The Intern (3 page)

Perhaps it was because a bullet nicked me in the shoulder, and I blacked out, waking up a day later in the hospital.

We had cops and detectives flooding the house for days after. They checked into my dad’s background trying to link anything to a gang or a business deal gone wrong. It made no sense. My dad wasn’t a bad guy.

*   *   *

“W
hat book are we reading tonight, Princess?” my dad asked as he tucked me into bed.

“Hm...” I pretended to think aloud, but he knew which one. My favorite one. “Sleeping Beauty.” I smiled.

He smiled and shook his head. “Of course.”

He grabbed it from my bookshelf and sat next to me in bed. I leaned against my pillow as his arm wrapped around me.

He was the best at reading stories, always making the voices match the characters. I giggled every time he read it.

“The End,” he said as he turned the last page and shut the book.

“One more time?” I pleaded. “Please, Daddy?”

“Not tonight, Princess.”

“Will I ever find my Prince Charming?” I asked stalling, not wanting him to leave just yet.

“Yes, of course. And when you do...you’ll know he’s the one. You’ll know.”

I crinkled my nose. “I’m too young to be rescued just yet. I don’t need a hero.” I giggled.

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Be your own hero, Princess. Worry about finding the one that makes you happy. That’s all that matters, anyway.”

“You’ll always be my hero, Dad.”

*   *   *

T
he few memories I have left of my dad are priceless. He was a great dad, and I feel lost without him. I owe him this—not just for me, but for my family, too.

After six months, the detectives called to say it was a cold case. They had no leads, no evidence, and without a full license number to track the vehicle down, they had nothing.

My sister had limited information. She remembered the license plate vaguely. She remembered a QL on the plates, but it wasn’t enough. And although she explained what the car looked like, and they had narrowed it down, nothing in the system matched. It was probably stolen and sold for parts.

Even after asking the neighbors and finding a couple
maybe
witnesses, it never led to anything. Nothing did.

The only thing I can do now is find some information out on my father. That’s my ticket. Find out whom he was associated with, his past, his job—basically anything my eleven year old self didn’t know.

My mother wouldn’t tell me anything more about him. She said he was an insurance broker—simple nine to five job. However, she hadn’t worked since before Casey was born, so I found it very unlikely that we could afford to live in one of the most expensive parts of town. I was a kid, but I wasn’t stupid.

Bentley

Week One

“C
AN SOMEONE PLEASE explain to me why the fuck I’m wasting my afternoon looking at intern applications?” I pace my office overlooking the floor to ceiling windows. “This is why I have Paul and Logan,” I scream into my earpiece.

“You need to learn all aspects of the job, Bentley,” my father replies calmly. “If you wish to take over some day, this is all part of the training process.”

“I don’t want to take over. You fucking know that!” I spat back. I rock back and forth on my heels, trying to contain my temper. “I told you I’d go along with this damn charade if I got to do what I wanted.”

“And you will, son. But even bosses have to do the dirty work sometimes. It’s all part of the business. You’re a Leighton.”

I scowl every time my father says that.
You’re a Leighton.
Yeah...not by fucking choice.

“Fine,” I agree through clenched teeth. ‘This is the first and only time I do this.”

“Well, do a good job and you won’t have to.” Before I could retaliate, he hung up.

I whip my earpiece out and throw it on my desk. “Fucking interns.”

I unhappily drag my feet into the boardroom where Paul and Logan are already seated. I take the chair next to them and open the folder of applicants in front of me.

I hear them talking and wonder if I should say something, but before I can, the first applicant enters.

Shit
.

And then another.

Shit
.

And another.

Shit
.

They’re all shit. Every single one of them. They can barely make eye contact with me, yet they want to work for me?

I about give up and say to hell with it before Erika, my assistant, beeped in through the phone and announced there was one more.

Fucking great.

I grab the last applicant’s form and study it before she enters.
Casey West. 21. University of Nebraska. Senior.

