The Intern Serials: Complete Box Set Read online

  “Dude, Senator Montgomery, breaking news. Conference Room. Now.”

  I jump up from my chair and follow him down the hall. We’ve been following the story for weeks now with his wife’s embezzlement scam.

  “Who’s on PR?” I ask as soon as I walk in.

  Joe sits taller as he hears my voice. “I am. Waiting on a return comment.”

  “Who’s getting ready to write the report?”

  “I am, sir,” Toby responds right away, already typing away on his laptop. “As soon as we get the press release comments, it’s going live.”

  “Who’s making sure we even get a comment?” I ask, taking a seat across from Toby. “We need to act fast. They are going to get hounded.”

  “Michelle is emailing me right back.”

  “What’s Plan B when Plan A goes to shit?”

  “When have we ever needed Plan B?” Ryan muses. “It’s fine, Bentley. Chill.”

  “Trust me. You never know when you’ll need a Plan B.”

  “Well, right now, everything is fine. We have insider information that the Mrs. didn’t work alone,” Ryan reports as he continues to stare at the TV.

  “My money’s on the senator,” Toby offers. ‘There’s no way she was smart enough to pull that off on her own.”

  “Humph. I wouldn’t doubt women with an agenda,” I retort. All their eyes are on me as I realize I’ve said it aloud. “Never mind. Can we just get the story, please?”

  We work the rest of the afternoon, building our story and using insider resources for our investigation. If embezzlement is proven, Mrs. Montgomery will be facing jail time. Better yet, if we prove it, it’ll get my dad off my back at least.

  I attend the advanced kickboxing class Wednesday night and get my own ass kicked. It feels good putting my anger into something, using it to release the frustration and tension building up inside me.

  I attend class twice a week for the next two weeks—feeling better and better each time.

  “You probably don’t need a beginner’s class anymore,” Maya says at the end of class. “You could probably teach it by now.”

  I smile back at her, taking in her petite, athletic body. She’s naturally tan with dark brown hair and bright brown eyes. She’s been very professional, which has made me feel the most comfortable coming to class each time.

  “Thanks. I have a lot of issues to work through.” I grin, grabbing my bag and tossing it over my shoulder.

  “I see that a lot in here. A lot of ex-girlfriends and old jobs as their muse.” She smirks.

  I give her a small smile, not wanting to divulge into my personal life. “I bet. It’s a good stress reliever.”

  “It sure is. See you next week.”

  I wave goodbye as I head out of class. Before I met Ceci, I might’ve tried to hook up with her. Offer to take her out for a drink: code for one-night stand, or since I’d see her in class again, it’d be multiple one-night stands. But I hadn’t even felt the urge. Perhaps Ceci took more from me than I thought.

  Chapter Four

  Cecilia

  IT’S BEEN TWO months since Bentley kicked me out of his office. I can still feel his hands on me, his lips and tongue licking up my neck, and the tightness of him inside of me. I feel the butterflies, the shivers, and the quivering my body convulsed into as he made me climax. I remember everything my body felt, everything I felt for him.

  I know I owe him an explanation. He deserves one. But how do you tell someone you manipulated, lied to, and potentially caused him and his company’s reputation damage that the feelings you have are real?

  I haven’t slept. Barely ate. I lay in my bed and listened to the same sad song over and over again, self-torturing myself into exactly what I deserve.

  I finally graduated high school, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like I was leaving a part of my life behind. A part of my life I’d never get back.

  I was no closer to finding information out on my dad as I was the day I left Leighton Enterprises.

  Simon’s still trying to help, but so far, nothing. The file tells me everything about that day that I hadn’t remembered, so at least I was able to get that much out of it, but other than that, I feel defeated—a failure. I don’t have closure about my dad’s murder, or about the way Bentley and I ended things. Rather, how he ended things.

  So when I find myself parked outside of Bentley’s condo, I contemplate walking up the steps to his door. I feel guilty about what I did, what I’ve caused him, but most importantly, I feel guilty he doesn’t know the truth—the whole truth.

  I wrap a sweater through my arms and take three deep breaths. The sky is pitch-black with only a few scattered stars lighting my way to the front of his condo.

  I walk up the stairs to his door and stare at the “7” nailed on his door. Reluctantly, I bring my hand up and knock three solid times.

  My heart is beating so hard that I can barely hear my own thoughts trying to talk me out of this, telling me to quickly run in the other direction.

  I wait in anticipated silence, nervous to see Bentley again. I’m not exactly sure what to say or if he’ll even let me say anything at all. In fact, I won’t blame him if he slams the door in my face.

  I hold my breath as Bentley opens the door. I study him carefully and immediately noticed how casual he’s dressed—ripped, faded jeans and a tight, dark blue t-shirt. He looks so fucking good that I have to remind myself to exhale before speaking.

  “Hi,” I say softly. His eyes are burning a hole into mine—hard and unreadable. I chew my lip as I watch him—unmoving and silent. My eyes drop, not wanting to see the pain in his face. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, but…I had to see you one more time. You deserve an explanation.” I pause. “The truth,” I clarify.

