The Intern Serials: Complete Box Set Page 6

  * * *

  By Wednesday, my mind hasn’t cleared at all. If anything, it’s even more clogged than before, and I come to the conclusion that I need to see her and know more about her. I don’t care what it takes.

  My condo is twenty minutes from work, and by the time I arrive at my office, I’ve already called in a favor—my secret weapon to seeing Ceci.

  To: cwest@leighton.com

  From: bleighton@leighton.com

  Subject: Invitation

  Ceci,

  There’s a criminology presentation with special guest speakers taking place at the Windhover Center tomorrow evening that I think will benefit you greatly in your major and the internship.

  I have a ticket for you.

  It starts at 7PM.

  Bentley

  I decide to sign as Bentley—hoping she notices the transition from boss to date.

  I grin as I hit the send button. I don’t want it to be obvious that this is my way of seeing her again, but if I request her presence for learning purposes, there’s a better chance of her coming. I can tell how much passion and interest she has in criminology, so it’s my best bet of seeing her outside of work.

  I wait impatiently until I hear the sound of a new message.

  To: bleighton@leighton.com

  From: cwest@leighton.com

  Subject: Re: Invitation

  Bentley,

  Thank you so much for thinking of me. Sounds like something I’d greatly benefit from. Please have the ticket waiting for me at check in.

  Ceci

  She’s either extremely naïve or playing hard to get. Either way, I’m going to play.

  Chapter Eight

  Cecilia

  I IMMEDIATELY GET online to look up tomorrow’s presentation. My eyes bulge out of my head as I see it’s for elite members only. Bentley must’ve pulled some strings to get me that ticket.

  I rub my shoulder anxiously as I wait for the response of his email. I can’t understand why he’s going through so much trouble for me, unless he truly believes in me enough to give me this chance and opportunity to learn more from him, which in that case, makes him about a hundred times hotter than he is already. I’ve never met someone like him—someone so intimidating, yet weak. Perhaps he’s just weak when he’s around me, but if that’s the case, that’s exactly the angle I need to get into the files of my dad’s case.

  I sit nervously in my last class waiting for my phone to vibrate with a new message. And then finally, it does.

  To: cwest@leighton.com

  From: bleighton@leighton.com

  Subject: Re: Re: Invitation

  You’ll be accompanying me, Ceci.

  Meet me at Sebastian’s Steakhouse at 5PM.

  Bentley

  Holy shit.

  Now we’re going to dinner first? This guy was horrible at asking for things. Instead, he took them...no…he demanded them.

  I clench my thighs together at just the thought of being alone with him in a restaurant. Sebastian’s was a fancier restaurant—much more romantic than a boss-intern dinner should be.

  My mind floods with nerves as I anticipate seeing Bentley again—outside of work this time. Bentley wasn’t a boy. He’s a man. An older man who could make or break me. A man who could give me everything and more. A man I could see myself falling hard for.

  * * *

  I could barely focus on Simon as we hung out the following day. He ranted for hours about Cora and how could she hook up with Lance, and blah blah. Like I said, I couldn’t focus and really have no idea what he said.

  My mind and body were still in an aftershock from the events of kissing Bentley. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted more of it. I didn’t care how wrong it was or that I was lying to him about who I was. I didn’t want to let that get in the way of being around him. Even if it could come back to bite me in the ass.

  * * *

  “Why are you so giddy?” Cora asks me in between class periods.

  “I’m not giddy,” I retort. “I’m always this way.”

  She looks down at my books and takes notice of the newest Cosmo magazine lying on top.

  “You are so not always this way, Cecelia Rose West. Something is up with you.” She eyes me curiously, and I can’t stop the stupid grin from forming on my face.

  “Okay, fine. I met a guy. And we’re going out tonight for the first time,” I blurt out, and it feels so good to get that off my chest.

  She screeches to a halt. “WHAT?”

  I decide to leave out that it’s with my boss where I’m working on a fake internship.

  “Tone it down, Cora,” I hush at her. I bump my hip with hers to get her to cool it. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I lie. Inside I was screaming.

  “This is a huge deal.” She links her arm with mine as we continue walking. “Give me the details, right now, woman.”

  “Well, he’s older, so that’s why I haven’t said much. And it’s new and weird and—”

  “Hot?” she finishes, raising her eyebrows.

  I laugh as she teases me. “Yes, he’s hot. The kiss was pretty hot, too.”

  “Damn girl. You are smitten.”

  “I am so not smitten. Have you ever seen me smitten?”

  “Nope, that’s exactly how I know that you are. You have never been this way with guys before.”

  “That’s because guys our age are immature and annoying. There was nothing to be smitten about,” I joke.

  “So true,” she breathes out and laughs.

  “I’ll tell you more later,” I promise, because I know she’s going to beg for answers. And I usually tell Cora everything, so she knows I’ll come clean eventually. I just need to make sure to cover my bases, so I don’t get either of us in trouble for lying.

