The Intern: Vol. 2

by Brooke Cumberland

  I ignore every call and email from Bentley. I know I have to deal with my consequences soon. I know he won’t just let it go. Let me go. But I’ll have to convince him, though.

  * * *

  It’s taking me days to read and dissect everything in my dad’s files. Although it’s a summary of it all, I find myself Googling the terms to even know what they mean. I don’t want to rush through, it’s my only piece of hope—I’m reading it thoroughly, word by word.

  Simon knocks on my door Friday afternoon with a suspicious grin and a grocery bag. I narrow my eyes at him as he lets himself in.

  “Come in,” I mock. “What are you doing here?”

  He spins around and eyes me carefully. “I’ve known you for years, Celia. Long enough to know when something is wrong. You’ve been off all week.”

  I tilt my body forward, chancing a glance inside his bag. “And you’ve brought me cookie dough and ice cream?” I tease.

  “I’m not a chick,” he retorts. I raise my eyebrows at him and he sighs in defeat. “But you’re a chick, so of course, I brought you junk food.”

  “I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”

  “Well, I’m kidnapping you. Pack a bag and meet me at the car.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You haven’t told me to fuck off all week, so that’s when I know there’s something wrong.” I laugh at his bluntness.

  “Fine,” I groan. “Meet you in five.”

  Simon lets me dig into the cookie dough on the ride to his house. I’ve been sleeping over at Simon’s for years. His parents are super laid back, and I secretly think they are hoping something happens between us, but it’s never going to happen. Simon is like a brother to me.

  I had shoved the file in my purse before we left, because, at this point, I’m out of options. Simon’s extremely smart, so if there’s anything to be deciphered from my dad’s case, Simon will figure it out.

  “Okay, girlfriend. I’ve sugared you up, gave you caffeine and ice cream, and even let you walk around in those hideous yoga pants. Time to spill.”

  My spoon stops mid-way to my mouth just as I was about to devour another spoonful. “Hideous?”

  “Well, they aren’t exactly attractive.”

  I shrug, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. “Good thing I’ve turned lesbian. Girls dig yoga pants.”

  He rolls his eyes and laughs at my dramatic speech. “You couldn’t be a lesbian if you tried. You enjoy dick too much.”

  I spit the ice cream out, shocked at his words. “Simon!”

  “You and Cora think you talk quietly at lunch when you discuss your little girl shit. I can hear every word,” he confesses.

  “Oh, my god, that’s so embarrassing.” My face heats at the thought of Simon hearing all the juicy details from last year when I dated Jason. “No, I’m erasing this whole conversation out of my head. Never happened.”

  “Whatever you say, sweet bottom.”

  I gasp loudly as my eyes dramatically bulge out of my head at the words he just said. Sweet bottom.

  “I so hate you right now. I cannot believe you heard all that last year.”

  “Every word, baby,” he taunts.

  Sweet bottom was Jason’s nickname for me. At the time, I thought it was cute, but now I cringe just hearing it aloud.

  For the next hour, I tell Simon everything about my internship at Leighton Enterprises. I leave Bentley out of it, but I explain how I applied, interviewed, and used Casey’s transcripts to get inside. He was both impressed and worried about me, knowing the serious repercussions if I were to get caught.

  “You are insane. Seriously.”

  I also describe the dreams and flashbacks about my dad. I tell him everything I remember about that day, and how my mother never seemed bothered that it ended up a cold case.

  “Wow…that’s intense, Celia.”

  I tilt my head toward him, silently begging him to understand my reasoning. “Simon, I need your help.”

  “You know I can’t say no.”

  I smirk. “I know.”

  I spread out some of the papers that I want him to take a closer look at—the evidence, the background history of his job, and his financials.

  “What exactly are you hoping to do, Celia?”

  I shrug, feeling hopeless. “I just need to know, Simon. I know my mother is hiding secrets from me. She won’t tell me anything. She hid that piece of paper about Samuel Anderson on it. I need to know that my dad was a good person and that whoever did this gets the justice they deserve. I know I’m in over my head, okay. I’m not that crazy. But I can’t just walk away. I have to at least try.

  * * *

  Hours go by and eventually, I fall asleep on Simon’s bed. When I wake up, he’s curled up on the other end with papers in his lap. I notice the energy drink in one hand as he holds a piece of paper in the other.

  I glance over to his clock on the dresser. It’s after 4AM.

  “You’re still up?”

  “Yeah,” he says excitedly. I adjust myself on his bed, sitting upright. From the looks of it, he’s completely wired.

  “Read anything good?”

  “Celia…this is all good stuff. Like, I think I’m finally figuring it out.”

  “Figuring what out?”

  “Your dad’s finances—they’re all over the place. One month he deposits thousands of dollars, the next he’s in the negative. For someone with a steady job and salary, it doesn’t add up.”

  “So what’s that mean?”

  “Well, it explains why your mom and dad were fighting about money, why your mom was hysterical about the money he spent.”

  “So you think it has something to do with his death? Like maybe he owed someone a lot of money and he couldn’t pay them back?” My heart begins racing as I try to put the pieces together.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s too soon to know for sure. There’s a lot more in this file I have to go through yet.”

