio's gaze seemed to tell her he knew what she was hiding behind her respectable suit. And she began to fear for her job. Her palms were sweating.

"I didn't take those photos," he said as firmly as his voice allowed. "Do you really think I would send photos of that nature to a client? But they are... For the love of God!"

He heard the door open behind him and shot up to slam Nadine's laptop shut. If only pictures could be deleted the same way.