The Intern: Vol. 3 Read online

  “Oh…I can guarantee you’d forget about Elliot if I told you my story. But it’d get me into too much trouble, so I’m keeping my lips sealed.” I twist a lock over my lips to emphasize I’m not spilling.

  She frowns and her eyes bow down to the floor. “Fine. Make a girl suffer alone then.”

  “Stop it.” I knock shoulders with her, getting her to smile. “The plus side of both of us down at the same time is we can wallow together. Ice cream, trashy magazines, and reality shows.”

  “Oh, my god.” She laughs. “Sometimes I forget you’re not an eleven-year-old brat anymore.” I smile back at her. “Now you’re an eighteen-year-old brat.”

  She laughs loudly as I push her over, making her fall to her side. “Okay, you’re only like three years older than me.”

  She sits up and looks at me sincerely. “I know. We should do more stuff together.”

  “Agreed. Now…time to raid the kitchen.”

  * * *

  “So what was this boy’s name?” she asks as we both sit against the headboard watching reruns of some reality show and scooping chocolate ice cream out of the container.

  “Bentley…”

  “Oh, he even sounds hot.”

  “He is.” I eat another mouthful of ice cream, hoping it freezes my brain, and I forget everything perfect about him. “I screwed up though, not him.”

  She turns to me with a shocked expression. “I guess he didn’t forgive you.”

  “Oh, hell no. He was mad to say the least. I deserved it.”

  She’s looking at me with a careful expression as if she’s wondering if she should go there or not. We don’t share a lot of personal information about each other. Just seems easier when you’re in an unreliable family.

  “Well, whatever you did, I’m sure it was with the best intentions.” She shrugs, clearly trying to make me feel better.

  “Yeah…it was. But it doesn’t matter. I screwed up and have lost him forever.”

  “You’re only eighteen, Celia,” she offers. “You have plenty of time. Plus, guys are going to be tripping over each other to date you in college.” She smiles and curls her feet underneath her. “Like, I worry about your safety. Perhaps you should hire a bodyguard just in case.”

  “You’re so dramatic.” I laugh. “But then what if the bodyguard starts coming on to me. Who’ll protect me then?” I mock.

  “We’ll make sure it’s a woman.”

  “And what if she hits on me?” I laugh again.

  “Well, then just fucking roll with it. It’ll probably work out better anyway.” She giggles.

  “You’re probably right.”

  * * *

  I wake up sometime in the middle of the night still in Casey’s bed. Surprisingly, we had a pretty good night. We gossiped, watched TV, and just let our guard down with each other. I hadn’t ever felt that comfortable with Casey in my entire life. It made me feel so much better knowing I had someone who could relate with what I was feeling, and that I had someone to go to for comfort.

  I call Simon after breakfast and tell him to meet me at the coffee house. My dad’s file is still my only hope and the sooner we get through the rest, the better.

  “Jesus, Celia. How many days are you planning to stay up?” he asks, eyeing my quad shot caramel latté.

  “Trust me, I need it.” I yawn, taking a seat next to him. “You will, too.”

  He rolls his eyes dramatically at me. “What would you do without me?”

  “Uh, drink my coffee in peace.”

  “You’re so lucky I deal with your shit.”

  “I know.” I smile weakly at him, secretly thanking him for it. “Now, last time you mentioned something about my dad’s finances. I want to go through and see if there’s any mention about a lock box, security box, or something like that. Anything that would connect to the note I found in my mom’s room.” He gives me a disapproving look as I sip my coffee. “What?”

  “You’re getting your hopes up.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” He shifts his chair closer to me.”

  “Don’t you think if the police knew about any lock box, they’d be the first ones in it? And if they knew, your mom would have no reason to hide the code?”

  I exhale and think about what he says. He has a point. “Okay, you’re probably right. So you think he hid money in there? I mean since his accounts were never consistent.”

  “It’s possible. But maybe your mom doesn’t even know. If she did, she wouldn’t keep the code. Or need to hide it. I doubt she even knows what’s in there.”

  “So why would you keep a code of a secret lock box for seven years and never try to find it?” I question aloud.

  “Maybe she’s waiting for something. Like a certain time.”

  “It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe she knew about it? Or maybe she found the paperwork for it and burned it but wrote down the code so she wouldn’t forget?” I sit anxiously, tapping my foot. “Gah, this is so infuriating. Why can’t she just freaking tell me? Why does she act like everything is so dangerous when I question her?”

