The Intern: Enemies To Lovers

FORD

Eve also picked you out a purse, but she wants to give you that in person. My daughter already has extremely expensive taste-Lord help me. She took me straight into Gucci and told the sales associate exactly what she wanted.

ME

LOL. I swear she’s my child-in a non-creepy way, of course.

FORD

I don’t disagree. How are things going today?

I felt a heat burning across my back and glanced over my shoulder.

Declan hadn’t moved, his hands still flat on the desk, his eyes narrow while he stared at me. “If you’re done swooning over your flowers, you can get back to work.”

So, this was what jealousy looked like on him.

Man, did I love it.

Instead of replying to him, I looked back at my phone, practically giggling as I typed.

ME

Have I told you that you give the best advice ever? Because you do.

FIFTEEN

DECLAN

A

s I stared at Hannah, I was frozen at my desk like a goddamn block of ice with my hands flat on the wood, feet pressed against the floor, right leg bouncing in anticipation.

The woman was fucking consuming me.

And while I sat here, obsessing about her, her smile was aimed at the vase of flowers, worth at least several hundred dollars, and at the screen of her phone, assuming she was texting her gratitude to whoever had sent them.

It wasn’t just any kind of smile. This was one that tugged at her full lips, causing a slight wrinkle at the corner of her eye, a rosy circle forming in her cheek.

I wanted to see the goddamn words that were written on the card.

I wanted to know who had this kind of power to cause such a reaction from her.

Was this a woman in lust?

Or worse, a woman in love?

Those questions didn’t break through the ice. Instead, they made the glacier even thicker.

I wanted Hannah Dalton to be mine.

The fact that she wasn’t just made me angry.

Angry that she was my intern and I knew it wasn’t appropriate to have a relationship with someone at work, especially with her being a subordinate. Angry that she was a Dalton and I had already been warned by Dominick. Angry that our first time together had been an evening she didn’t remember and, with that, came a heavy layer of guilt.

Angry that the first woman I wanted more with was off-limits.

I didn’t know how to make this right.

And I didn’t know how to make her mine.

I just knew that her presence had become too much to resist.

Whenever she stepped into my office, I wanted to bend her over my desk. Whenever a moment of silence passed between us, I wanted to pull her into my arms and bury my tongue in her mouth.

Rather than doing any of those things, I barked. I treated her like shit. I took my frustration and resentment out on her.

I’d never had a Hannah in my life.

I didn’t know how to do this.

I fucked women and then immediately left them. No one had ever occupied my mind this long.

Fuck.

I needed an escape, a deep breath that wasn’t monopolized by thoughts of her.

I walked out of my office and went into the kitchen. I didn’t know what I was doing in here. It was just a space that didn’t reek of her, a room I didn’t frequent often since Hannah got me coffee and food whenever I wanted. But the Daltons paid for an in-house caterer, and today, she was setting up a dessert station in the corner.

I grabbed a cookie and a cup of coffee and took a seat at one of the tables.

A group of three male interns walked in, hovering by the cupcakes.

One of them, after swallowing his bite of chocolate frosting, said, “Did you see the skirt she has on today?” to the other two.

I had no interest in making conversation. I also didn’t give a fuck about what they were discussing, so I was scanning emails on my phone; it was just impossible not to overhear.

“Fuck, man, she has the most beautiful legs I’ve ever seen, and her nipples have been hard and poking through that white shirt every time I walk by her desk,” another one said.

Hannah had on a white shirt. I’d noticed her nipples every time she came into my office today.

Hell, there wasn’t a part of her I didn’t notice.

But I was sure the mention of the white shirt was just a coincidence. There were hundreds of women who worked at this firm; they could have been talking about any of them.

“You know we went to undergrad together,” the first guy said. “Studied together, sometimes partied together. She had such a tight little body, and, fuck, it’s even better now.” Just as I glanced over at the group, he added, “Dude, Hannah Dalton was the hottest girl in my prelaw classes by a fucking mile.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Out of all people, they were talking about Hannah.

My Hannah.

A little of the black coffee spilled onto the table; the cookie crumbled in my palm.

“I’ve got that beat,” another one said. “We go to the same law school, and we’ve been in most of the same classes. There’s a study group next week, and I’m going to ask her out. I’ve been trying to since the start of the semester, but the second class is over, she darts out, and I never get the chance.”

That earned him a fist pound from his other two buddies.

“Man, if you hit that, I need details,” one of them replied.

“Dude, you lucky bastard,” the other one voiced. “She’s fucking smoking. I’d kill for a chance with her.”

“Get in line, motherfucker.”

Jesus Christ.

Every person in this fucking building who had a cock was noticing Hannah.

She was getting flowers. She got hit on wherever she went.

Guys would do anything to have a taste of her.

She was worth it; I could understand it, as the girl was gorgeous.

But that didn’t help the rage erupting in my body.

Nor did these three fools.

I tossed the pieces of cookie into the trash-it wasn’t nearly as good as anything Hannah baked-and went over to their small group. “Shouldn’t you be working?”