  * * *

  I can’t stop the smiling, as I get dressed and ready for my ‘work’ event tonight. I find a classy but simple black dress in my sister’s closet with some red heels, making my whole outfit pop. I don’t want to be over-dressed or look like I’m trying too hard, but I want to look good for Bentley.

  I’m sweating as I drive anxiously. I arrive at the steakhouse promptly at four-fifty p.m. Being around him at work is different. It’s business. But now, this feels much more intimate. We’re going to be in a date-type setting and the butterflies in my stomach won’t quit. I’m obviously attracted to him, but the part of me that wants to let go and let him in is fighting against bricks to keep him away. Deep down, I know it’s a bad idea, but my body doesn’t agree. My body craves every inch of him.

  I tell the host who I am and that I’m waiting for Mr. Leighton. He gives me a head nod as he grabs a menu and says, “This way, Miss West.”

  I nervously follow behind him taking in the setting. The lights are dim, and every table is full of couples sitting in a very close, intimate way with candles lit in the middle.

  It feels as if I’ve lost my voice as I thank the host for escorting me to my table where Bentley is patiently waiting for me. His face is intense, barely showing any emotion.

  I swallow nervously as I eye him. The host goes to slide my chair out, but Bentley stops him.

  “I’ll do that.” He stands up quickly, and the host backs away. Bentley doesn’t say a word to me as he grabs my chair and motions for me to sit down.

  The host places my menu in front of me, and I quietly thank him again.

  In the office—work setting—I feel confident and invincible. But not here. I feel intimidated, weak, and hopeless.

  “You look beautiful,” he finally says sitting casually across from me.

  “Thanks.” I gulp as I take in his intense stare. He’s eyeing me, not giving any part of what he’s thinking away. “This place is really nice.” I try to make conversation in order to ease my nerves, but the still way he’s sitting and staring at me is putting me on edge.

  “Have you never been here before?” he asks with amusement.

  This was a five-star, top-notch restaurant
that took weeks to get reservations for—certainly, something not a typical college-aged student has ever been to.

  Rather, I shrug off his amusement and try to relax. “Oh, sure. I come here whenever I feel the need to drop a few hundred.”

  That earns a small grin and finally, my body eases into the chair.

  “Only a few hundred?” he muses. “Clearly, you aren’t ordering the right wine then.”

  My heart stops as I realize he’s going to want to order alcohol. I don’t have Casey’s ID with me…shit shit shit…how could I not think of that?

  I laugh, so he doesn’t see my mini heart-attack. “I guess so.”

  “Are you excited for tonight’s presentation?”

  My eyes widen as he brings up lighter conversation about something that makes me more comfortable. “Yes, absolutely! You must’ve had to pull some mad strings to get those tickets,” I gush.

  “I have a friend,” he responds casually and shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

  “A friend who apparently can pull some strings.” I grin.

  He flashes a cocky smirk. “Something like that.”

  I feel like an idiot as it finally registers in my mind. He’s fucking Bentley Leighton. He probably gets whatever he wants whenever he wants it.

  And that should scare the hell out of me.

  The power he has…holds…controls. A sudden chill radiates my body as I think about what I’m doing—what game I’m playing.

  I grab my menu and stare at it intently to get my mind to calm down. He sits with one leg propped up on his knee as his body is angled toward mine. He probably comes here so much he has the damn thing memorized.

  “So what’s good?” I ask simply smiling at him over my menu. He’s watching me as if he’s waiting for something magical to happen.

  “Everything, of course.” He grins and then it hits me.

  “Let me guess. You own this place. Or your family does? Or a friend of the family?”

  He laughs lightly and shakes his head no. “You have six food options plus the couple of specials they offer. So really…everything is good here.”

  I was staring so hard at the menu to distract myself that I hadn’t even realized. He’s right—there are literally six things to choose from, what the hell? This is the weirdest restaurant I’ve ever been to before.

  “A little different than my McDonald’s tradition,” I joke as if I live on a college student’s salary.

  He doesn’t even crack a smile, and I see his mind spinning as he eyes me with concern.

  “I’m kidding,” I finally say. His face relaxes a bit, but it’s still tense. “It’s between that and ramen noodles.” I cock a smile, so he finally loosens up.

  “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

  “Oh, come on. That’s like the college lifestyle.” I smile and finally feel comfortable with our easy-going banter. “Well, for poor students,” I add getting him to laugh.

  “I guess I deserved that.”

  I smirk and shrug unapologetically. A waiter greets us finally, and before he can ask us our order, Bentley rambles off some kind of bottle of wine. I’m fully ready to turn down the offer and tell him I don’t drink as he asks for ID, but he never does. He simply nods and accepts every word Bentley says.

  “I think you’ll enjoy the house steak with the red wine.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I rest my menu down as the waiter soaks up every word and says he’ll be right back with our wine and bread.

  He grabs our menus and walks away, leaving me alone with Bentley with nothing to hide behind.

  “So, um, do you go to these presentations often?” I cross my legs and keep my eyes locked on his. I have to take back the control. I can’t let myself be intimidated by him.

  He waves his head back and forth before answering. “No, not really. I did in college, but not since I’ve started at the company.”

  “Well, what should I expect?”

