The Billionaire's Intern Page 17

  She reminded him of Katie in some ways, and yet in other ways she was very different. Katie had never talked much about herself, focusing all her attention on him. And because he’d been a fundamentally arrogant and selfish young man, it hadn’t been till after she’d died that he’d realized how little he knew about her.

  Kira, though, did talk about herself and he liked hearing about her plans for the future and her thoughts on different subjects. There was a strength to her, a determination that Katie had lacked, and a kind of stubbornness that he found irritating as hell and yet couldn’t help admiring at the same time.

  She was always a challenge to him, and Katie hadn’t been that at all.

  It made him even hungrier for her. Even more desperate. So much so that letting her go in the mornings, pretending they were still only boss and intern, was becoming next to impossible.

  So don’t then.

  The thought flared like a torch, burning in his brain. He’d wanted to keep their relationship secret because he didn’t know when this thing between them would end. There were so many reasons why it was wrong, the age difference and the fact that he was her boss just a couple of them.

  But . . . she wanted him. And he couldn’t forget the look in her stunning blue eyes as he’d told her about his mother. About how he hadn’t wanted her to leave, his need for her damning her as surely as his father had with his manipulations.

  It was something he didn’t like to think about let alone speak of, so why the hell he’d revealed it to Kira, he had no idea. Yet she’d seemed to understand. She’d told him it wasn’t his fault, which he knew, and yet . . .

  You loved them. You wanted to protect them and couldn’t.

  Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. He should be protecting Kira by letting her go, too. But he just . . . couldn’t. After Katie had died, he’d thought that making himself into an island was the one piece of advice his father had given him that was worth taking.

  Yet he didn’t want to be a fucking island. He’d never wanted to. What he wanted was Kira. Her warmth and her bright magpie spirit. The wicked sparkle in her eyes she got whenever she teased him. The way she threw herself into his arms the moment they were alone, as if she was as starved for him as he was for her.

  He was hungry for her, and he didn’t think he’d ever be free of it.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to be.

  “The office is on the upper floors.” Kira was at his elbow, her heels tapping on the flagged marble floor of the hallway, jolting him out of his thoughts.

  They were passing an ornate staircase with a gold, filigree banister that curled upward, shining in the light like a stairway to heaven.

  “Okay.” He knew he sounded curt, but the reminder of her purpose here irritated him. It was almost as if that wasn’t as important as the need growing ever larger in his soul. The need to hold her and never let go.

  Catching the edge in his tone, Kira glanced up at him.

  Christ, she was beautiful today. She wore a pretty dress in ice blue with a fitted bodice and frothy skirt. The neckline was modest, cutting straight across her delicate collarbones, and the skirt just brushed her knees. There was nothing provocative about it, yet he got hard simply looking at her. The color highlighted her pale skin and brought out the blue of her eyes, and with her platinum hair swept up onto her head, she looked elegant and sophisticated.

  He wanted to back her up against the nearest wall, push up that skirt, tug aside her panties and bury himself inside her.

  Her blue gaze darkened, a wicked little smile curling her lovely mouth, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “And that can wait until after I find those files.”

  No doubt about it. She’d definitely known what he was thinking.

  Anger suddenly simmered inside him. He should just grab her, take her away, take her home. Get her beneath him in his bed and keep her there. Fuck this stupid plan and fuck his goddamn father.

  Did you really want Mom to have died for nothing?

  His jaw ached, and he had to look away from Kira’s smile, ignore the way it made the anger worse and the hunger for her bite deeper.

  Of course, he had to go through with this. How could he let himself forget who it was for? Selfish to push that aside simply because he wanted a woman.

  “Fine,” he said tightly. “We’ll mingle for half an hour first, then you can go upstairs. I’ll keep your father down here.”

  Her gaze narrowed, as if she’d found his comment unsatisfying in some way. But all she said was, “Okay.” Her hand made a movement toward him as if to touch him, but then dropped again.

  He wanted that hand on his arm. He wanted her touch.

  Wait till this is over.

  He gritted his teeth, saying nothing as they continued on to the end of the hallway where there was a set of double doors that led out onto the terrace. The garden party was in full swing, the terrace packed with the cream of Manhattan high society.

  Tubs of bright flowers were scattered everywhere, along with trees in pots, topiaries, and all sorts of other greenery, turning the space into a kind of English country garden. There were seating areas with couches upholstered in pale linen and tables with flickering candles on them even though sunset was still a couple of hours away. In one corner a string quartet played while white-coated wait staff circulated with trays of champagne and bowls of brilliant red strawberries.

  It reminded him of the party all those years ago and Kira tripping the waiter, wine glasses falling off the tray and smashing. People shouting. Her wail rising higher and higher, in shock at what she’d done. The fury on Ivan’s face at the interruption . . .

  You protected her then, that’s why you took her away, distracted her. You should be doing the same thing now. You should be protecting her from you.

  He shoved the memories out of his head as he and Kira stepped out of the hallway. Heads turned and soon Lorenzo was greeted by various people, all desperate for the opportunity to speak with him about different business issues.

