The Billionaire's Intern. Maisey Yates
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With all that tied up in her dating life, she hadn’t really looked at men recreationally.
Good-looking guys didn’t thrill her. Usually. This one seemed to be choking her.
“Great, thanks,” she said. “I have some things to do.”
“You have some work to do.”
“Could I get a moment to set up?” she asked.
He assessed her, his expression unreadable. Well, this was going to be a long few months. “I suppose.”
“You’re going to be fun,” she said, “I can tell.”
“No. I won’t be. Ask anyone who knows me.” He pulled open the office door and held it for her and she walked out in front of him, a whisper of electricity shimmering over her skin, a shot of nerves settling in her stomach. Having him behind her made her uncomfortable. And she couldn’t quite figure out why.
Maybe it was because in many ways he seemed to resemble a predator more than a man.
There was something untamed about him, which was a strange thought, here in the middle of a highly polished hotel. That added to it. Heightened the contrast.
They walked down the long, dimly lit hallways. The wall sconces casting glimmering light onto the polished black marble, the tiles shimmering like an oil slick. The deep purple walls reminiscent of an old-fashioned gaming house. Rich with decadence and sin. A shining mix of Victorian Gothic elegance with an edge of modernity. Several stages of civilization represented under one roof, with a man that seemed to possess only the thinnest veneer of the civilized.
And no shoes.
Or maybe she was crazy, and because of that, she was overthinking. Considering all she’d been through lately, that thought wasn’t completely without merit. Actually the fact that she wasn’t showing signs of crazy seemed to worry the people in her life a lot more than witnessing her having a mental breakdown might have.
Which reminded her that she owed Nora a text. Nora was sort of acting as “big sister by default”, since Harlow was in Europe working an internship in the European branch of her father’s law firm.
Another pocket of the world no doubt hit hard by Jason’s uncovering, and his demise. She wondered how it was there. How Harlow, and everyone, was doing.
Harlow had been Addison’s assigned big sister in the sorority house when Addison first pledged, and she still seemed to feel the need to take care of her.
As Harlow’s best friend, Nora was filling in that overprotective gap since Harlow had gone off to Europe. It was hard for Addison to feel close to people. It always had been, with her father’s presence in her life looming so large, his expectations so daunting she had a tendency to hold people at a distance.
Harlow was the person she’d been closest to at school, and when she’d graduated two years earlier, Addison had felt alone again. Even more so since she left the country.
It had only been six months since Harlow left, and it felt like a lifetime since they’d all stood around, toasting her success. Now she doubted Harlow was feeling so triumphant. She had to wonder if her friend felt it was all tainted since the revelation about Jason. Harlow had always been involved in human rights volunteer groups at school, and over the last year, her focus had been turned to human trafficking, and how she could use her law degree to combat it. All a bit too close to Jason’s poison of choice.
That made her want to avoid Nora and Harlow even more. She was embarrassed. That she was connected to Jason. That she cared about Jason. That part of her grieved him.
But, as so few people seemed to care, unless they shared the same last name she did, she supposed she should try and placate Nora with an “I’m fine” text.
It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to hide. For the next decade. Maybe right here in Logan’s hotel. Possibly forever. So she could find a way to be Addison Treffen again. Rather than Addison Treffen, the daughter of the man who victimized countless women, and who was shot in front of her by a sniper. And the girl who then huddled in the bathroom until the police came, and even then had to be essentially forced out of the corner she’d wedged herself into.
Maybe if she hid under the covers long enough, she would find out she’d been sleeping the whole time. That it was all just a dream. Stranger things had happened, surely.
Maybe she would wake up and find out that her father wasn’t evil. Distant, yes. But not a pimp. Not dead.
She stopped, reaching up to touch one of the ornate gold light fixtures, the metal burning the tip of her finger. She hissed and pulled her hand back. The heat seeping into her fingertips didn’t lie. She was awake.
This was reality.
Her head started to thud, the floor feeling unsteady against her feet.
She looked back at her escort, who was standing a few paces behind her, his face shrouded in shadow, light casting a spray of brightness over his broad chest and shoulders, his neat black tie. Then he stepped forward, the light bursting over his face, sharp cheekbones, blue eyes and his lips…
They were still wicked. As if they belonged to a playboy he’d been. But his eyes…they were cold. The chill reaching in and making her shiver deep inside.
She didn’t know what to do with that. She wouldn’t know what to do with that on a normal day, and today was not a normal day.
“So…I don’t know where I’m going.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. A smile attempt. She’d seen him do it a couple of times now, and each instance rang false. “End of the hall.”
“Okay, thank you.” She turned away from him and continued walking, stopping at the ornate black door at the very end of the corridor.
“You can program the door with your own code,” he said. “It can be whatever you like. You can do it all from your phone. Now, I can override it, but I probably won’t,” he added, reaching past her and entering in number on the keypad quickly.
“You probably won’t?”
“Never say never.” The light on the door handle turned green, and then he stood back, as if waiting for her move.
“You really could say never to invading my privacy,” she said.
“With the way my life has gone so far, I never discount anything. Now go in. Or go home.”
“Is this my out?” she asked, her throat dry.
His lips curved upward again, and this time, there was no mistaking—at all—that this wasn’t a smile in the way other people meant them. This was predatory. Deadly. Once again, she had the strange feeling she’d gone from the frying pan into the fire.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
“No,” she said, trying