Kylie

“Thanks for the help, Rita.” I gave my new boss a small smile. Thankfully, my advisor at Georgetown called in a few favors and scored me the ultimate in journalism internships. I got to work—okay, for free, but still awesome—as a junior researcher at CNN.

“You're welcome, Kylie.” Rita checked her platinum and diamond watch and frowned.

Rita Weissburg-Smith embodied everything I hoped to one day become. Strong, confident, and at ease in her own skin. Women in positions of power inevitably got slapped with labels like “bitch” or “em

otional” or “harpy.” When it happened to Rita, she let the hatred and insults slide right off her custom-tailored Valentino suit. The woman was brilliant, talented, and didn't care what anyone thought. She was amazing.

“It's late, so I'm heading out. You have a good weekend,” Rita said as she tucked a lock of her shoulder-length dark hair behind her ear and effortlessly strode across the newsroom floor in three-inch heels that probably cost more than most people spent on clothes in an entire year. I sighed with envy. Rita looked every bit the role of powerful corporate executive.

“I will,” I responded. The fib left a bad taste in my mouth. “You have a good one, too.”

Rita disappeared and the click of her heels grew fainter with each step. I turned to gather my things from the drawer of my newly assigned cubicle on the huge newsroom floor. Piper Rigsby, one of a half-dozen interns who sat in the cluster of cubicles around mine, stopped typing to peer up at me.

“You could at least try to be convincing when you say that,” Piper said.

Confused, I looked down at the pretty brunette who occupied cubical next to me. “Say what, exactly?”

Piper rolled her eyes and grinned. “If you're going to be a journalist, you need to sound confident and truthful. That…” She shook her head. “That was pathetic.”

I scrunched my forehead. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Exactly.” Still smiling, Piper leaned back in her chair with an annoying smug look on her face. When I didn't respond, her smile slipped. Piper stood to meet me eye to eye, her expression sympathetic. “Hey, I know we’re all journalists and everything,” she waved around at the other interns, none of whom paid us any attention. “But I'm a good listener and I don't gossip. If you ever wanted to hang out, go get a drink or whatever, I'd be up for it.”

It took me a few seconds to catch on. Wow. Piper was able to see right through my act. She knew everything I said was a front. Knew my smiles and attempts at making small talk were forced. In the weeks since I left DC, I realized the one thing I really missed was Nat. Having a best friend I could count on. Someone to talk to, spill my guts and know I would never be judged. Piper was offering to be that person.

Her background actually made her the perfect confidant, what little I knew, anyway. She graduated from Columbia and I remembered someone saying that when Piper lived in New York, she briefly dated one of the Yankees. It wasn't hard to believe. Piper was gorgeous, friendly, and perpetually happy. Easy to talk to and accepting of everyone, faults and all.

Maybe Piper was exactly what I needed. My moods had been all over the place since I spent the night—an amazing, thought consuming, life-changing night—with Sebastien St. Clair. I had been distracted and restless, like my skin shrank a size too small. Not unhappy, exactly, but not content either.

“You mean like tonight?” I shifted from one foot to the other, nervous.

Piper giggled. “Yes, like tonight. So what do you say?” She put on her coat and grabbed her bag. “Want to get out of here?”

I relaxed and gave her a small smile. Piper had a talent, an innate ability to make people comfortable, less tense. What made it special is that she didn’t do it because she wanted something. It was simply Piper being herself.

“Desperately,” I admitted.

“Come on, then.” Piper jerked her head toward the exit. “I know just the place. We can walk.”

For the first time in the seven or so days since I snuck out in the early hours of the morning and left Seb asleep in his hotel room, I laughed. The surprising part, is that it was genuine.

"So that's the gist of it.”

I could tell Piper was trying not to let the shock show, not that I blamed her. It wasn't every day a coworker you hardly knew dropped a live grenade in your lap, then left you to fumble your way through putting the pin back in. But to Piper’s credit, she remained calm and composed throughout my entire unbelievable story—Sebastien St. Clair, the bizarre gift, his proposition, and me ultimately agreeing to meet him at a hotel for sex with little to no hesitation.

Oh, believe me, I left out a ton of details. No one needed the skinny on exactly what went down in that hotel room. What Seb did to me. What I let him do. Those details would forever remain a secret between Seb and me. I still couldn’t believe I shared my darkest desires with him, out loud. Not that I had any regrets. Seb turned my fantasies into the best night of my life.

“Well… That's, umm… Wow, Kylie. Just, uh, wow.” Piper shook her head and slugged back the rest of her vodka tonic, then slammed the empty glass on the table.

I fidgeted and stared at my hands. Crap, I probably should have kept my big mouth shut. The prolonged silence that followed made me squirm until I glanced up at Piper only to find her lips pulled into a lopsided grin. She shook her head again, eyes sparkling.

“Girl, I don't know if I should high-five you for being amazingly awesome, or lecture you for being unthinkably stupid.”

Relieved she wasn’t judging me, I let out a huff. “I prefer the high-five, but I totally get why you think I'm stupid.” Piper opened her mouth, but I held up a hand. “No, I get it. I don’t know him, like, at all. Certainly not enough to meet him alone in a hotel room, especially since I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

Piper gestured for the server and requested another round. After putting in our order, she turned to face me, giggled, and stretched her arm over the table, hand up, palm out. I stared at it until she cleared her throat.

Tags: Heather C. Leigh The St. Clair Brothers Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net