  Normally he wouldn’t have minded this in the slightest since he detested small talk, but now he resented the attention. He didn’t want to talk about business, not even about issues that were of vital importance to DS Corp.

  He wanted to grab a glass of champagne and go sit somewhere quiet with Kira and talk about meaningless things. Or of things that meant everything. Or not talk at all, simply sit there in silence, holding her hand.

  But he couldn’t. He had to focus on the people around him, had to ignore the lovely, slender woman at his side. Or at least he tried to. Difficult when every part of him was achingly aware of how close she was standing to him. Of the smell of her warm, sensual perfume and delicious, musky scent of her body. Of the exposed, vulnerable curve of her neck and the pale wisps of hair that clustered there. Of the need he had, deep inside, to put his hand on the back of her neck and hold her gently, so everyone knew who she belonged to.

  Her voice, light and slightly husky, haunted him as she talked to the man beside her, and every so often he lost the thread of his own conversation, too busy listening to hers.

  In the end, he had to draw aside the colleague he was speaking to in order to concentrate, because it was impossible with her right next to him. Even then, when he should have been paying attention to the other man’s words, his gaze kept returning to Kira where she stood about a yard away. Another man was talking to her and Lorenzo could see by the avid look on the bastard’s face that it wasn’t only a business connection he wanted to make.

  It was all Lorenzo could do not to go over there, punch the asshole in the face, and drag Kira away from him.

  After he’d finished his conversation, Lorenzo turned away from her to give himself some relief, going over to the side of the terrace and leaning against the big stone parapet that bounded the edge. He kept his back to the crowd, fighting down the clawing possessiveness that kept urging him to find Kira and take her away, take her back to his townhouse and keep her there. Perhaps
for another week or maybe even a month.

  Maybe forever.

  And what if it was? What if that’s exactly how long it took to sate himself on her? He wouldn’t mind that. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

  “Is it time do you think?” Her voice at his elbow again. “Unless you want to slip away and show me how to fold a paper crane?”

  Every muscle in his body tightened at her nearness. He wanted to smile at her comment, tell her she was too old for paper cranes and that he could think of something else to show her.

  But no. They had a mission they were here to complete. There’d be plenty of time for other things later.

  Slowly, Lorenzo turned around and met her blue gaze. “No cranes,” he said flatly. “It’s time.”

  * * *

  Kira was nervous, she couldn’t pretend otherwise. It fluttered in her gut like a small bird beating its wings against a cage, but she put her hand on the ornate gold banister and started up the stairs all the same.

  Strangely, she wasn’t nervous about getting caught. Sure her father would be suspicious and wouldn’t be pleased to find her sneaking around in his office, but who cared about that? She decided she didn’t. She was over seeking his approval. She didn’t need it, not when she had Lorenzo.

  But then it was because of Lorenzo that she was so nervous. She didn’t want to screw this up for him.

  He’d been so confident she could do this, which made it extremely important to her that she not let him down. Especially considering all the other people in her life that she’d either disappointed or failed.

  She had to show him he was right to put his faith in her.

  At the top of the stairs, she went left down the hallway, moving down to the last door on the right, fighting the urge to wipe her damp palms on her dress.

  Nero was on standby, waiting for her to put that drive in the computer, so all she needed to do was get past the locks on her father’s office door.

  Jesus, he better not have changed the codes on her, not after she’d told Nero and Lorenzo she had them.

  The music of the party had faded, though she could hear the odd buzz of conversation drifting up the stairwell. Luckily there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

  She glanced quickly down the hallway to see if anyone had followed her, then looked at the keypad on the door frame. Her mother’s birthday, easy. Hitting the numbers, she waited for the blinking green light to indicate the door had unlocked.

  But it didn’t. It flashed red instead.

  Shit. He had changed the codes.

  Her mind raced, a burst of disappointment and shock threatening to overwhelm her and drag her under. She wasn’t going to be able to do this if she couldn’t open the door, but she’d told Lorenzo and Nero she could. “My money’s on Kira,” Lorenzo had said, so certain she could do this.

  But the codes had changed, and now she couldn’t concentrate, a thousand terrible thoughts spinning through her brain. Thoughts of disappointing Lorenzo. Thoughts of the friends she’d killed in the accident. Thoughts of her parents’ faces as they’d looked at Kira’s report card, so unhappy with her “pass” grades, not realizing how hard Kira had worked to simply not fail . . .

  Focus. You can do this. Lorenzo thought you could so you can.

  Fuck, yes, she could. She would. She wasn’t going to let him down, not now.

  A shudder of determination went through her as she grabbed control of her flailing brain, focusing on the keypad in front of her and not on her spiraling thoughts.

  Okay, so her father had changed the code. To what? The lock would only allow three attempts before it locked her out completely so she had to get this right.

  His birthday perhaps? No. Her father’s security tended to be very simple, but even he’d think that too easy. So, it had to be something else. What about her parents’ wedding anniversary?

  She keyed the number in, but again, the light flashed red.

