Maisey Yates - The Billionaire's Intern

“Of course,” she said.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, and she believed it. Because with the way all the other men at school had been treating her since the news about her father came out, it wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d retracted the marriage talk and offered a contract for a purely sexual arrangement.

But he hadn’t done that. Eddie was self-interested, but he had a shred of honor. He couldn’t help the self-interest part. It was bred into him. He was a Howell, after all, and they would be working hard to distance themselves from the scandal. If it were even possible. Proving Jason had been hiding his little prostitution ring from firm partners was going to be difficult.

She had a feeling Eddie was ready to burn bridges between the two of them, and between himself and his father if necessary.

“I know you don’t, Eddie,” she said. He was hurting her, though, and that shocked her. She’d felt numb to his abandonment during the funeral, during these past weeks, but this was so final.

She’d lost her friends— such as they were—all except Nora and Harlow. Lost her sorority. Her place at school. And losing Eddie was like having one of the last lifelines cut, leaving her hanging over an unknown abyss, staring into the blackness. Wondering how far she had left to fall.

She’d never thought of herself as being dramatic, but here she was, indulging in a little bit of it.

“If you ever need anything, Addison, you can call me.” And she could hear, beneath his smooth civility, the desperate plea for her to never use his number again.

“Thank you,” she said. “I will.” And she hoped that he could hear, beneath her own civil tone, her resolve to never speak to him again. Her resolve to never even do a Google search of his name to check on his progress.

They hung up, and she felt numb, and still a little bit as if she’d been hit in the head.

That was over. She was out of the sorority. Harlow hadn’t even returned her email. Her boyfriend had dumped her.

And she was living in a hotel with a man who didn’t wear shoes.

All in all, things had yet to start looking up.

* * *

Addison reappeared in his office, two hours later, looking pale, but as polished as she’d been the first time he saw her.

She’d changed her clothes, he noticed. From the pristine white of earlier to a gray dress that conformed to her curves, sleek and wrinkle free. She was everything clean and unruffled. And he found it endlessly fascinating.

Imagining what all that softness would feel like beneath his hands.

Remember the last time you touched a woman?

He curled his hands into fists, rubbing calloused fingertips over his palm. A reminder of why he didn’t deserve softness beneath those hands. Not after what he’d done.

She cleared her throat and clasped her hands in front of her. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

“Answer the phone when it rings,” he said, distantly aware that his tone was harsher than was called for in such a neutral scenario, unable to correct it. “You can sit at my desk.”

“And you’ll sit?”

“Elsewhere.”

“Okay.” She moved over to his desk and sat, rolling the chair forward, looking very clearly confused.

He picked up his iPad from the desk, then walked over to the other side of his office and sat on the floor, resting his back against the wall.

She looked up but didn’t say anything before looking back down. She wasn’t going to betray the fact that she thought his actions were odd, and he wasn’t going to explain.

He looked down at the tablet in his hands and started going through his email. He preferred email because it put the control for the pace of interaction in his hands. Phone calls were not something he enjoyed, but he could handle them. Though having Addison do it instead would certainly make for an easier day.

He stood after a few minutes, pacing the length of the room, restless energy fueling his veins while Addison sat at his desk, hands folded on the polished surface as she stared straight ahead. Rigid. Unmoving.

The sight of her made his clothes feel heavy. Made the weight of being civilized feel too damn intense.

She was such a stark reminder of what was expected of him. Of people like them.

Of all he couldn’t do.

The phone rang and she reached over and picked it up. “Mr. Black’s office. Yes. He’s here.”

Well, damn, that negated her presence. He didn’t want the phone passed to him.

He arched an eyebrow and she gave him a befuddled look. Then she cleared her throat. “Um…is he free to meet with you? Downtown? I don’t…uh…”

He took the phone from her. “Black.”

The voice on the other end was familiar, a contractor he’d been working with on his newest project. Converting a row of brownstones into a luxury boutique bed-and-breakfast.

“Mr. Black, I want you to come down to the site, if you’re available. There are some things I need you to see.”

Logan shifted, imagining what it would be like to go down to the brownstones today. No. The decision was made that quickly.

“I am unable to make it today,” he said. “We can hold a video conference if that suits you.”

“There’s a lot of damage to the pipes. We’re going to need to replace some. I thought you should see it for yourself.”

“I am busy,” he repeated. “It will just have to be handled.”

He hung up the phone and turned back to Addison, who was looking slightly shocked now. Finally he’d succeeded in rattling her cool.

He wondered how long it would take before he scared her off completely.

“What did I say about phone calls?”

“You said I was supposed to field your messages. You didn’t say anything about what I was supposed to do with the calls.”

He held in a growl and turned away from her, prowling across the length of the office. “Always say I’m too busy to take a call, even if I’m sitting in the corner playing a game on my phone.” Not that he even had games on his phone. “I don’t like to talk to people until I initiate it.”

He turned back to her, expecting to find an expression of wide-eyed fear on her face. Instead he saw nothing but serenity.

“Okay,” she said, keeping her hands folded in front of her, her shoulders straight.

“I don’t like things to be unpredictable,” he said. “I make the phone calls. People come to me. I prefer to do business on my own terms.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” she asked.

“What does that mean?”

“Everyone prefers to do business on their own terms. I mean, everyone prefers to live life on their own terms, but that doesn’t mean it’s possible to do all the time.”

“It is if you’re rich enough,” he said.

“Was that important?” she asked.

“Why?”

“It was someone with direct access to you, which I get the feeling you don’t give easily,” she said. “That leads me to assume it’s someone who might have important business with you.”

“And if it was?”

“Are you too busy to see him?”

“You’ve been here for two and a half hours. And for two hours of that time you were taking a nap in your room. What makes you think you’re qualified to comment on how I run my business?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to comment. Or ask you what’s going on.”

“You want to play question and answer?” he asked. “We can do that. But you’ll play too.”

“Well, that would be one way for us to get to know each other,” she said, smiling brightly. Too brightly in his opinion. Her top layer was starting to show cracks.

She was a funny creature, Addison Treffen. She made him want to tear the facade from her. She made him want to see what she was beneath the polished exterior. He had a feeling there was steel beneath the cream and silk on the surface. He wondered if anyone else knew, if anyone else had seen it. He wondered if Addison herself even knew.