The Intern: The Billionaire's Successor

doesn’t happen though. I awaken to an email from Lana, asking me to present the outcomes of the trip to FundRight on Monday morning, which means my weekend is effectively over.

“I’ll call Davis and cancel,” I tell Charlie as I set up my laptop at the kitchen counter.

Blearily, Charlie is stretching on the couch in the makeshift bed that I’ve set up for him. “Ah, that sucks. Working on a weekend?”

I don’t tell him that my stomach fluttered and flipped when I read that email from Lana. That it made me feel like I was important somehow—more than just an intern. In lieu, I say, “I’ll send you some cash and a list of places that I think you’ll like. I know that’s shitty, but New York is amazing and there’s so much to do. You don’t need me to show you that.”

“Again with the money,” he drones. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were committing white collar crime. Insider trading—that’s a thing, right?”

“Definitely a thing.” Of course, I don’t tell Charlie that what I’m actually doing is so much worse.

Charlie wanders off to the bathroom and I get started on the PowerPoint for the presentation, which I’ll deliver to Lana’s boss and a couple of her colleagues. I’m heads-down for about forty-minutes, intermittently chatting with Charlie who helps himself to a cup of coffee and takes a seat next to me at the counter.

At around ten, my phone buzzes and I freeze when I see the name on the screen. Davis.

Davis: Coming up.

“Shit. I forgot to cancel,” I say exasperatedly as I look at my phone.

Charlie pushes a hand through his floppy auburn hair, which he then shakes back into his face. “Seriously? That’s a dick move, Olivia.”

“I know it is, but I didn’t do it on purpose!” I explain as I try to tidy up my workspace. “I’ll tell him we can’t make it. He won’t care.”

Charlie lets out a scoff in response, which makes me avert my gaze to glare at him. “Care to explain the scoff?” I ask, even though I know exactly what that scoff means.

Feigning nonchalance, he lifts a shoulder. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Little liar.”

My brother holds up both of his hands in the universal sign for Don’t blame me for your love life being more complicated than a Rubik’s cube. “Hey, I’m not going to get involved in your dalliances.”

By some miracle, I manage to temper my reaction and play it cool. “Dalliances? Please. Do you really think there’s something going on with Davis and me?”

“I’m, like, almost positive of it,” he answers smugly. “I’m more certain that there’s something going on with the two of you than I’m sure that my name is Charlie.”

“Is it…is it that obvious?” I ask, unsure if I want to hear the response. “Do you think people at work know?”

“That depends. Do the two of you snip at each other and give each other lingering stares at the office like you were last night? Or do you, like, wink at each other and do this over-the-top routine where you pretend you don’t like each other? Because if the answer to either of those questions is yes, then absolutely—people at work know.”

“That’s not good,” I counter, right as Davis knocks on the door.

When I open it, he pushes inside. “I saw a couple of interns in the lobby,” he comments briskly as he hurries to close the door. The tacit message: Let me in before we get caught. Apparently it might be too late for that though.

I can’t share my concerns with Davis in front of Charlie, so I just apologize and tell him about Lana’s request.

“That’s fine. I can just take Charlie,” Davis offers as if it’s the easiest and most obvious solution in the world.

“The two of you—alone?” I question immediately, right as Charlie declares, “Great idea. I’ll grab my stuff.”

I latch my hand around Charlie’s arm as he’s trying to pass me to get to the bedroom. “Hold on,” I object.

Charlie and Davis both look at me expectantly and I’m not sure what to say to either of them. I can’t very well say, “Davis, please don’t tell Charlie that you pay me to sleep with you, and Charlie, please don’t tell Davis that I’ve sent you nearly all of that money to cover college expenses. Oh, and if you both could refrain from talking about me at all that would be grand.”

“Have fun,” I finally say, admitting defeat. “And I’ll be at this for a while, so no rush.”

“Sounds good,” Charlie says, smiling broadly—so ominously broadly. “See you, Liv.”