  “Who are you to tell me what I deserve?” He crosses his arms, his feet part, hovering over my petite size. He’s intimidating, but I can’t let that scare me. I need to do this.

  I swallow and briefly looked back up at him. “I’m nobody. You’re right. I just wanted you to know one thing. Although the internship was a fake, and I lied about my background, my feelings were one hundred percent real. I never lied about the way I felt about you. I never expected to meet someone like you, and then when you started coming on to me—”

  “Don’t you dare put that on me, Ceci. Don’t you dare blame me for that.”

  “I wasn’t!” I shout louder than I mean to. “Sorry…I don’t blame you for anything. I got in too deep and then my feelings for you grew stronger and I-I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Did the truth ever come to mind?”

  “Yes…” I whisper. “I mean, I wanted to. I knew it was the right thing to do, but I couldn’t. I needed that internship.”

  “You manipulated your way into my company. You stole and lied. You could’ve cost me everything.” His voice is calm but stern. He still sounds as angry as the day he kicked me out of his office.

  I shiver as the cold wind passes through me. My nerves intensify as our conversation heats.

  His lips form a hard line, and I wonder if he’ll give me the chance to explain.

  “I know I don’t deserve any time from you, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to explain.” I swallow and look up at him. “To explain the whole truth.”

  He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck and thinking before he replies. “Fine. You have five minutes to tell me something real.”

  I nod graciously. He backs up and gestures for me to come in. I quietly thank him as he takes my sweater off and hangs it up.

  I follow him into the kitchen and sit on a barstool. I lean my elbows on the countertop where Bentley has kissed and licked my bare skin. It brings back memories—memories that I wish were still my reality.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” he asks in a low tone.

  “Sure. Thank you.”

  I watch him intently as he grabs a bottle of water from his fridge and hands it to me.

  He leans agai
nst the counter across from me, crossing his arms once again. He’s looking at me with no emotion as he waits for me to talk.

  I take a sip of my water and clear my throat nervously. “Well, you know that my real name is Cecilia West and that my father, Brock West was murdered seven years ago.” It hurts to say it aloud, but good in a relieved kind of way. Like saying it to someone else will make the pain real. “I witnessed it and since then have been trying to figure out the events that took place and who killed him. I’ve been searching for anything that links anyone to him. Things I wouldn’t have known at that age.

  “I have limited information and even worse memory of that day. A bullet nicked me and left a scar on my shoulder.” I caress it lightly out of habit, remembering how he used to kiss it so tenderly. “I used Leighton Enterprises as my chance to dig into his files, or any files that would give me information.” I tightly close my eyes and exhale slowly. “I selfishly used you to get inside for my own personal gain. I needed closure…and at the time, I was willing to do anything to get it.”

  I pour my heart out to Bentley. I can only hope he’ll sympathize with me enough to not take legal action. However, I assume he would’ve already if he planned to. But I have no idea where his head is at right now.

  He shakes his head in disbelief, or shock. Either way, I see his body tense at my confession.

  “There’s nothing I can say to tell you how truly sorry I am, Bentley. It was all suppose to be a simple get-in, get-out type of job. Learn my way around, dig into files, and find what my mother won’t tell me.”

  “Simple?” he half-laughs in amusement. “Nothing about that is simple. Do you have any idea what you were doing? The risk you were taking?”

  “Yes…yeah. I thought I did.”

  He shakes his head disapprovingly again.

  “You were never part of the lies, Bentley. Everything I felt for you—”

  “It doesn’t matter!” He cuts me off. “It was based on lies. It’s no different. You could’ve cost me my job. My reputation.”

  “I know,” I say quickly. I exhale slowly, needing to get my emotions back in check. “I know…it was a selfish move. One hundred percent selfish,” I admit. “I’ve never felt more regret than I did these past few weeks, replaying every decision in my head over and over.”

  We both stay silent, neither of us knowing what to say. The electricity between us is palpable—the tension evident in every silent breath not spoken.

  I stand up from the stool and brush both hands on my jeans. I hesitate before finally breaking the silence.

  “Nothing I can say will change what already happened, and I know that, but just know that I really am sorry. Even if it’s too late to apologize, I am.” I smile weakly at him before turning toward the door. I grab my sweater off the coat rack and attempt to pull it on when I’m hit with Bentley’s scent.

  He’s behind me, just barely touching my back. I can feel his hot breath on my neck, instantly sending goose bumps down both arms. It’s evident the power he still has over my body, entirely consuming and intoxicating.

  He grabs my sweater, signaling to let it go. He slowly and torturously pulls it on me and secures it tightly across my chest zipping it up slowly. My back is still facing him, but my body is fully aware of how close he is now.

  “Thank you,” I whisper softly.

  Both hands are gripping my upper arms, securing me in place. I’m not sure if I should move, or if I even can move. I’ll do anything for him to let me stay, but I know I’m completely undeserving of it.

  He brings his mouth to my ear, my eyes closing on contact as he whispers, “Let me help you. I can help find whatever you’re looking for.”

  My heart races at his words, my chest rising. “Why would you do that?” I ask quietly.

  He lets out a deep groan as he presses our bodies together. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Ceci. Everything in me screams to hate you, push you away, and not give a shit about you—but I can’t. As much as I try to convince myself it was only sex, I can’t.”

