The Intern Serials: Complete Box Set (19 page)

Chapter Seven

Bentley

WATCHING CECILIA WALK out of my office twelve months ago shot a dagger through my heart. As much as I wanted to hate her for what she did, I couldn’t.

I was no longer
falling
for her.

I had fallen.

But none of that mattered anymore. We went our separate ways, living our separate lives. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. And why would I? There was no way to repair what had been broken…

Or so I had reminded myself for the last three hundred and sixty-five plus days.

At first, I wanted to scream at myself for how stupid I was to ever let Ceci get that close to me. I should’ve known better—should’ve held my guard, but it was inevitable. My body had noticed her before my mind had a chance to catch up.

Looking back over those weeks, I should’ve seen it. The signs were there. The last name, the recommendation letter, her hiding in my office.
God.
So fucking stupid.

I resigned shortly after that. I knew I was letting my father down, so what was the point? My father didn’t trust me after I told him about Ceci—fucking up twice in two years will do that to you. I had failed him, and better yet, I had failed myself. I wasn’t there for the right reasons, and it was time I do what I really was meant to do.

I had to start living my life for
me
.

When fall arrived, I’d wake up before the sunset. It would be freezing out, but I didn’t care. It cleared my head, giving me validation that I was alive—that I could feel even after all the damage that’s been done.

I thought about her every morning as I ran. I thought about the first time I saw her, the first time I fucked her, the first time I woke up and she was in my arms.
All the shit that was built on lies and deception.
All the reasons I needed to clear her out of my head for good.

*   *   *

With my headphones in and hoodie up, I sit back and look out the window. We’re flying to Brazil now—another photo shoot by some famous photographer that my agent, Angie set up. It’s good for PR, she always said. It’s good for your image, she’d continue.

Sure. Whatever.

No matter how far away I am, or how many miles I put between her and me, it doesn’t matter. I still feel her. And worse, I miss her.

I thought this would help me get over her. Get over what happened—the lies, the betrayal, the fucking heartbreak. If anything, it’s made me numb. Completely numb.

My phone beeps through my headphones and I see it’s a text from Angie. Landing in 20.

Finally.

I’ve been living on planes and in hotel rooms for the past six months. It’s made it easier at least. Easier to keep her off my mind, but with the long flights, my mind tends to wander.

Feeling the plane prepare for it’s landing, I think of her. I think of the times we spent together, the times we snuck around in my office, the times we skipped dinner and went right for dessert. I think of all the times that I thought of telling her how I really felt about her—how I had fallen for her. However,
I
wasn’t even sure I grasped it then. Once the truth came out, all those feelings turned to ice, making the rest of me frozen and unable to feel anything at all.

Although modeling has its perks, it’s insanely isolating. It’s numbing—which is perfect.

As a model, the media and press want every inch of you, every secret, and every intimate detail. The best part of being in the spotlight is having agents and representatives do all the talking for you. I sign autographs, wave, and do as I’m told—without having to attach to anyone.

The partying used to be something I wanted. It was the main reason I hadn’t wanted to work for my father just yet, but now it was a chore. Now it was
business.
Or networking, as Angie reminded me.

“Let’s go.”

We walk off the private plane and toward the stretch limo. It’s past midnight, so luckily, it’s dark out, and no paparazzi will be around.

Angie follows me into the limo and hands me my schedule. It’s packed solid for the next week—shoots and interviews. Being off the modeling grid for two years was almost ‘career suicide’ as what I’ve been reminded of for the past six months. Luckily, my agency was eager to have me back and to represent me. It’s not something that’s common in this field. Once you leave, you’re usually out for good.

We arrive at the hotel, which is more of a palace. I follow Angie’s lead and make sure to keep my head down as we walk in. After check in, she hands me my key and leaves me alone for the rest of the night.

This is basically my life. Flying from country to country, living in hotels, being alone. Rinse, wash, and repeat.

But I can’t say I regret it. I’m doing something I love, something I’m good at doing. I just wish I could feel happier about it…and stop thinking about the
what if’s
and
if only.

I work relentlessly the entire week in Brazil. Angie keeps my schedule packed enough that it doesn’t take much for me to pass right out each night. Some of the events last until two or three in the morning, meaning I only get five or six hours of sleep before doing it all over again.

I’m relieved when we finally arrive back in the states. I plan to hibernate in my condo for at least a week until I get over this jetlag.

