The Billionaire's Intern - Part 1. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
hand, and rattling it around in her palm before rolling them onto the table and slowly sorting them into color-coded piles. “What’s going on? You’re being really nice to me.”
“You’ve been through hell the past couple weeks. And it pisses me off. Because I worked damn hard to bring that bastard down and try and to make sure you and Mom didn’t suffer needlessly.” He paused and looked out the window. “I tried, Addison. I tried to make things right. For Sarah. For Katy, for every woman he hurt. And the last thing I wanted to do was hurt anyone. Especially Mom. Especially you.”
“I’m fine, Austin,” she said, sliding the red group of Skittles from the table, into her hand, the strong fruit flavors exploding on her tongue before fizzling into sour sugar.
“I’m not sure I would be fine if I saw what you did.”
A sharp, shocking flash of that night assaulted her mind’s eye, and with it, the familiar ice-cold fear. But there was no point in heaping guilt on Austin. No point in betraying just how horrific it had been.
No point in telling him every night she woke up drenched in sweat and shivering, feeling as if demons were reaching for her in the dark.
“It was awful,” she said, putting the candy down. “I won’t lie. But I was smart enough not to go and investigate closely. I went in the bathroom and called 911. I was scared, but…I didn’t see much.”
Not that it stopped the unending terror. But her older brother carried too much on his shoulders already. And if there was one thing Jason Treffen had passed on to her, it was the ability to appear cool while the world burned to ash around you.
“That’s…good.”
She shrugged, pouring more candy into onto the table, pushing the green in with the green, the purple in with the purple, wondering if she was overplaying the casual attitude.
Wondering if Austin would even notice something was wrong.
Austin was a caring older brother, but he was more than ten years older than her. And he’d moved out when she was a kid. He was always nice, but in general he’d seemed like an adult to her ever since she could remember. One thing he’d always been was a bearer of candy. Oh yes, and protective. Very protective.
And no, she wasn’t…okay. But she just had to deal with what had happened. And talking about it over Skittles and coffee wasn’t going to help that happen.
“And school?”
“Well…I’ve been politely ejected from my sorority…”
His dark eyebrows snapped together. “That’s bullshit. I’ll write a letter.”
“I left of my own accord. No one forced me to go. It was just heavily suggested. And who’s going to stay where they aren’t wanted?” That question was punctuated by her eating another grouping of Skittles.
“And your boyfriend?” Austin asked, applying a level of disdain to the title that Addison almost found funny. Almost.
“In Bermuda, of all places, likely blinding beachgoers with his exposed WASPy kneecaps and trudging around wearing sandals and tube socks, as rich boys are wont to do on holiday.”
“That was why he didn’t come to the funeral. I assume that’s why his dad didn’t come either. Or maybe that was them desperately trying not to get scandal all over them. What’s he doing about school?”
Addison sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Austin. Are you genuinely concerned for his education?”
“Questioning why the hell he’s not with you when you need him.”
Addison lifted a shoulder, proud of herself for not flinching when a shaft of pain hit her chest. “Probably because I’m a liability for him too. I understand.”
“Why are you with him?”
“Because,” she said, “he’s suitable.” Just as Columbia was a suitable university, and her sorority was a suitable house for a Treffen. Just as everything in her life was suitable down to the ground, for a man who was now six feet beneath it.
“So, what are you going to do?” Austin asked.
“About Edward Howell the Third?” she asked, invoking her boyfriend’s full name.
“About school. About where you sleep.”
“I don’t know. We have places I can stay, so I’m not really concerned about that. There’s the house upstate, the penthouse. If I really wanted to I could go to Bermuda to Mom and Dad’s beach house.”
“Finishing your degree?”
“I will,” she said, crossing her ankles and leaning back in her chair.
Though right now she wondered what the point of it all would be. She’d pursued Columbia to make Jason proud. And she’d chosen hospitality because she knew it was a field that would benefit a future society wife. Considering how things had turned out, she wondered if any of it mattered.
“But right now?”
“I’m on sabbatical. Because the entire student body is convinced that I am a prostitute because Dad…well, you know.” She tipped the Skittles bag over and poured a sizable amount onto the table.
Austin tented his fingers, leveling his dark eyes on her. She had a feeling he was about to try and solve all her problems. He had that look about him. It was very Austiny. “I have a solution for you.” As she’d suspected. “Or rather, I have a way for you to spend your time.”
“Please tell me it has nothing to do with planning your wedding. I love you. I love Katy, but…pay someone to do that. You’re rich. There is no reason to subject friends and family to this.”
“I know. But I can’t because my wife-to-be is a party planner, and binders with colored tabs make her…well, let’s just say the whole thing works out well for me.”
She blinked. “Thank you for oversharing.”
“I could have gone further.”
“Well, don’t. Ever. I’m pleased for your happiness…but I’m your sister and no, I don’t need to hear about all that.”
“I’ll spare you the details,” he said, still looking too smug for her liking. “But back to my plan, which has nothing to do with you looking at flower arrangements.”
“I’m listening.”
“You know Logan Black, I assume?”
“Everyone knows Logan Black, Austin. He was the only headline in the world two years ago. He got more press than Dad, and that’s saying something. He came back from the dead, after all.”
“Fair point,” Austin said. “I assume, since you’re aware of his circumstances, you’re also aware that he’s now the acting CEO of Black Properties.”
“I’m aware of that, yes. I do own a TV. Also, I make it a point to stay abreast of things that affect high society. Lest I appear gauche at luncheons,” she said, her tone dry.
“Logan and I knew each other in college. He’s…a friend. Or rather…I think he’s a friend. What passes for a friend to Logan isn’t the same as friendship for most people. At least not these days.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Because I got you an internship with him.”
“What?”
“Unpaid drudge work with the man at the top of your industry. You’re welcome.”
She blinked. “You’re assuming I actually want to work in that industry.”
“Actually I’m assuming that you’d like to escape the press.”
The media had been in a frenzy ever since the story broke about Jason.