  “But what if does have to do with money. I mean, we live in a nice neighborhood, and always had nice things. We lived on one salary and yet never went without.”

  “Perhaps there’s a reason for that.” He looks at me sympathetically, silently telling me what I’ve feared this whole time—my dad wasn’t a good guy.

  Bentley

  The last thing I was prepared for was Ceci leaving me—again. I wasn’t sure if she was upset about my parents coming in or if it was something else.

  Having my parents bring up Hannah’s name again stirred my emotions up. It’s not something I enjoy thinking about.

  The very girl who screwed me—over and over again. I believed every word she said to me, every word laced with lies and deceit.

  I was fresh out of graduate school when I started working exclusively at Leighton Enterprises. Saying goodbye to my modeling career, my father slowly taught me things throughout my college years. It wasn’t until I had my master’s degree that he finally gave me access to all the files and confidential information. Information news reporters and magazines would do anything to get their hands on during a big story.

  Enter Hannah Whitman. Twenty-two year old college graduate from Penn State. Education major with dreams of teaching first graders. Sweet, sexy, and full of complete shit.

  Enter the real Hannah Whitman AKA Hannah Winters. Twenty-five year old post-graduate student in journalism.

  I’ve been known to think with my cock before my head. Shit, it happens. Especially, when beautiful, young girls throw themselves at you. Especially, when you’re a high-profile model with nothing to lose.

  She made a fool of me. I let her in—too close. She stole all of my files and sold them to another company. They were later recognized for solving the case. Not only did they report on it for months after—my mistake constantly shoved in my face—but it almost ruined Leighton Enterprises. New security measures were taken and the battle of taking Hannah to court began—still in the process of making her pay for all that
, but more than likely, she’ll make a plea bargain.

  It’s been hard to let anyone in after that. I went back to one-nighters and emotionless sex—that was until I met Ceci.

  I curse the second I realize she’s left. I text her how sorry I am and beg her to come back and talk with me. I know she’s humiliated, but my parents are the last thing we need to worry about right now. As long as no one in my office finds out, we’re in the clear until her internship is over, and then I don’t fucking care who knows.

  I’ve called her thirty-six times in the past six days. No answer. I’ve emailed nine times. No response.

  Nothing.

  By Friday, I can barely take it. I don’t know if she’ll show up for her internship on Saturday. I don’t know if she’ll ever talk to me again, and I hardly understand why.

  I’m filled with so much rage, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand seeing her without slamming her against my desk and fucking her until she comes to her senses. I wouldn’t even stop if my own mother walked in.

  I’m agitated the entire day. I snap at everyone who tries to speak to me. Even my own secretary flipped me off when I told her where to shove that piece of shit stapler.

  I need to see her. I can’t wait another fucking night. It’s killing me. I don’t know what she’s doing, what she must be thinking or who the hell she could be with.

  I dig into her intern application and find her home address. If she’s going to insist on hiding from me, I’m just going to have to find her.

  * * *

  After showering and getting dressed, I head out. I anticipate she’ll be pissed, but I don’t care. I’m not letting her walk away without giving me answers first.

  I pull up to her house and notice it’s in a nice neighborhood, mainly filled with families and children. I begin sweating nervously, unsure if I should get out or not. This isn’t where I expected a college-aged student to live with a household of roommates. Perhaps they were renting from a family or she was living with hers?

  I wipe my hands on my jeans and get out. I walk to the front and knock firmly on the door. My nerves eat at me until a young woman opens the door, her eyes bulge out of her face as she scans my body.

  “Good evening, I’m sorry to bother you—”

  “Yes.” She licks her lips seductively. “Whatever you’re selling, I’ll take it.” Her lips form a flirtatious grin.

  I grin and stifle a laugh before responding. “Um, sorry I’m not selling anything. I’m actually just looking for someone. Ceci? Ceci West. Does she live here?”

  Her smile instantly drops and she frowns. “Ceci?” Her eyebrows rise in question. “Sorry, she’s not here.”

  I exhale, disappointed. I shift uncomfortably before asking, “Do you know where she is? Or when she’ll be back?”

  She cocks a hip. “Who are you? And what do you want with my little sister?”

  “Little sister?” My eyebrows narrow. “Like a sorority?”

  She laughs. “No…like I’m her big sister.” She puts her hand out in front of me. “I’m Casey West. It’s nice to meet you—”

  My body tenses. No, freezes. Hell, I don’t know what the fuck it does, but I’m stunned shocked. My body’s autopilot takes over as I grab her hand in mine and shake hers.

  “Casey, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Bentley.”

  “Pleasure’s all mine.” She continues her seductive tone. “I can let her know you stopped by. She’s hanging with Simon tonight. She’ll probably get in late, but I can—”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll just, um, catch up with her later.” I nod pleasantly and make my way back to my car.

  I can’t control the emotions flooding in as I take in what I just learned.

  Casey.

  Shit.

  It’s not even her fucking name!

  And who the hell is Simon?

