The Billionaire's Intern. Maisey Yates

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      If only that didn’t sound so enticing. “Impossible,” he said. “I am the savior of Black Properties. The one who will continue to push the company forward. Who will carry out the legacy.”

      “And the legacy matters?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I only press as one who recently discovered that her legacy is mud.”

      “Let me tell you a story,” he said, wondering why in hell he was talking to her about this. One thing he didn’t believe in was giving explanations for himself. He didn’t owe his story to anyone. He used their discomfort at his inability to conform to his advantage, and he didn’t apologize for it. And yet something about Addison made him want to talk. And why should he waste a moment justifying that? Even to himself. “When I got on that yacht four years ago I was the despair of my father. And I deserved that. I was given everything from the time I was born, and with it I did nothing. Nothing but spend, coast through school, knowing I would get a pass because my father was David Black, and no one would dare fail his son. In my own mind, I was the damn chosen one, Addison. Nothing could touch me. Nothing was withheld from me. Invincible. A god. For no reason other than that I was born with blue blood and a full bank account.”

      He watched her face closely, watching for a ripple in the calm. So far, he hadn’t managed it.

      He continued. “I hate that arrogant man,” he said, “the one who walked onto a yacht four years ago for a weekend of drinking and sex. Who had never in his life spent a penny of his own money. I hate him. As far as I’m concerned he died on that island. Unfortunately my father died in Manhattan, while I was gone. And he will never know any other son than the one he had before. I was the son who made his mother cry, who left headlines that would shame his family. And now I have a second chance. Doesn’t my father deserve his legacy to be carried out? Doesn’t my sister deserve to have the company in good condition?”

      “Does your sister want to run it?” Addison asked.

      “No. But it’s the inheritance of future generations, and I’m sure she’d like to have children someday. Those children might appreciate it if their uncle didn’t destroy their legacy. I should think you would understand something about that.”

      “And your mother?” she asked.

      “Deserves to be proud of me for once. Not for my sake, but for hers.”

      “Isn’t the business healthy enough for you to put someone else in charge?”

      “No,” he said. “At least it wasn’t when I came back. I disappeared. My father died. And for about six months my mother had someone else in the position of CEO and things failed to improve. Then…I was rescued.” It was a strange term for what had happened to him. Because rescue, to him, implied something that was happy. And happy was never the emotion he associated with it. “Back from the dead. My mother lost her husband, but her son had returned. And I owe a debt to my family. I’ve restored what was lost. I intend to make everything stable so that they never have to worry again. So no, I can’t just go off and leave it to rot. Does that answer your questions?”

      “Almost. Why do you hate the man you were?”

      “Is that important?”

      “I’m curious.” She looked down for a moment, then back up. “I’m curious about what it takes to change like you did.”

      “I hate the man I was because he had everything and with that he did nothing.”

      “So, what you’re saying is in order to change, it would really help if I hated my former self?”

      “It doesn’t hurt.” He studied her expression, the unnatural neutrality of it. He wanted to see beneath it. And he had no right to that curiosity. Because it fed something in him that he knew he needed to keep hungry.

      He turned away feeling suddenly restless, a current of electricity crackling between his skin and clothes making him feel constricted, confined.

      “I am not your role model for change, Addison. Don’t get confused and start thinking that because this is an internship I’m here to guide you in some way. I’m doing Austin a favor, and as long as you serve my needs I will continue to do so. You are here for me. And you will follow my rules. Never tell anyone who calls that I’m available.”

      “Should I be writing this down?”

      He paused midstride and turned back to her. “If you think you might need to.”

      She blinked. “I guess it depends on how long the list is.”

      “This is not a joke, Addison, and if you think it is perhaps you should leave now.”

      “I didn’t mean it as a joke. I want to do well for you. I want to do this.” For one fleeting moment the expression on her face changed a ripple of fear disturbing the stillness. But it only lasted a moment. Even so, the slight burn of triumph he felt at having unsettled her lingered long after the distress had faded from her features.

      It was the first sign of weakness she’d betrayed, and for him, knowing the weaknesses of everyone around him was essential.

      That had been one of his very first lessons on the island. You could be predator or prey. You could hunt or be hunted. He had chosen to hunt. And even now that he was back, it was the way he chose to live.

      It occurred to him now that this was why Addison’s serenity had bothered him so much. It had made it difficult to find her vulnerability, her weakness. But he saw it now. She was afraid to lose this. And now that he knew the fear was there, he can use it.

      “You’re afraid to leave,” he said.

      She tilted her chin up, expression of defiance. “Not afraid,” she said. “But I would like to avoid getting harassed by the press.”

      “And you’ll be safe from them here. But if you want to stay, you will follow the rules.”

      Her eyes met his, her blue gaze cool. “Are you trying to intimidate me?” She stood from behind the desk, her movements smooth. “Because you realize that I spent almost all of my life sharing a residence with Jason Treffen? I get the point you’re pretty scary, Logan. But my dad was one of the bad guys.”

      “Be careful, Addison,” he said, moving toward her. As he drew closer to her he felt the air thicken, could see that she felt it too, that she was struggling to pull in breath. How poetic. If it wasn’t so macabre he could have laughed. “Just because you’ve looked into the darkness doesn’t mean you’ve seen everything that’s hiding there.” As he drew closer, she tensed, her lips parting, the action sending a slug of desire down to his gut. “Just because I’m not one of bad guys doesn’t mean I’m one of the good guys.”

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