By the fourth day in a row of eating Chinese take-out, I finally drag my ass to the shower. The hot water pours over my skin, burning the flesh until it’s bright red. But I don’t care. My thoughts take me back to the times Ceci joined me in the shower. The way her body would press up against me while goose bumps would appear over her skin. The way she’d bend over in front of me and spread her delicious legs just for me. No matter how much I try to erase those memories, they fly right back in.

My cock stands at attention as I visualize her on her knees, mouth wide open for me. God, she looked perfect like that. So damn beautiful. So anxious to please me. And so fucking good at it, too.

I firmly wrap my hand around my cock. I stroke it as I think about her, her lips wrapped around me, her perfect wet mouth. Her tongue would slide from my shaft to the tip. She’d repeat the motion several times over before I could no longer take it and she’d finally push it into her mouth.

My hands would flock to her head as I yanked her hair in my fists. She’d release the sexiest moans I’ve ever heard as she swallowed every drop of me.

My hand strokes my cock harder as I think about the way she’d look up at me. She loved watching what she did to me, the control she had over me at that moment.

I pump my fist more aggressively until the skin is raw. I envision her face as I release into my palm. My body shakes as the water streams down my body and washes away all the evidence—the memories I should be letting fade down the drain.

I grab my bottle of whiskey and shot glass and walk to the kitchen. It needs some serious TLC with all of the take out boxes and silverware scattered everywhere. But, as usual, it reminds me of Ceci.

A year later and she still consumes my life.

I lean up against the counter and tilt my head back as I take a shot. As the liquid burns its way down my throat, I relive the moments Ceci and I have had in this kitchen.

The naked moments.

The fun, playing around moments.

The moments we were just Bentley and Ceci.

Those moments were now gone.

After my fourth shot, I still can’t stop thinking about her. Her scent. Her laugh. The adorable way she woke me up already riding me.

“Fuck!” I slam my shot glass down and tilt my body against the counter, my hands the only thing keeping me up as I feel like crumbling to the ground.

She may have lied like Hannah. Deceived me like Hannah. Hell, she even fed me the same bullshit as Hannah—but she
wasn’t
Hannah.

I didn’t feel this way.

I didn’t break.

I didn’t want her back after finding out what she did.

No matter how much I try to distract myself with kickboxing and modeling, it’s never enough. She’s always on my mind—since the last time I saw her.

I push myself off the counter and grab my keys and head out my front door.

It’s lightly sprinkling out, but I can tell it’s going to start pouring soon. I brush a hand through my hair, shaking it out as I get in my car and start the engine.

The nerves catch up to me before I realize what I’m even doing.
I find myself parked on the opposite side of her street. She might not even live here anymore for all I know. It’s an impulsive move, but that doesn’t stop me.

The moment I see another car pull up, my body instantly reacts—my heart races faster and my skin feels as if it’s on fire. It’s far enough out of view that I can’t see the driver, but the anticipation of seeing her is strong enough to kill me.

I grip the door handle about to step out when I see her exit the front door of her house. I look back to the car and see a guy exiting the car. Shit. She runs full speed toward him, screaming something, and wrapping her entire body around him—her arms clamp around his neck and her legs wrap around his hips. She’s laughing and screaming as he spins her around like you see in some cliché, cheesy chick film.

She’s stunning. Her hair is longer, but she looks exactly the same. Her eyes light up and her lips form into a wide smile as she eyes him. She’s obviously excited to see whoever the hell this fucker is.

I let go of the handle and ball my hands into fists. Son-of-a-bitch. I should’ve known. It’s been over a year, she isn’t still thinking of me. Why would she?

Cue the anger, insecurity, self-pity, and heartbreak—it all comes at the same time my heart cracks even more—parallel to the regret that’s building up inside.

Clearly, I’m dreaming this.

Or drunker than I thought.

As I jerk the car back into drive, I watch as the guy puts her down and lays a kiss on her mouth. Bastard. I race down the street needing to get out of there as soon as possible. What was I thinking? Why after all this time was she still on my mind? Why couldn’t I fuck any girl after her? The realization frustrated me. I slam my hand against the steering wheel wondering when I allowed myself to become this person.

New strategy—focus on work. Find a hook up. Get a fucking clue.

Chapter Eight

Cecilia

“OH, MY GOD, You’re finally back!” I scream as Simon swings me around like a child. “God, I missed you!”