I look over her letter of recommendations and see several from professors and assistants. Fast-learner, above average student, and dependability are all her glowing raves.

Well, she better fucking be, since she’s basically my last hope.

My jaw ticks the moment she walks in the room. I try to hold in a laugh as I take in her librarian-wannabe wardrobe. I know most girls don’t wear that. Hell, I was in college only four years ago. I know for a fact girls her age wear a lot
less
clothing.

She smiles and takes a seat as she greets us. Her voice is filled with passion as she begins talking about the company. She has sure done her research and then some. She’s the only one to go into depth about our charitable foundations, and I’m hit with an immediate attraction to her capabilities.

Her face is genuine and soft as she talks about herself and how she’ll make a good asset to the company. Her hair is light brown with blonde peeking through. Her skin looks silky and soft...and
holy shit
...I’m describing her looks as if it matters for the job. It doesn’t.

But it sure as hell doesn’t hurt.

She’s the most intriguing of all the applicants. Her self-confidence is obvious, but she’s also one of the smartest we’ve interviewed all day. The way her body shifts easily between the three of us to the way she passionately speaks about my father’s business has me feeling an uncanny attraction to her.

Once the interview is over, I sneak a glance at her ass as she walks out. Bad habit, I suppose, but damn if I didn’t like what I saw. I shift uneasily in my chair as I watch her leave, needing to tame my cock before I can stand up and walk out of here.

Truthfully, her application and her interview were by far the best I’ve seen all day, but I’ll need to dig into her background to double check she isn’t a fraud or a secret Russian spy.

*   *   *

“A
ll right, I’m out for the day,” I announce to Erika.

“Sir, you have a message here from a Professor Hennings.”

“Oh, shit,” I groan. It’s Casey West’s guidance counselor. I had called to verify all the information she gave us was correct.

“Do you want me to call back and schedule a time?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just call back tomorrow.”

I’m not in the mood to do anything else intern-related. I don’t even care for interns, yet it was ‘part of the business’ as my father said.

We’re a teaching company, son.

I didn’t need a damn intern, but since it’ll keep my dad off my back, I have to play nice.

We’re a team.

Be a team player.

And yadda fucking yadda.

If I have to deal with an intern every Saturday for four months, she should at least be hot—give me something to look at.

Before you go judging my character about noticing pretty girls, you should know I work in an office with seventy-five percent men. That’s a lot of sausage to be looking at. My college party days are way over, and even if I wanted to party, I wouldn’t have the time. The second I graduated, I was forced into working here and learning to ‘take over’ so my dad can eventually retire.

It isn’t that I hate working here. I love what I do, but I’m not ready to give up my life yet. I would’ve eventually joined the family business but at my own pace. I hadn’t been given the chance to live my life my way or make decisions on my terms.

The only thing that keeps me from jumping off a bridge is that I actually do love the job aspect of reporting and writing—case files are a close second—but reporting about the solved ones are the real highlights of this job. And my life. But now, there’s no intermission for girls in my life. The occasional hookup isn’t uncommon, but the last thing I wanted at my age was to be tied down.

To anyone.

I pour two fingers of whiskey before taking a seat on the couch. I grab the remote and flip through channels until something interests me. Nothing does, so I pour two more fingers of whiskey. I do this about two more times before I stumble into my room and pass out on my bed, fully clothed.

*   *   *

T
he week flies by, and I completely forget about calling all the interns references. It’s already Thursday, so I say fuck it and tell Paul just to pick one.

“You can’t seriously just say pick one? She’ll be working mainly for you.”

“Fine, the hot one.” I wave a hand in his direction as I continue typing away on my computer.

“And that would be?” He stands eagerly in front of my desk.

“I don’t know...Cathy, Corrine, Casey something. The last one,” I ramble.

“Ah...Casey West,” he offers.

“Yeah, she was the best one for it anyway.”

“And that ass wasn’t bad either,” he responds dryly.

