The Billionaire's Intern - Part 1. Maisey Yates
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penthouse her mother owned.
“And you honestly think taking an internship with Black will help me avoid the press?”
“If there’s one thing Black knows, it’s how to stay out of the spotlight when he wants to. No one has to know you’re there. And if the press does find out you’re there, it won’t seem at all unusual given your field of study.”
Addison leaned back in her chair. “You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t you?”
“Handy thing about guilt, it can really tap in to your problem-solving skills.” Austin stood and started to pace the length of the room. “Logan Black is not someone I would typically want you around, given his reputation. But he seems to have calmed down some. Since his resurrection.”
Austin wasn’t wrong. About the chance to hide out from the press, or about Logan Black. Considering his story, Logan should’ve been a media darling. But the man had a knack for staying out of the spotlight when he wanted to. He had changed a lot in the past four years. Two of which he’d spent presumed dead.
And when he came back, the playboy had transformed into something else entirely. A ruthless businessman who, by all accounts, was difficult, demanding, unpredictable. And reclusive.
And Austin had set her up to work with him. For free.
Her month really was getting better and better.
But considering her situation, she didn’t have a better option.
She was tired of being hounded by the press, and she needed to keep busy. Otherwise she would end up curled into a sugarcoated ball of misery. Reliving that night over, and over. The night that everything had gone to hell. The night her father had most certainly gone to hell.
“He’s…” Addison started, not really sure how to broach the topic of Logan. Or how to express her concerns. Going from living with one male psychopath to another wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
Not that Logan was a confirmed psychopath, but…
She started again. “He’s not the same.”
“He’s not,” Austin said. “But he’s not going to hurt you either. Actually I would have trusted him with you a whole lot less before than I do now. I mean, at least he’s not going around seducing everything in a skirt.”
“I prefer to wear pantsuits in the office. And you’re assuming I’m seduceable.”
Austin’s expression turned fierce. “No, I’m assuming nothing about you. But what I do know is that I’m slightly wary of men who treat women like they exist for nothing more than sex. I don’t want you exposed to anything like that.”
“You mean you don’t want me to be exposed to anything like that again. You forget I lived with our father for almost all of my life, and he was certainly one of those men. Wasn’t he?” A small part of her hoped that Austin would say no. A small part of her was still hoping to wake up and find this was all a terrible mistake.
“He was,” Austin said, his tone grave. “But Logan isn’t. Not now. And that’s all I mean.”
Addison cleared her throat. “Great. That’s…I mean, this is great, Austin. Thank you.”
“And he’ll provide lodging.”
She arched her eyebrows, a strange jolt of foreboding settling in her stomach. “Will he?”
“Yes. He was quite adamant about that. It has to do with his work schedule, and you’ll be fulfilling the role of personal assistant. But I think it will be especially good, since you don’t have the sorority house, and since the press seems to be permanently camped outside Treffen residences.”
“Probably suits you too. Related to you being in love, you don’t want me in your penthouse…being in your way.” Austin was entirely head over heels for his fiancée, in ways Addison could not imagine ever being for anyone. But while she didn’t relate to exactly what he was feeling, she logically understood that he would rather be alone with Katy than sharing his space with her.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, that too. Without going into emotionally scarring details.”
“You’re too kind, Austin.”
“Hey, a chance to stay in a luxury hotel and live in style, while taking a break from school? That’s not bad.”
“And who’s going to pay for my ‘living in style’?”
“Me. And then Dad’s big effing insurance payout.”
She made a face. “I don’t really like taking money from him. Money from what he did.”
“Like it or not,” Austin said, turning his chair to face the city skyline, “our entire life was financed by him.”
She stared straight ahead, her vision blurring. “What a legacy.”
“Yeah. So let’s make it a better one.”
Addison pushed the individual Skittles piles together. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
She would. She would make things better somehow. Even if it just started with her being a good intern. Because she wasn’t just lying down and giving up, no matter what the people around her seemed to think. Her life wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
Chapter Two
Logan Black looked out the window, directly across from his desk. The view of Fifth Avenue was both entrancing and slightly off-putting. Depending on his mood.
And his moods were subject to change at a moment’s notice.
The streets were packed with cars, nothing unusual, but the kind of thing that made his vision swim when it caught him off guard. Like just now.
He should have closed the curtains.
He turned his focus away from the view and leaned back in his chair, looking at the time displayed on his phone. Addison Treffen was due to arrive any moment. The beautiful daughter of the recently murdered Jason Treffen. If her brother hadn’t called in the favor, he would have happily chosen almost anyone else.
There was no place for soft, beautiful women in his life. Not now.
But Austin was one of the few people who tried to maintain a friendship with him since his return. And while Logan hadn’t done much to reciprocate, the gesture was appreciated.
Still, the idea of bringing Addison into Black Book, keeping her here…
Yesterday, it had seemed that it might work. Today, he was less certain.
He was used to that. To his moods changing like the tide. To New York feeling like a storm he could swim through one day—and one that would drown him in the depths the next.
Some days were much harder than others and he could never quite pinpoint what kind of day it would be. It usually started with shoes. That was often the biggest clue. How much did they bother him when he put them on? How much did he resent having to wear them?
If the shoes were a problem, it was a fair bet that the Manhattan streets would be too. That the traffic below would feel like his own personal hell.
Shoes had been a problem this morning. Which meant his meeting with Addison would be interesting indeed.
Though it occurred to him he might need to put his shoes on before she arrived.
He looked down at the pair of shoes and socks beneath his desk. Just a standard pair of black dress socks, and a pair of very expensive, handmade leather shoes.
He’d left them under there last night after he kicked them off.
Funny, he’d owned the shoes for something like five years now, but they’d rarely been worn. In part because they’d been new when he left, and in part because