The Billionaire's Intern. Maisey Yates

weight. He barely felt them at all. “Sometimes I’m too blunt.”

      “Strange. I was expecting a little more charm. Especially given that, from what I’ve heard, you’re a notorious playboy.”

      “I haven’t been one of those for quite some time. That was in my other life. Now, would you like to see your room?”

       * * *

      Addison looked at the man, taller than she’d anticipated. She’d only ever seen Logan Black on TV. Years ago as the playboy moving his way through all of Manhattan’s socialites—her being an exception, as she was barely legal at the time—and now as the miracle heir to Black Properties, back from the dead after two years. Pictures that had flashed onto the television and on newsstands then had been filled with a thinner, more hollow-cheeked version of him. Long hair, a beard. More Swiss Family Robinson than Swiss banker. But none of those articles or clips on TV had prepared her for the presence of the man.

      Of course, he was frequently mentioned in business news now, the photo of the grinning playboy back, in place of the gaunt castaway. Before his time away, he’d always been a heartthrob. His lean frame and wicked smile had dropped panties from St. Bart’s to the Upper East Side. He was different now. He didn’t smile. Any snapshots she’d seen on TV recently were definitely old. Because this Logan didn’t look capable of a real smile. And the spark was gone from his eyes. He was larger too. Broader. Any hint of boyishness was gone now.

      “Yes,” she said, the word coming slowly. “I think I would like to see my room.”

      Logan circled around behind her and Addison felt like prey being hunted by some kind of big jungle cat. And she had the feeling she was willingly walking into his den.

      “I’m happy to take you there.”

      “Thanks,” she said, trying to force some air into her lungs. Something about him made it hard to breathe. Which was strange because she didn’t usually have that issue with men, even nice-looking ones.

      Her aim had always been simple. To conform, to please. To try and gain that elusive, impossible approval from a father who had never deserved that kind of devotion. Not from her or anyone.

      So she’d dated one man, the man she’d been expected to date since before she was old enough to even have a crush on a boy. And that relationship had been…passionless didn’t begin to cover it. It had been an obligation.

      Because Eddie was the son of one of the firm’s partners. And they were expected, she was sure, to have some kind of dynastic union. Now that she thought about it, and his behavior, she had a feeling he was as coerced as she was.

      With all that tied up in her dating life, she hadn’t really looked at men recreationally.

      Good-looking guys didn’t thrill her. Usually. This one seemed to be choking her.

      “Great, thanks,” she said. “I have some things to do.”

      “You have some work to do.”

      “Could I get a moment to set up?” she asked.

      He assessed her, his expression unreadable. Well, this was going to be a long few months. “I suppose.”

      “You’re going to be fun,” she said, “I can tell.”

      “No. I won’t be. Ask anyone who knows me.” He pulled open the office door and held it for her and she walked out in front of him, a whisper of electricity shimmering over her skin, a shot of nerves settling in her stomach. Having him behind her made her uncomfortable. And she couldn’t quite figure out why.

      Maybe it was because in many ways he seemed to resemble a predator more than a man.

      There was something untamed about him, which was a strange thought, here in the middle of a highly polished hotel. That added to it. Heightened the contrast.

      They walked down the long, dimly lit hallways. The wall sconces casting glimmering light onto the polished black marble, the tiles shimmering like an oil slick. The deep purple walls reminiscent of an old-fashioned gaming house. Rich with decadence and sin. A shining mix of Victorian Gothic elegance with an edge of modernity. Several stages of civilization represented under one roof, with a man that seemed to possess only the thinnest veneer of the civilized.

      And no shoes.

      Or maybe she was crazy, and because of that, she was overthinking. Considering all she’d been through lately, that thought wasn’t completely without merit. Actually the fact that she wasn’t showing signs of crazy seemed to worry the people in her life a lot more than witnessing her having a mental breakdown might have.

      Which reminded her that she owed Nora a text. Nora was sort of acting as “big sister by default”, since Harlow was in Europe working an internship in the European branch of her father’s law firm.

      Another pocket of the world no doubt hit hard by Jason’s uncovering, and his demise. She wondered how it was there. How Harlow, and everyone, was doing.

      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.