Maisey Yates - The Billionaire's Intern - Part 4

In Part Fourof The Billionaire’s Intern , Addison walks away from her powerful billionaire boss—straight into the nearest bar. There’s no way Logan Black would come and find her there, surely. Especially after the hurtful things they said to each other. But then the door opens and she feels it…feels him . Now, if she’d only summon the courage to open her eyes…

Once you’ve finished the exciting conclusion to The Billionaire’s Intern , look out for the next installment of the Forbidden Series, billionaires who can look, but shouldn’t touch!

Collect all three novels in The Forbidden Series:

THE BILLIONAIRE’S INTERNby USA TODAY bestselling author Maisey Yates

THE BILLIONAIRE’S FANTASYby USA TODAY bestselling author Kate Hewitt

THE BILLIONAIRE’S INNOCENTby USA TODAY bestselling author Caitlin Crews

The Billionaire’s Intern - Part 4

Maisey Yates

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Caitlin and Kate, for being amazing partners in crime on this series. You made things that were hard feel much easier. I’m so thankful for your talent, your generosity and your friendship. Love you both.

The Forbidden Series

Billionaires who can look, but shouldn’t touch!

The Billionaire’s Intern

Part Four

What is she doing? Addison Treffen is sitting in a bar alone, drinking to the mess her life is in: her friend is missing somewhere overseas, her family has been ruined by her father’s scandal and her so-called love life consists in a brief affair with a recluse who continually punishes himself and pushes Addison away. And now she’s got her eyes closed tight, wondering if Logan Black is really standing at the bar, coming to rescue her from her pity party. Screw that. She needs to rescue herself. This is the new Addison. The strong woman who is finally realizing who she really is, not who everyone wants her to be. Logan taught her that. If he’s not there when she opens her eyes, she should march back to the hotel and…what? All she can think of doing is kissing him. Ah, crap. Come on, coward, just open your eyes and get it over with…

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Logan Black had a bad habit of turning up when he shouldn’t. He’d all but risen from the grave five years ago, and now he was here, when his social anxiety should make it impossible. The last two times he’d left the hotel had resulted in panic attacks, so of course she’d never imagined he would pursue her here in the outside world.

Unless he was a figment of her imagination.

He took a step into the bar, and Addison knew for sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I came to get you,” he said.

“Damn, girl,” Isobel, the bartender, said. “You’re in trouble.”

And Addison wasn’t sure if Isobel meant right this moment, or in a much broader, philosophical sense. Addison feared it was the second one. Well, and the first one too.

Though somehow the immediate threat seemed…desirable. Which went a long way in showing just how messed up she was in the head.

But oh well. Owning it. That was her new thing.

“How did you come to get me?” she asked. “I mean, all things considered.”

“It’s easier in the dark. Plus…” He looked around the room. “The bar isn’t exactly crowded.”

“I’m busy, though,” Isobel said.

Logan ignored her. “And I wasn’t about to leave you out here doing God knows what.”

“Yeah, I am a loose canon, Logan, I’ll give you that. Given my wild-child past.” She rolled her eyes. At him. At herself.

“You’re out here drinking,” he said. “Alone.”

“Are you going to lecture me on how unsafe it is? Because given that I’ve spent weeks holed up in a hotel with you, I don’t think I was much safer before I came out. With or without the alcohol.”

“Fair point, little girl,” he said, stepping down into the bar area, his hands at his sides. He curled his fingers into his fists and she watched the leather on the gloves stretch tight over his knuckles.

“I’m going to go to the back and…inventory,” Isobel said, her footsteps indicating a very quick scurry.

“I’m not a little girl,” Addison said, standing up and starting to walk past him. He reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her, the look on his face one of pure danger.

“You ran scared like one.”

“That was your goal, wasn’t it? You pushed me away. You did it on purpose.”

“Hell yes,” he said, lifting his other hand and dragging his leather-covered fingertip across her cheekbone and down her jaw, “it was my goal.”

“Then why are you here? And I mean seriously, how the hell did you manage?” She looked at him and, even in her slightly altered state, she could see he was affected by being here.

He took hold of her jaw, the leather cold against her skin. “Because I decided I didn’t want you to go. Fickle bastard that I am.” He released her, and she felt nothing but disappointment.

He was too controlled. Too contained. She wanted him wild.

“Somehow I don’t think fickle is a word often used to describe you.” She was pushing him, and she knew it.

“Not often,” he said. “But I find I want you gone. And at the same time I very much want you with me, so I’m not sure what else to call that.”

“Confusing.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

She crossed her arms under her breasts. “The other way had a lot of profanity.”

“That is the alcohol talking. You so rarely use profanity of any kind.”

“Only around you. Anyway, could be the cherries,” she said. “That was a lot of sugar.”

He shifted, wrapping his arm around her waist, his palm warm and open on her lower back, pulling her up against the hardness of his body.

He moved his hand, cupping her chin, holding her tight. “Is that so?”

He leaned in then, sliding the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, the wet friction sending a shiver through her body. He leaned in, delving deeper, tasting her. Savoring her.

He pulled back, a low sound rumbling in his chest. “Like candy.”

She shivered, his voice melting all the cold places inside her. Making her wonder why in the hell she’d let him push her away. Because he’d been doing it on purpose, and she’d known it. But it had been so easy to just take it all and turn it into a big ball of anger in her chest. To stop feeling things for him and just let herself fill up with all the rage she’d stuffed down deep and just let it go.

Because it was the safest thing to do. It helped fortify all the walls around her heart. It made it so she didn’t care so much about a man who didn’t want her to care about him. It made her not feel pain and sorrow over a father who didn’t deserve one tear, let alone the flood of them that were building up inside her.

Her eyes filled and she squeezed them shut, shaking her head. “Don’t give me that,” she said. “I’m not sweet. I’m just a spoiled rich brat who hasn’t ever earned a thing in her life or suffered in any way at all. And you’re just letting me get away with it. Because guess what, Logan Black? You are not that scary.”

She was daring him. Daring him to get mad. So she could get mad. So she could do something with the ache that was building behind her eyes. She was daring him to get rough, because rough was easy.