The Billionaire's Intern

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 to keep her breathing steady.

He moved away from her then, his gaze steady on hers. “Interesting.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, keeping her tone steady. “Interesting.”

“Just what it means. Interesting.”

“Well, then.”

She reached past him and pushed the door open. The room was…well, as expected, she supposed, but unexpected in a way that she never could have anticipated either. A giant four-poster bed with black, wooden columns that nearly touched the ceiling took up most of the space in the room.

There was a desk in the corner, fashioned like an ornate writing desk, but obviously equipped for modern conveniences. In the opposite corner was a large wingback chair and a little table. Probably intended to be eaten at. Or not. Perhaps the person this room was designed to accommodate was supposed to eat out with friends or family.

But not her. Because her family had their own issues, her friends—such as they were—were gone. And if she dined out, it would just be Addison and the paparazzi.

“I only meant I will be interested to see if that changes,” he said, still in the doorway. He hadn’t crossed the threshold. “I have plenty of time to frighten you.”

The air in her lungs contracted, making it difficult to breathe.

He almost sounded as though he wanted to scare her. And the really strange thing was…not even that scared her. She was…numb. Numb except for that strange bit of something she felt when she looked at him.

“Could I have a few moments?” she asked. She needed time alone. Needed some time to try and orient herself to her surroundings. To her life.

“If you need to. But I expect to see you again in a couple of hours.”

“As you wish,” she said, unsurprised when the movie reference failed to make him smile.

He turned away from her, his broad back filling the door frame, before he closed the door behind him without giving her another glance.

She walked over to her bag, like a robot completing motions it had been programmed to do. She opened it and took out her computer, going to the wingback chair and setting the laptop on the small table, situating herself so that she was in a rather uncomfortable, rigid position.

She typed in her password and opened her email, waiting for the client to wake up and connect to her inbox. No new messages. Well, that sounded about right.

She thought back to all the people she’d known over the years. To cocktail parties and luncheons and teas. She did well in those venues. She always knew what to say, knew how to keep inoffensive conversation flowing.

But outside of those settings? She didn’t know those people. They didn’t know her. Were they in her position, a liability to the ease of a dinner party, she doubted she would be in touch either.

Because dealing with serious issues required a depth that none of her relationships seemed to have. She was aware of a lot of people, and a lot people were aware of her. She wasn’t certain if anyone knew her. If she really knew anyone.

Especially after discovering her father had a secret life…she wasn’t sure she knew anyone at all.

The closest thing to friends she still had were Nora and Harlow. And that meant there could be no more contact avoidance.

She took her phone out of her pocket, typing in a quick text.

Things are OK. Austin got me an internship with Black Properties, so I’ll be busy. Don’t worry.