The Intern: The Billionaire's Successor

“It was great,” I replied. “Davis and I had—”

“Sorry I missed out,” he continued, cutting me off. “I felt like absolute shit when I woke up. You’re going to need to remind me to hydrate better tonight. Olivia, are you coming out with us?”

“Am I?” I asked, eyebrow raised as I looked between the two brothers. “I didn’t know you had plans.”

“Invite her to dinner,” Kieran practically ordered before taking another bite of the croissant.

“Oh,” Davis said, bobbing his head as though this were a given. “Will you have dinner with me—us? Sorry, us, tonight? Our dad wants us to go to this restaurant as a favor to a friend or a—”

“Crony,” Kieran filled in.

“Sure,” Davis conceded. “Anyway, we’re all dreading it, so we’re going to go out afterwards. You should come with us.”

“Maybe. I don’t usually go to restaurants run by people who are friends with guys like your father. I’m not sure—”

“We’ll pay,” Kieran chimed in. “I mean, not actually. It’s free. Dad’s paying, right?”

“No clue,” Davis replied, which simply elicited a shrug from Kieran.

“Whatever. Don’t worry—someone else is paying. Do you want to come?”

“If it’s not going to mess up your plans, I’ll definitely come,” I decided. “Davis, is that okay?”

“I’ll pick you up from your hostel and we can walk over together,” he offered, the words coming out hesitant. He only glanced up at me at the end of his suggestion. “Does six thirty work?”

Before I could confirm, Kieran announced, “It’s settled. Davis will get you at six thirty, you’ll have dinner with us, and after that we’ll hydrate and keep this party going. Problem solved. But hey, Davis, don’t you have that thing?”

“I do,” he seemed to realize as he drummed his hands on the tabletop. “Olivia, sorry, I’ve got to take off. There’s this quarterly earnings call that I like to listen to, and my dad—”

“No problem,” I assured him, as if I understood what he was talking about. “I’ll plan to see you later.”

“Great,” he said as he stood and chugged the rest of his coffee. “Kieran, can you hang out with her while she finishes her coffee?”

“I’ll take good care of her.”

“Thanks,” Davis said as he looped around the table. “I’ll see you later.”

Once Davis was gone, Kieran and I were alone for the first time. I didn’t expect that to be quite as uncomfortable as it was, but it was like this storm cloud settled over us as soon as Davis was out of earshot.

Kieran looked too much like his brother. They both had these stoic, chiseled features, but there was no softness to Kieran—not like Davis who was blushing cheeks and bashful grins. No, Kieran was all sharp corners—and he seemed to like it too. I could tell by the way he winked at the waitress who came by to clear Davis’s cup; Kieran had no interest in being sweet.

“My father always invites Davis to do these kinds of things. Earnings calls and other ‘serious business.’ He’s grooming him to join the company one day. Did he tell you all that?” Kieran asked as soon as the waitress was gone, breaking the silence between us.

“He may have mentioned it.”

“I’m so glad I don’t have to do any of that shit,” he went on, groaning as he leaned back in his seat, looking like he owned it. “I would hate it—being at daddy’s beck and call at all hours, going to business school. I’d rather eat a brick and shit it.”

My brother, Charlie, had the same habit as Kieran: pretending he hated things that deep down he really wanted. “I feel bad for kids who stay in and play video games all the time. Imagine playing on an Xbox when you could be outside.” Or, “I think it’s cool we do Thanksgiving just the two of us. People talk about it like it’s stressful to have these big family dinners.” I kept my mouth shut though.

After a long pause, Kieran let out a sigh. “You want something,” he said, letting his eyes pass over me. “Right?”

“Not really.”

“Let me rephrase that: You need something,” he corrected, his expression somehow knowing as he presented the idea. “Single girl, alone in Europe, no plans whatsoever, but you’re quick to accept invitations to the Rijksmuseum or dinner. It all adds up to you needing something.”

I lifted an eyebrow as I looked him over as well, surveying the flawless cut of his jacket. It was a simple black jacket that he wore over a white t-shirt and jeans, but the whole ensemble still screamed I’m a rich motherfucker and I’d love for you to know about it. “And what is it you think that I need?”

“Money,” he answered succinctly. Smugly. “And don’t bother telling me I’m wrong because we both know I’m not.”

Forcefully, I shook my head. “I’m not answering that.”

“I’ll give you two hundred bucks to answer the question right now,” he countered.

Like a fool, I considered the offer for several seconds, which only made Kieran simper. “There. I think I have confirmation.”

“Fine. If you insist on prying into my personal business, I’ll share. The asshole who brought me to Europe dumped me and ditched me, and I have two weeks to figure out how to get enough money to get back to the States before school starts. Happy?”

“No. Bored, mostly. How much do you need?”

“Look, if this is the long way of telling me to stay away from your brother, don’t bother. I don’t want his money.”

“You think I care about Davis’s money? I don’t. He’s got plenty. On the contrary, what I want is for you to do anything but stay away from him.”

“What do you mean?”

Kieran’s expression was borderline maniacal at this point. It was like he was able to scent my disorientation and it was somehow sustaining him like he was some kind of schadenfreude vampire. “Dear, I want to pay you to fuck my brother.”

I took a pause to replay those words in my head, trying to come up with a similar sounding sentence that made sense. Surely I misheard him. Surely. That was the only explanation, because there was absolutely no chance that Kieran Ridgeway, the son of one of the richest men in the world, had just offered to pay me to sleep with his older brother.

“You look confused, so I’ll say it again,” Kieran drawled, the amusement too apparent in his mien. “I’ll give you five thousand dollars to fuck Davis. Tonight. I haven’t flown coach before so I don’t know how much money you need, but five thousand is probably what it would take to get you from here to…”

“Missouri.”

“God,” he exclaimed, practically gagging. “All of this to go to Missouri?”

“Go to hell.”