  My mother’s words reluctantly re-enter my mind… Make sure she isn’t another Hannah.

  Fuck.

  * * *

  End of Volume Two

  ###

  Books by Brooke Cumberland

  The Riverside Trilogy

  Kitchen Affairs, Book #1

  Kitchen Scandals, Book #2

  Kitchen Promises, Book #3

  or grab the complete box set!

  -All available now-

  The Spark Series

  Spark, Book #1

  Burn, Book #2

  Flame, Book #3 (Companion novel)

  or grab the complete box set!

  -All available now-

  The Intern Serials

  Vol. 1-3

  Coming Soon

  Bad Girlfriend

  About the Author

  Brooke Cumberland is a USA Today Bestselling author who's a stay-at-home mom and writes full-time. She lives in the frozen tundra of Packer Nation with her husband, 3-year-old wild child, and two teenage stepsons. When she's not writing, you can find her reading love stories, listening to music that inspires her, and laughing with her family. Brooke is addicted to Starbucks' Caramel Macchiato’s, yoga pants, and sweets. She found her passion for telling stories during winter break one year in grad school—and she hasn't stopped since.

  You can find Brooke on

  Facebook

  Twitter @blcumberland

  www.brookecumberland.com

  Pinterest Page

  Instagram - AuthorBCumberland

  Click to join the mailing list

  Acknowledgements

  I truly don’t even know where to start. There are just so many wonderful people that have helped me along this journey. So many that have been with me since the start, so many new ones. It definitely takes a village to write and promote a book. This is no “one-person” task. Not only that, it takes hours and hours of hard work. And not just from me. Betas, fans, bloggers, my editor, my PR - Christine, AKA “Brooke’s Bitch,” and my cover designer, Sommer, AKA “Brooke’s Bitch #2.” They’re getting matching shirts made, too. Nicole, my new teaser-making genius. I mean, I could go on and on. It really takes a heaping amount of people to make this happen and for that, I am truly and humbly grateful.

  My wonderful betas, you are truly sent from God. That’s my only explanation for how amazing you are, how you give great feedback, make me a better writer, and your unconditional support. I’m so truly thankful for you all. *Warm fuzzies*

  To my author support 101 group – there are so many of you, but I feel like I “know” you. We’re not just a group of friends, we’re family. We truly want the best for each other. That’s what I love about it. We boost each other up when we’re down, fist-bump when one of us does amazing, and encourage one another when things aren’t going as planned. It’s my go-to group every day, and I love each and everyone of you. *kisses*

  Erika Ashby, Christine Stanley, Megan Noelle, Tabby Coots-

  I feel like I wake up talking to one of you every morning and go to bed chatting with you every night. Without you four, my life would be just a shell. You’ve been a support system, a quirky bunch, friends that are more like family.

  Erika – Thanks for befriending another Night Owl fangirl and fangirling with me. It’s become so much more than that. Support and a good face slap when necessary. I value our friendship so much. I might have an attachment issue. Just a FYI for you.

  Christine AKA BB#1 – Thanks for stalking me for your blog. Probably the best stalker in the world. Thanks for ALL you do, which is a ton! You’re an amazing friend and badass PR. Thanks for boosting me up when I’m “grumpy” and giving me virtual wine and chocolate. *Many kisses.*

  Megan – You’re the J to my PB sandwich. So happy that we were able to find each other online and connect. I consider you a close friend and value all the support from you. So thank you! *hugs and kisses*

  Tabby – You’ve been with me for a long time. Ever since Spark you’ve been my #1. You are so supportive, so helpful, so sweet. You’ve become my beta reader, my brainstorming partner, my friend. Thanks for putting
up with me all this time. Thanks for continuing to be my friend when I have my “less than nice” moments. And I wish you the absolute best luck & wishes on your writing career. *Huggies*

  Whitney G. AKA My Professional Stalker - You’re a rockstar and I look up to you so much. You’re stronger than you realize and I admire your work ethics. Thank you for sharing your secret weapon with me! You’re so nice, so sweet, and so willing to help others around you. Can’t wait to meet you (real soon!) P.S. *side eye* Andrew is mine.

  Brittainy C. – I knew you could do it. You’re amazing. You’re always so sweet and willing to help your fellow authors. You’re awesome and an amazing friend. #WisconsitesUnite! Soon we will meet and drink ourselves in Starbuck caffeine and Chinese food.

  Bloggers/Reviewers – Thank you for taking a chance on a 25,000 word serial novella. I know they aren’t for everyone, so thank you for giving it a chance and for giving me a chance. You’re kindness doesn’t go unnoticed and I’m very appreciative of it.

  Readers – You are the real rock stars. Your love for books and authors amaze me. The energy you give into sharing and talking about books drives Indie authors like me to keep doing what we love to do. Word of mouth is so important and you don’t have to do it, yet you do for the love of books. So thank you for all you do. Thank you for loving books and indie authors and for your reviews. Thank you for being the reason indies can self-publish and live our dreams. *Lots of hugs and kisses all around*

  The Intern, Vol. 3

  Coming July 16, 2014

  I should’ve known.

  I should’ve listened to my gut.