  “Maybe she’s keeping it a secret for a reason, Celia. Maybe there’s secrets she can’t bare to tell you, and wants to protect you. Maybe you should just let her,” he says sincerely, but cringes as he takes in my expression.

  “I think I deserve to know. I almost died that day too, or well, I could’ve had a bullet hit me in the neck or something. And this person is just walking around the Earth as if he didn’t kill my father. It’s just not fair.”

  “Of course, it’s not fair. Nothing about this is fair.”

  “If I could just find something that brings me closer to him, something that tells me my dad died as a good person, maybe I’d be satisfied enough. But right now, there are just too many unanswered questions. It drives me insane. Every day, Simon, every day. I wake up with a million questions. I wake up wondering why I didn’t get to keep my dad, why I was chosen to lose him, why he was chosen to die. They’re questions I can’t get out of my head. How am I just supposed to walk away from that? How do you continue to live without trying to do anything possible to find the answers to those questions?” I ramble without looking him in the eyes. It’s painful letting everything out, but I feel safe with Simon. I feel comfortable enough to cry in front of him.

  Tears slowly fall down my face and roll off my cheeks, hitting the table below me. I wipe them off before Simon can see, but I know he notices.

  “Celia…c’mon, let’s read through the rest.” He shifts his chair directly next to mine, opening up the file in front of us.

  Chapter Three

  Bentley

  I pace my office until the darkness has consumed me. The cleaning crew has been in already and turned the lights off when I was pacing the hallway. Once I came back in, I never bothered to turn them back on.

  What was the point?

  A full week has gone by without seeing or talking to Ceci. Not that I had expected to see or talk to her, but part of me—a messed up part—was hoping she’d at least try to contact me via email or text message.

  I never planned to call the cops. Even my father won’t because the press would get a hold of that and run with it—it would be bad publicity on Leighton Enterprises. However, that doesn’t stop my father from chewing my ass out every chance he has.

  The city lights shine through the window giving me just enough light to walk the length of my office. I don’t know what else to do or how I’m supposed to handle this. From the file alone, there isn’t anything remotely intriguing enough to sell—if that were her intent. Something inside me knows it wasn’t. She’s just a little girl that lost her dad and wanted answers. Perhaps that is what’s worse—knowing she came in with the intention of stealing information for her own gain. She already had the internship—she wouldn’t need to sleep with me to get anything else, but that sure as shit doesn’t simmer the anger. All the unknown, all the rage building up inside me—makes it imposs
ible to let it go knowing she was willing to risk my company’s reputation for her own gain.

  I haven’t slept since last weekend. And even when I did, it was her that I saw. Her face, her laughing, her perfect curves pressed up against mine—everything about her is ingrained into my brain.

  I grab my keys and bolt out of the office. I need to keep myself busy. I need to be productive in something.

  I decide to hit the gym and run off some steam. There just so happens to be a kickboxing class starting. What the hell? Might as well join. Maybe it’ll be good for me.

  That class is mixed with both guys and chicks. It’s a beginners’ class, but I’m pretty sure I can kick the shit out of the bag.

  “Welcome, class. My name is Maya. I’m going to go through some basic moves and then we can get into a routine.”

  She runs through techniques and stances before we really get into it. It’s actually fun, and I find myself enjoying it. I kick and punch with everything I have, taking everything out on the bag.

  She begins clapping to gain our attention and says, “Great job, class! Y’all did wonderfully! If anyone is interested, I’m teaching two classes a week—this one and a more advanced one. Feel free to stop in if you’re feeling brave.” She winks and claps again, applauding us for how well we did.

  I walk up to her once the crowd leaves and tell her thanks for a great class.

  “You did great,” she beams.

  “What day is your other class? I might stop in.”

  “Wednesday nights.” She looks me up and down. “You should stop in. You can stay in the back if you’re not quite up to the level.”

  “Sure.” I smile back. “Sounds great. Thanks.” I wave as I leave, and for the first time all week, I feel as if I have something to look forward to doing. Working out during my modeling days was part of the job, but now it’d be for fun. Something to get my mind back on track.

  * * *

  “Well, you look like you’re in a better mood finally,” Erika comments as I walk in Monday morning.

  “Don’t let looks deceive you,” I snap as I walk past her. I felt great Saturday night after boxing class—re-energized. But Sunday morning, after spending the morning with my parents at brunch just reminded me of my fuck up and of her.

  I barely finish my coffee and get through my emails before Ryan pops his head in.

  “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 fa
ce. “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.