My body ticks at the way he’s describing her. I know I’m not much better, but hearing it from another guy—especially Paul—fuels my urge to punch him in the face.

“Don’t say shit like that,” I growl as I slowly raise my head to look at him. The expression on his face turns from supercilious to one of being baffled.

“Relax man. Did you call her counselor or references?”

I want him out of my office so I can finish reports, so I tell him what he wants to hear.

“Yeah, yeah. All good.”

“Great, I’ll call her this afternoon and have her begin this Saturday.”

“Good, fine. I’ll be here, I guess.” I come in every Saturday, so I’ll be training her.

Fucking hell.

He leaves without another word, and I continue typing hard against the keyboard. There’s a huge case that’s just had a breakthrough. I hurriedly type it out so I can get it online ASAP. Most of our customers are online. We try to get our reports out first before anyone else can.

“Casey West will be here eight a.m. this Saturday,” Paul informs me over the phone. My body tenses up at the sound of her name. “Do you want your assistant here just in case?”

“In case what?” I scowl. “She can’t figure out how to work the coffee maker? No, I think we’ll manage.”

The truth is I want her alone without interruptions. Her personality and confidence have me completely captivated, and I want to know more about her—without my assistant getting in the way.

“You have to teach her more than just how the coffee maker operates,” he warns. “She could potentially want to apply here after graduation. By teaching students the ropes of the job, they’re already pre-qualified to work here.”

“Yes, I know, asshole,” I snap. “You don’t need to repeat everything my father tells me, you know?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t want to have the talk about the birds and the bees?”

“Screw off, man. I’m not a child.”

“You’re twenty-six,” he laughs. “You may as well be.” And then he hangs up.

Working here is a joke. No one takes me seriously being the son of the CEO. Everyone thinks I’m here because of daddy, and technically, I am, but I could’ve scored this job without his help. I double majored in college, earned above average grades, and did a lot of community work. I was no one’s charity case. I could fend for myself.

I’m browsing through emails on my phone as I ride the elevator down to the lobby. It halts on the third floor, and I back up to let more people on. I don’t lift my head up as the elevator starts again, but suddenly I’m hit with the sound of laughter.

It’s innocent, young, and vibrant. I’m intrigued, so I shift my body to get a better view of her. My eyes find the young girl in the front by the doors. I watch her from the side and notice she’s on her phone. She’s smiling wide and laughing with whomever she’s speaking to on the phone. The doors slide open, and I walk around a few people to exit, except the girl doesn’t move and I crash right into the back of her, pushing us both out of the elevator before the doors close. Instinctively, I wrap my free arm around her waist to catch her from face planting the floor. Her back is pressed against my chest and for a moment, I don’t want to let go.

Her phone isn’t as lucky. It slips out of her hand and lands on the lobby floor.

“Shit,” she curses and my arm frees her to bend down and grab it off the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” I begin apologizing as I step back. My eyes wonder to her bare legs and up her tone thighs to a pair of black workout shorts. She’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt as if she’d been running or working out. I can smell the fresh sweat on her, but it doesn’t turn me off. In fact, it does the exact opposite.

“That’s okay.” Her voice cracks as she turns around, and I finally get a good look at her. “Oh, Mr. Leighton,” she says surprised, and I immediately curse the bad luck that brings me to my new intern—
Casey West.

“Miss West?” I finally say as she stares up at me in silence. “I thought you weren’t coming until Saturday?”

“Hide your disappointment, Mr. Leighton.” The corners of her mouth perk up into a cocky smile. “I was just picking up the paperwork and doing all the background check questions.” Her witty personality is spot on just like the last time.

Everyone that works or interns at Leighton Enterprises goes through an extensive background check for security reasons. All of the files are confidential, and only journalists reporting on the stories can know the exclusive information.

“Ah, yes. Of course, the paperwork.”

Paul failed to mention she’d be here
today
...

She continues eyeing me, and I wonder if she feels the electricity between us as much as I do.