  “You should expect to see a lot of old men.”

  I burst out in a laugh. “Is that so?”

  “Nah, just kidding. There might be some college-aged and some professors.”

  “Well, I’m intrigued. I’ll take any opportunity to learn more.”

  “I can teach you anything, Ceci.” His voice is low and deep as if he’s completely serious. “Anything you want to know about journalism and criminology—consider me your endless source of information,” he continues genuinely. I see the confidence in him, and I know his words have a double meaning.

  “You’re pretty egotistical for a guy that just graduated a couple years ago.”

  “I prefer confident.” He grins.

  “I bet you do.” I try my best to hide my smile, but he notices.

  The waiter returns with our bottle of wine. I watch as he pours my glass first and then turns to pour Bentley’s. He stands and waits as Bentley sips it before giving the waiter a nod of approval.

  “I’m guessing you don’t drink wine much.” He held his glass up and swirls it.

  “I love how you have me pegged with barely knowing me,” I say sardonically.

  “Well…college honor student, works for free on the weekends, lives off ramen noodles. I’m guessing you’re the typical poor college student—you study too much to work and seeing that you work for free on Saturdays and study all week, you have no life outside of college, which means you don’t have a boyfriend. Or any that know how to take you out.”

  “Hmm…very observant.” I grab my glass and close my eyes as I inhale the scent. I swirl it before bringing my lips to the glass and taking a sip. I moan out slowly as I enjoy the taste burning down my throat.

  “Jesus…” I hear him growl before opening my eyes. His face is pale, but his eyes are wide and hungry with need. “Or you have dated a winemaker,” he jokes.

  “I saw that in a movie once,” I say honestly, laughing. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”

  The corners of his lips curl up in a smile.

  “What?” I ask feeling self-conscious as his continuous stare becomes more intense.

  “There’s just something about you, Ceci. You’re bold and fearless, yet there’s such an adolescent side to you that makes you adorable.” He’s playing with his glass as if he’s nervous about being honest with me.

  “Adolescent side? Are you calling me a baby?” I tease.

  “Well, if baby’s what you like to be called.” He places his foot on the ground and sits up leaning closer into the table and bringing his face closer to mine. “Otherwise, there’s plenty of other names I can call you,” he threatens in a teasing tone.

  I swallow and smile at his flirty attempt. “Is that normal for a boss to call an intern?”

  “No.” He doesn’t move.

  “Breaking your own rules?” I lean in toward him challenging him to his own game.

  “What rules?” His eyes give me a questioning look.

  I get lost in Bentley’s face and start studying the curves of his features. His hair is brushed back slightly—purposely messy, as his groomed beard is perfect in length. His sideburns are thicker and run into his facial hair. I imagine my fingers intertwining in his golden locks as he wraps me up in his arms assaulting my lips as our tongues tango together.

  “Ceci?” His deep, pained voice shakes me out of my fantasy.

  I clear my throat before speaking. “The company handbook,” I remind him. “Any relationships formed within the office are strictly forbidden,” I quote right from the handbook that he emailed me.

  His lips form a cocky grin as he shifts in his chair. “You read the company handbook, did you?” he asks surprised.

  “Well, it’s company policy,” I quip.

  “So you aren’t a rule breaker?” I can tell he’s testing me, but I know what he really wants to know—am I willing to break the rules for him.

  “You’ve seen my portfolio. Does it say I am?” I ask with seduction laced in my voice.

  “It says you’r
e a fast learner and that you’re willing to learn new things.”

  “That I am.” I wink, and I can tell I just gave him the green light.

  Chapter Nine

  Bentley

  Breaking the Rules

  WATCHING HER SQUIRM is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. She acts so confident and cocky on the outside, but on the inside, she’s a timid girl not wanting to show her true self to anyone. She’s hiding something.

  Once our meal arrives, she relaxes a bit. Her open, edgy, carefree attitude returns as we ease into simple conversation. She continues to ask me about my work and favorite cases I’ve worked on, and I ask her about her family and classes.

  “What happened to your dad?” I ask as I cut into my steak.

  She fidgets a little before responding. “He, um, left when I was eleven years old. I haven’t seen him since.” Her eyes are glued to her plate, and I know I’ve hit a sore topic.

  “I’m sorry.” Instinctively I reach across the table and grab her hand. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  She finally looks up and smiles weakly. “There’s not much to say.” She shrugs.

  I continue holding her hand and rub my thumb over hers in comfort. It seems to help, and she relaxes again.

  I take care of the check and escort her out of the restaurant. She begins fidgeting in her purse and asks, “Should I just follow you?”

  I grab her hand to stop her from searching for her keys. “No, I’m driving.”

  I want Ceci next to me for as long as I can get. A part of me knows she’s too good for me. She’s smart, funny, and I can tell she’s a genuinely good person. But the other part is too selfish to back off. I want her.

  “All right,” she says letting me grab her hand and hold it as I lead her to my car. Her small hand fits perfectly in mine, and I’m already dreading having to let it go. “You drive? I’d figure you’d have a 24/7 chauffeur.”