  Crap.

  Her heartbeat ramped up. Only one attempt left, and she was going to have to get it right. She swallowed, trying to think, trying to focus. There were no other significant dates that she could think of except . . .

  But no, it couldn’t be her birthday, could it?

  She blinked at the pad then reached out and keyed in the numbers.

  The light flashed green, and the lock clicked, and she was conscious of a lurch inside her. A small catch of feeling. But there wasn’t time to examine it, so she simply opened the door and stepped inside before closing it firmly behind her.

  Her father liked his decor masculine, with lots of library bookshelves, paneled wooden walls, and a couple of deep leather armchairs. The pictures on the walls were landscapes of rugged-looking mountains, wide blue skies, and rolling fields, with a couple of pictures of horses thrown in for good measure.

  Right in front of her was a huge wooden desk with a slim desktop screen on it.

  Kira headed toward the desk, skirting around it and seating herself on the office chair behind it. Then she flicked the button on the computer and waited for the machine to boot up.

  There was a brief moment of panic when a password screen came up and she blinked at it for a full minute, because she’d forgotten that of course she’d need a password to log on. For a moment, she contemplated contacting Nero and getting him to hack the password to give her access. But then she shook her head and focused.

  She could open the door, she would get into the computer.

  Staring at the screen, she tried to think of what kind of password her father would use. Again, it would be something simple, yet personal to him.

  So what did he like? Definitely music, he’d been a fan of the Blues from way back. In fact, he used to sing this one song all the time. Something her brain had latched onto. Muddy Waters, her father had told her and she’d run around saying “Muddy Waters Muddy Waters,” over and over again, because she liked the sound of it.

  Kira blinked. Then entered “Muddy Waters.”

  The desktop screen came up immediately and a rush of triumph went through her, making her grin like a fool. Hell yeah, she was doing this.

  Pulling the thumb drive out of her purse, Kira stuck it into the port, then texted Nero, who replied with a list of instructions. She followed them carefully, then sat back to wait as the screen flashed and windows opened and the little drive lit up.

  It took a while for Nero to do whatever it was he was doing, and several times she got up from the chair to pace around her father’s office while she waited, starting to get slightly nervous about how long it was taking. Eventually, she picked up a piece of paper and started folding it in a series of practiced, precise movements.

  Five paper cranes later, her phone buzzed with a text from Nero. Got it.

  At the same time, a text came through from Lorenzo asking her where the hell she was, but she didn’t stop to text him back. She’d been in here far too long already, and it was time to leave.

  Pulling the drive out, she logged out of the computer and shut it down. Then she swept her cranes into the wastebasket beneath the desk, pausing to slip the smallest into her pocket for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom but didn’t question. Then she quickly crossed the room and opened the door.

  And walked straight into her father.

  Chapter 12

  Lorenzo looked at his watch again.

  She was taking too long.

  Ivan was with a group of people by the entrance to the terrace, which was fine, so there wasn’t a huge rush. But still. He didn’t like that she’d been up there fifteen minutes and hadn’t come back. It made him antsy, made him want to go up there and check she was okay, that she hadn’t run into any difficulties.

  He glanced back at the entrance again. Ivan wasn’t there anymore.

  A cold feeling twisted in his gut. Kira had told him that she’d just play her pretty airhead card if anyone caught her, but he didn’t like the idea of her getting confronted, not by anyone. And then if Cesare found out . . . Chr
ist. His father was a hard, cold bastard and if he had any suspicion about what Kira was doing, he would be unforgiving.

  Jesus, he should never have asked her to do this for him.

  Lorenzo didn’t think, he headed straight to the terrace exit, brushing off people who greeted him. He needed to get to Kira. He needed to make sure she was okay.

  You always want more, that’s your problem. And then people get hurt . . .

  Taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time, he reached the hallway, glancing down in the direction of Ivan’s office. There was no one there. The cold feeling wound tighter.

  He strode down the hallway to the office, pulling open the door without ceremony. And a cold shock went straight through him.

  Because inside, Kira was standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, big blue eyes wide, looking up at the man who was standing over her.

  Ivan.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” she was saying. “I didn’t mean to be in here. The door was open and—”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Ivan cut her off tersely. “I keep that door locked at all times.”

  From out of nowhere, a deep, protective rage gripped Lorenzo and before he’d fully thought about the fact that perhaps launching himself like a missile toward Ivan—especially in defense of a woman who was only supposed to be his intern—wasn’t the best idea, he’d taken two steps across the room, putting himself in between Ivan and Kira.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded furiously, taking a step forward and getting right up in Ivan’s face.

  The other man’s eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled back. “I’m not doing anything.”

  Lorenzo took another threatening step. “Yes, you were. Leave her the fuck alone.”

  Ivan blinked at him. “I was only asking her why she was here in my office when the door is normally locked.”

  He knew he was acting stupidly. That pretty soon Ivan would start asking questions about why Lorenzo was getting so angry on Kira’s behalf. And that was a suspicion he didn’t need right now, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop.