The Billionaire's Intern - Part 2. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter Seven

      Five days after the incident at the hotel, and Logan hadn’t mentioned it once. He also didn’t mention the possibility of going out again. Things had gone back to business as usual, which, with Logan, was not usual at all.

      He continued to be erratic, showing up in the office when it suited him. Then—once they were in the office together—going hours without speaking to her while pacing around the room wearing no shoes.

      And honestly that would’ve been fine. Had she not decided she was going to fix this for him. It was his own fault, really.

      He was the one who had said she was only a socialite. And those were the words that had burrowed under her skin, rubbing at her, like a grain of sand buried inside a clam. She really hoped that her efforts produced a pearl, because otherwise all she had was the irritant and no reward.

      One thing all these crazy events had confirmed for her was that she wasn’t content to be passive anymore. She’d never felt passive, because putting on the Treffen facade had always felt like such an effort.

      But after losing her incentive for behaving that way, she was slowly being forced to face the reality that none of it had been for her. That she wasn’t sure she wanted to be the perfect socialite. That she wasn’t sure whether or not she cared about any of the things she’d pretended to care about for so long.

      Which was part of what spurred her on now. And was part of her inspiration for how she might be able to help Logan.

      Addison walked into the office, not quite certain what she would find there. Empty space, Logan huddled in a corner, Logan prowling around like a caged tiger… Really, there was such a wide variety of options. All of them slightly disturbing.

      She stopped in the doorway, surprised by the sight that greeted her. Logan was sitting at his desk, looking at his computer, appearing to be every inch the successful businessman that he was. No disheveled tie or torn dress shirt here.

      If she could say one thing for him, it was that he was predictable in his unpredictability.

      “Good morning, Logan,” she said, taking a step farther into the room.

      Logan looked up from his computer screen. “Good morning,” he said, inclining his head in her direction. “Why do you look so startled this morning, Addison? I’m sitting at my desk like a normal boss.”

      “Yes, that’s what unnerves me.”

      He laughed, the sound low and rich, bitter, like dark chocolate. A strange comparison, maybe, but it was the only comparison that helped her excuse why it was just so appealing to her. She’d always been a fan of dark chocolate. Ergo, if Logan’s laugh was like dark chocolate, it made sense for her stomach to turn over in excitement when she heard it.

      “You’ve grown accustomed to my eccentricities.”

      Addison took a deep breath. “Whether or not I’m used to them is neither here nor there. I’m supposed to help you work through them, at least as far as the public is concerned.”

      He tightened his hands into fists. “Still determined to try and fix the unfixable?”

      “It just so happens that I don’t think you’re unfixable.” She hadn’t been aware that she felt that way, or that she felt so strongly about it, until just then. Until she’d looked at him, really looked at him, in his cold, blue eyes, and seen just how deeply he believed there was no saving him.

      She didn’t accept that. And she was going to make use of her training. All she’d learned about helping in superficial situations? She could use it now. She could use it with him. And with him…it seemed that it would matter. It seemed like something deeper than the superficial, for the first time.

      “That’s where you might be wrong,” he said.

      Addison waved her hand, in her best imitation of a dismissive, snobby gesture, one best loved by Lenore Treffen. “Philosophical differences aside, fixable or unfixable, it does not change the fact that you’re expected to give a speech in… When are you expected to give the speech?”

      “Four weeks,” he said.

      “Well, that’s good. We have some time.”

      “And you honestly think time is going to make any difference? I was more able to deal with people when I stepped off that airplane when I first arrived back in New York.”

      “Because you were cushioned by shock.”

      Logan leaned back in his chair, pushing his hand through his thick brown hair. She was captivated for a moment, by that hand, that large, masculine hand. It was a simple thing, a silly thing maybe, but she found herself wondering what that hand had done. To survive, to thrive.

      “You are clinging to that unscientific explanation of it, I take it?”

      “Why not? It makes sense to me. Anyway, no matter how you explain it, it doesn’t change what has to be done. So I’m going to ask you a question. Are you going to lie down and be defeated by this, or are you going to fight?”

      Logan pushed off from his desk and stood, the motion swift and shocking. “You say that like I haven’t been fighting every damn day since I got back.” He started to pace, restless energy radiating from him in waves. “Like I didn’t fight every day from the time the yacht crashed on that island to when I was rescued. I have done nothing but fight for four years.”

      “You’ve survived. I’m not sure if you’ve done anything else.”

      “That’s one better than anyone who was on the yacht with me.”

      His words hung in the air, stark and angry.

      “I won’t pretend that I have any idea how hard it was, Logan. But I specialize in the social. But not just that, in going to social events that I don’t care about.”

      He turned his laser focus to her. “What’s your point?”

      “Patience, I’m getting to it. If you’re allowed your dramatics, it seems only fair that you let me have mine. Anyway, do you have any idea how many times I’ve wished I was a million miles away, not listening to whatever egotistical, inane conversation I’m being subjected to? A lot of times. But if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to stand there, poised and looking completely engaged, no matter what’s actually happening in my mind.”

      “Which would be valuable, if my issue were simply fear of falling asleep while being exposed to boring conversation.”

      “I think I can teach you to escape. At least in your mind.”

      Logan arched an eyebrow. “I thought the idea was to make me seem less crazy.”