“I missed you, too!” he yells back. “But I’m pretty sure you just blew my eardrum out.”

He sets me down and lays a kiss on my lips.

“Sorry.” I smile up at him. “I just…you have no idea how excited I am to see you! Living here with my mother every day has been a fucking nightmare.”

We walk into the house, slightly wet from the rain, and we immediately go up to my room to chat. “That bad, huh?” he asks, sitting on my bed.

“Our conversation consists of ‘hellos,’ ‘goodbyes,’ and ‘Don’t forget it’s your turn to take out the trash.’” I mock my mother’s tone, flashing my best fake smile. “It’s been hell.”

“She still won’t talk to you about your dad?”

“Nope. She’s pretty much set that in concrete with ‘never ever go digging into your dad’s case again or else!’ lecture.”

“You think she’s going let you go to the lock box in two years when it’s time?” He shuffles himself comfortably against the headboard.

“Whether or not she lets me, I’m going. I don’t care what it takes. It’s my right just as much as it’s hers.” He nods, agreeing. “I’ve thought about it so much that I’ve now convinced myself my dad was in the mob, he was their gambling dealer, and when he started losing, they called for a mob hit,” I say in all seriousness. “I might’ve let my mind wander a bit,” I say after Simon gives me a wide-eyed expression.

“I think you’ve been watching too much HBO.”

“It’s likely.” I laugh in agreement.

*   *   *

I wake up in the middle of the night, pressed firmly against Bentley’s rock hard body. I can feel his chest pumping calmly with each slow breath. It feels natural—like home—being with Bentley.

He stirs behind me and nuzzles his nose into my neck and hair, moaning. His hand runs down my body and reaches inside my pants. It doesn’t take long for me to realize what he’s after.

I shimmy my ass against his growing erection, feeling it expand through his briefs as he rubs it harder into me. “Mm…” I moan as my head falls back and he begins kissing my neck, which is now covered in goose bumps as my body anticipates his touch.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” he growls softly in my ear, his hand making its way to my pussy. He curls a finger inside making me jump at the intrusion. I moan out in desperation, wanting—
needing
—more. “Is this what you want? Tell me,” he demands.

“Yes. God, yes.”

He inserts a second finger, and then a third, stretching my walls to the brim. He works his fingers in and out, harder and deeper, making me dripping wet as he teasingly tortures me.

My hips match his rhythm, moving in sync as he drives into me faster. I whimper and moan as he drives me into an orgasm, my hips jerking with his powerful movements. His mouth covers mine as he wraps a leg over holding me still. His bodyweight feels amazing as I ride out the intensity.

He breaks the kiss as he climbs on top of me, flashing a mysterious grin as he lowers his body. He pulls my shirt up slightly and begins feathering kisses down my stomach. The softness of his lips is driving me insane as he makes his way toward my already aching pussy.

“Bentley,” I whimper. “Lower.”

I feel him smile against my stomach, but he doesn’t give in. Instead, his lips make a path up my stomach and land on my breast.

“God, Bentley.”

His lips wrap around my nipple, sucking hard as my body frenzies underneath him. He’s torturing me and he knows it, too. His hand cups my other breast as he works my nipple, slowly and playfully teasing me.

“Pants…” I gasp.

“Yes?” he asks, amused.

“Off.”

“I’m not wearing pants,” he muses, laughing at how worked up he’s gotten me.

“Asshole,” I groan as I shift underneath him, pulling his mouth off me. “Take. Off.
My
. Pants.” I clarify.

His lips form into a devilish grin as his hands make their way to my waistband, pulling them down my legs and throwing them to the floor.

“Better?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes,” I breathe out, pulling him back toward me. “Much better.”

I pull him out, hard and ready. I stroke his shaft firmly as his tongue licks from my collarbone to my neck, and then makes its way to my mouth, sucking on my tongue before letting his dance with mine.

“Ceci…” he moans as I pump him harder.

“Hm?”

“Oh, god…” he breathes out, unable to keep up with our greedy kiss. “God, I love you.”

My head pops up to his eye level and my hand freezes the second I hear his words—
those words.

“W-What?”

…
why the fuck is my phone ringing?

“Bentley…what did you just say?”

“Answer your damn phone!” a voice in the distant screams.

Bang, bang, bang.

I gasp loudly at the sound of my door about to fall down. I look around and notice the sun shining into my room—it’s morning.