  My breathing quickens at his confession. My body aches for his touch, to feel his tongue against mine again, to be held in his arms—anything. I’m begging for all of it.

  I squeeze my eyes tighter, holding in the tears that are threatening to escape. Hearing his pained voice tells me just how much I’ve hurt him, how much I’ve betrayed his trust.

  “Bentley,” I whimper, relaxing into his hold. I’ll give anything to feel his naked body against mine again.

  “Unfortunately, the damage is beyond repairable,” he growls in my ear, making me almost breathless. His words speak one thing, but the way his breath hitches tells me another. It’s painful for him to even say those words.

  “I understand. Thank you for allowing me to explain it to you, at least.” I bow my head, enjoying his touch.

  He pulls me in closer to his chest. I anticipated his touch, the feel of his lips—anything to signal that he isn’t letting me go.

  I feel his nose in my hair, inhaling the scent of my shampoo. My eyes close on contact, taking him all in. His arms wrap around my chest, closing me in.

  Reality sets in, and I quickly open my eyes. “Bentley, please.” I sound weak, pathetic. “Please let me go.”

  “I don’t want to. As much as I should, I can’t.”

  “You have to…” I don’t need to further explain myself because I know he knows. The damage is done—I’ve hurt him and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I’ll only hurt him again.

  I feel his body go limp against mine, but I don’t turn around to face him. I can’t bare it. Finally, he reluctantly lets me go.

  “Good night, Bentley.”

  I open the door and walk out.

  Chapter Five

  Bentley

  GOD DAMMIT, WHY did I still want her? After everything she has put me through, I know I should stay the fuck away.

  But I can’t. Instead, I text her and tell her to tell me everything she knows about her dad’s death. I had planned to dig into his case anyway, but perhaps the information she has can help me out.

  Cecilia: I know there were issues with money. My sister remembers hearing them fight about it. According to their finances, their monthly income was not stable and was inconsistent. Do you think that could be the reason someone wanted him dead?

  Me: It’s a possibility. Just let me figure that out, Ceci. Just tell me anything you remember or any dreams you’ve had. Have you had any dreams?

  Cecilia: Well, most recently I had one that was like a flashback. I was sleeping when I heard them arguing in the kitchen about how my dad had spent all this money they didn’t have. My mom was worried about having to sell the house. My dad told her he’d find a way to get a Ramiro to give him more time. I also found a note with the name Samuel Anderson on it with a lock box code. When I told my mother about it, she freaked out and said I was going to get us killed trying to figure it out. I know she knows something…or at least has suspicions.

  Bentley: Okay, thanks. That’s all really good to know. I’ll let you know when I find more information out. It might take a few weeks.

  Cecilia: All right.

  Cecilia: Thank you, Bentley. You don’t know what this means to me.

  I swallow hard as I read her last text. I never expected to be getting information from the victim’s child years later about a case. It’s almost unheard of but at this point…what did I have to lose? Ceci wanted answers and finding out any kind of truth would make Leighton Enterprises look good. I just hope my father feels the same way after everything.

  I don’t text her back because I don’t want her thinking we’re now coordinating on this together. This is strictly a business relationship. Nothing more. It can’t turn into anything anymore…

  I focus all my attention on everything Ceci told me. I read over the file, looking into his finances. They are definitely inconsistent for at least two years, which is ironic for someone who worked a salary day
job. Something definitely looked suspicious.

  I follow the bank that he and his wife shared. Turns out he had several accounts in his name without his wife’s name. Definitely suspicious.

  There isn’t a whole lot to go off the name Ramiro without a last name. I look into our database anyway, perhaps a drug lord or dealer that’s been mentioned previously, but I find nothing.

  For the next two weeks, I engross myself into Mr. West’s file. I go to my kickboxing classes twice a week and do more research. After awhile, I’m no longer doing this just for the sake of the company. I want Ceci to have closure as well.

  * * *

  A soft knock interrupts my thoughts, and I tell whomever it is to enter. My head lifts up as I watch Ceci walk in. She flashes a small smile as she walks over to my desk, taking the chair in front of me.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I smile back.

  “Thanks for…um…helping me. Letting me come here.” Her voice cracks and I can tell how nervous she is. It’s been a month since we’ve last seen each other.

  “You’re welcome. I’ve been doing some digging based on what you’ve told me, and I might have a few answers for you.”

  Her body stiffens and I know this is something she’s been waiting to hear for a long time.

  “I did an extensive search for Samuel Anderson, nothing linked back that was tied to your father.”

  Her shoulders slump as she lets out a disappointing breath.

  “However, I investigated the lock box number and code and was able to trace it back to a bank in Iowa. It’s registered under your dad’s name.” She wrinkles her nose as her eyes narrow, confused. “He used a pseudo name for the lock box, actually.”

  She adjusts her hair and sits taller. “Wait…he’s Samuel Anderson?”

  “Yes. He has a bank account set up through them that pays the monthly cost directly. When I spoke with the manager, he told me it was set up before he died. He has just enough money in that account to pay for it for ten years.”

  She gasps. “Ten years?”