The Intern Volume One

By: Brooke Cumberland



Paul failed to mention she’d be here today...

She continues eyeing me, and I wonder if she feels the electricity between us as much as I do.

“Well, I’ll see you Saturday, Mr. Leighton,” she says as she is seductively smiling up at me. She quickly turns around and begins walking toward the lobby doors.

I put my phone in my pocket and shake the thoughts of Casey out of my head. This is crazy. I can’t think of her like that. She’s my goddamn intern.

* * *

Being a model all through college and graduate school, it was never hard to find hook ups. Hell, they came to me. It was a much different lifestyle than I have now—everything was handed to me on a gold-lined platter. The clothes, partying until four a.m., limos, drinks, endless amounts of girls throwing themselves at me—it was all part of the lifestyle.

And now?

The partying has stopped. The limos, drinks, and endless girls stopped. Suit and briefcases became my new wardrobe, and my modeling career vanished as if it never even existed.

I work sixty plus hours a week, take shit from my colleagues who have no faith in me, and have become a walking/talking puppet for my father who wants to mold me into the future CEO.

The family enterprise isn’t what I have an issue with, but the fact that I’m twenty-fucking-six years old and the last thing I’m thinking of is settling down. A part of me wishes for my old life back, just to give me some sense of clarity, but that’s no longer an option for me.

* * *

By Friday, my mind is fully consumed with thoughts of Casey. Since the interview and bumping into her the day before, my mind has been places extremely inappropriate for someone that’ll be working for me.

I realize I need to get the hell out of this office and clear my head. I call Ryan, another colleague of mine, and tell him to go out with me tonight. He doesn’t argue, so we plan to meet up at ten p.m. at the Dusty Row bar.

I change into jeans and a fitted t-shirt before heading out and meeting him. The only thing on my agenda tonight is to get drunk and hopefully, lucky.

* * *

I wake up to the blazing sound of my alarm clock. Six-forty-five a.m. is flashing in bright red lights on my iPhone.

Oh, fuck.

I slowly roll over on my bed and smack into someone on the other side. I quickly rack my brain for memories of last night, but there isn’t any—well, not many at least.

I remember beer.

Girls.

Shots.

More girls.

Liquor.

Naked girls.

That about sums it up.

“Hello?” I shake her until one eye peeks open. “You need to leave, sweetheart. I have to go to work.”

I grab a sheet and wrap it loosely around my waist. I walk to my closet and pull out my suit for the day, partially excited that I get to ‘train’ my new intern—my hot as fuck librarian-looking intern.

“On the weekend?” she asks lazily as she shuffles around on the bed. “Mm...” she moans and pats the spot next to her on the bed, “come back to bed.”

“I can’t. I have to get in the shower. See your way out?”

Her expression tells me she’s offended, and her loud stomping on the floor clarifies that I’m right.

“Do you even remember my name?” she asks angrily as she scoops up her clothes that are scattered on my hardwood floor.

I smirk as she inches closer to me. “Do you remember mine?”

She scowls. “You’re an asshole.”

“Take a number, sweetheart. You aren’t the first one to think so,” I call out after her. She’s stomping down the hallway, and I just shrug.

* * *

Walking into work feels different today. I know it’s because I’ll be seeing her again and that she’s my intern. And knowing that she’s completely off limits.

I’m already in my office logging in reports when a soft knock is at my door.

“Come in,” I answer without looking up. I vaguely see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s not in her Grandma-wear, but she’s dressed appropriately for an office job—black, sleek skirt and a red shirt. I vaguely take in her shirt, noticing it reveals much more skin than before.

“Good morning, Mr. Leighton,” she says confidently. I finally look up and curse myself immediately for doing so. Getting a better view of her, I notice her clothes are clung tight to her, showing off every curve and her taut nipples. She’s smiling ear to ear and resting her hands in front of her.

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