I look around anxiously and finally realize my phone’s ringing.

“Cecilia!” Nathan screams again on the outside of the door.

“Sorry! Chill out,” I yell back in a daze from my dream.
Just a dream…

Never fucking fails. At least once a week, Bentley enters my dreams, torturing and taunting me of what I had. What we had. What I screwed up.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now, that it’s been long enough and that I should be over him after all this time, but if it were even possible, it’s only been worse. Since Bentley is always in the spotlight or featured on some magazine, it makes it impossible to forget my feelings for him.

I grab my cell from the dresser and pick it up. “Someone better be dying,” I answer without looking at the caller ID.

“Are you sleeping?” It’s Cora.

“What gave it away?” I groan, sleepily rolling over and closing my eyes.

“Sorry, but I have news. Big news!” she gushes. I can tell she’s ready to burst at the seams. I decide to sit up and prepare for whatever it is she’s going to tell me.

“Okay, I’m ready. Tell me.”

She squeals all giddy, making me pull the phone away from my ear. “I need you to pick me up from the airport today!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m flying in. I’ll be there in four hours.”

“WHAT?” I scream my eyes going wide. “You’re coming home finally?”

“Yup. Oh, god, I can’t wait to see you!”

“Yes! I’m so excited! Simon just got here, too. I’ll finally stop being a hermit by myself and the three of us will be back together for the summer,” I say happily, the smile reaching my eyes. I’m so happy.

“Ugh,” she groans. “I haven’t seen Simon since last summer. Not sure I really want to.”

I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Seriously, you two are going to get along—whatever weird liking, not liking each other thing you have going on.”

“Fine,” she moans. “As long as I can pretend he doesn’t exist, they’ll be no arguing.”

“Whatever works, I guess.” I laugh. “So, what terminal are you coming in?”

We finish our conversation and I immediately shower and get dressed. Cora didn’t even come home for holidays, so it’s been ten long months since we’ve seen each other.

Being with Simon and Cora again feels like home. It’s comforting to be with my two best friends again, but also painful. So much is changing so fast and there’s nothing I can do about it except embrace it and enjoy our time together.

I end up getting a job that summer as a cocktail waitress. I take whatever position I can find that gets me out of the house most nights. Cora takes a hostess position so we can spend more time together, and Simon visits us just to annoy us. But it was perfect, nonetheless—I get to be with the two people that really ground me.

Not knowing answers to my dad’s case still haunt me. I anticipate being able to open my dad’s lock box in two years. It feels like forever, yet I know it’s not. It’s sooner than never knowing at all, and I can wait since I know that I’ll find out his secrets soon—hopefully.

Simon and Cora hookup once at the end of summer—kind of their way of saying goodbye, I guess. I try to not question it, but my mind spins at all the times they’ve taunted each other all summer. But then again, it makes complete sense.

Saying goodbye was the worst part of the summer. Simon transferred to a school in Florida after his study abroad. The romantic in me thinks it’s so he is close to Cora, but both of them deny it.

Casey comes home for the Fourth of July and looks completely different. Her hair is short and dyed bleach blonde with pink underneath. She’s lost a good twenty pounds and wears sunglasses as big as her face. She’s gone complete diva. But I love her and spending that short amount of time with her was amazing.

Mom and I still don’t talk much. She continues working a ridiculous amount of hours, and when she is home, we rarely make eye contact. A part of me knows she’s nervous being around me since I know some of dad’s secrets. Soon they’ll all be out, and she won’t be able to deny anything. Until then, our relationship will continue the way it is.

I look around my room that I spent the last three months in. It looks the exact same as when I came home from college. I didn’t put up any new pictures or even change the color of my sheets. It still doesn’t feel like my room anymore.

I load my car with my luggage and a couple boxes packed with my things. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon, or at all, once my second year was completed. I’d probably look into an off-campus apartment or something.

“I love you,” my mom says quietly as she stands by my car. “I’m glad you came home.”

I swallow as I stare expressionless at her. “I love you, too, Mom.”

She leans in and we awkwardly hug goodbye. I wish I could say what I really want to say, but it’s not the way I want to leave things with her. For now, it’s just awkward silence and glances, which is better than fighting with each other.

“Drive safe. Text me when you arrive, okay?”

“Sure.” I flash a weak smile at her. I open the driver’s side door and get in. I sit down and look back at my childhood home that’s filled with secrets and tainted memories.