The comments are even worse. I only make it through the first few.
Fuck yeah, I’d fuck up that filthy slut.
$100 says she’s the cheapest whore in town.
Now there’s a cum-slut if ever I’ve seen one.
My stomach churns. I’m going to be sick. Sure, it’s fun and a little hot when Zayne gets all possessive and calls me his little slut. But that’s in private, behind closed doors, where we can have fun without anyone seeing or judging us. This?
This is something else entirely. I shut the window, unable to look at it anymore. Andy saw this. How many other people?
I grab my keyboard so fast it screeches against the desk, a horrible plastic on plastic sound.
Clove: Where did you get that? Who sent it to you?
Andy: It circulated through the whole office this morning. First there was a spam email, then another message online.
Before I can ask for more details about the second message, though, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I suck in a deep breath and look up to find my boss, Stacy, standing beside me, arms crossed, a subtle frown on her face.
“Can we speak privately, Clove?”
My heart sinks down through my throat, a slow progression toward my stomach. My boss never asks to speak in private. Not unless it’s something extreme, like our annual reviews or the conversation we had a couple of months ago about my annual bonus this year, assuming I do all my work well and exceed expectations in the workplace.
Somehow, I have a feeling I won’t be getting that bonus. Not after this.
I rise on unsteady feet and follow her into her office, my hands quivering at my sides. This isn’t my fault, I remind myself. Lots of people take semi-nude selfies. It’s not my fault it fell into the wrong hands, wound up somewhere it shouldn’t.
Someone must have hacked my phone, or maybe my iCloud account, where I store all of my pictures automatically. They must have seen this and sent it around the office because….
Well, I can’t quite figure out why yet. But that doesn’t matter. Not right now. What matters is surviving this meeting with my job in tact.
My boss closes the door behind her gently, and I stand in front of it, chest heaving. She takes a seat at her desk. Normally, when we meet in private, this is when she’d gesture at the chair across from her and ask me to have a seat too, so we can speak on the same level, eye-to-eye as colleagues.
She doesn’t invite me to sit down now. Instead, she steeples her fingers under her chin and rests them against her lips, eyes piercing through mine. For a long, tense moment, silence reigns.
Then, she sighs.
“Clove, this is a family business. It’s been run by the same family for the last 150 years, and much of the content we produce is kid-friendly, books meant to enhance families’ knowledge and lives. We pride ourselves on our core values. Our dedication to safe learning environments and to getting the job done. Normally, you do just that. But this….” She drops her gaze to her desk. Her eyes flicker to her computer screen, and I wonder if she still has the website open. If she’s staring at the photo of my half-naked body right now. My cheeks light up bright red with shame and fear. “Clove, what were you thinking, posing for this photo?”
My cheeks continue to burn, but in my defense, I raise my chin a little higher. “With all due respect, Stacy, this was a private photograph. It was never meant for public consumption, so I didn’t think—”
“No, you most certainly did not think.” She heaves a sigh. It sounds regretful. Almost as if she hates to do this. Yet here she is, doing it anyway. “Clove, this picture has been circulating across our company’s social media pages. Someone with the password to our accounts has been posting it with all sorts of awful captions…”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Nevertheless, all the public can see is the external view. And right now, to our customers, it looks like one of our employees has begun using our site as her own personal advertising service to try to recruit… well… to try and start a side venture of her own, shall we say.”
My mouth falls open at that last line. I’m still thinking about the caption on the photo, all the nasty comments people left beneath it. “I did not… I would never…”
“I know that, Clove.” Stacy finally reaches across the desk to offer a hand. I give her mine, and she squeezes my fingers gently. Then she releases me with a regretful sigh and leans back in her chair. “But there’s only so much we can do right now, as a company.”
“Can’t we find out who’s doing this? Fight them?”