The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(24)

Declan was quiet for a few moments. “Your cousin works in HR?”

“No.” Strands of my hair fell into my face as I shook my head. “Ford is one of the partners. As are Dominick and Jenner—all my first cousins.”

“Wait.” His arms landed on the desk, moving his body closer to me. “You’re related to the Daltons?”

My hands were practically dripping with sweat. As I recrossed my legs, I shoved my fingers between them, hoping my skirt would soak up the wetness. “Their father and my father are brothers.”

More silence passed.

“That makes you …”

“A Dalton.” I bit my bottom lip. “I’m Hannah Dalton.”

“Hannah Dalton,” he repeated. He dropped his gaze to the desk, appearing like he was processing the news, exhaling loud enough for me to hear. “A bit of information that would have been helpful to know that night.”

That night.

A night I wished I could take back.

A night that had obviously meant much more to me than him if he’d so easily left me at the bar to go to Madison.

A night I didn’t want to discuss with the man who was now my mentor, whom I would be working closely with for the next semester.

And a night I never wanted my family to find out about. I wouldn’t be fired—I knew that much—but I didn’t know what would happen if my aunt and uncle or even Dominick, Jenner, and Ford found out that Declan had fucked his future intern. That he’d left me alone at a bar. That he hadn’t even had the decency to make sure I had a way home.

I couldn’t have that evening hanging over us.

I couldn’t let on that I was upset about what he’d done.

I certainly couldn’t acknowledge that I’d fallen for him in a matter of minutes, and even though I’d tried pushing him out of my brain, I couldn’t, and I’d thought of him every day since.

There had to be a way out of this. To avoid the conversation altogether. To start fresh as two people who had just crossed paths in a classroom, nothing else.

And then it hit me.

Why couldn’t I have been too drunk to remember what had happened between us?

In order for Declan to prove I was lying, he’d need to bear the burden of showing that I was guilty beyond all reasonable doubt.

The only evidence that existed was the dirt I’d found on my suit jacket and tank top from him stripping them off me and throwing the clothes to the ground. He didn’t know I’d found the stains the next morning and sent them to the dry cleaner.

He also didn’t know there had been an ache between my legs when I woke up, the soreness a constant reminder throughout the day of the pleasure he’d given me and just how large he was.

The last thing he couldn’t prove was how alcohol affected me, that after several shots and a few martinis on an empty stomach, I could have been a forgetful mess.

The way I saw it, he had no case at all.

But, oh man, lying wasn’t the angle I wanted to take. It wasn’t the way I wanted to start this internship. It made me sick to think that I was going to be this dishonest about the sexiest night I’d ever experienced in my life.

As I stared into Declan’s eyes, melting from a gaze so strong, I knew there was no other option.

So, I clasped my hands in my lap, trying to look as innocent as possible, and said, “That night? I remember our time in the classroom when you were mentoring me, and from the little bit I can recall from the bar, I believe we had an enlightening conversation. But, admittedly—and this is so embarrassing—I don’t remember anything we spoke about.” When I shook my head this time, I tucked the loose strands behind my ear. “I definitely shouldn’t have drunk that much on an empty stomach.”

“Hold on a second …”

His eyes scanned me, and I knew he was trying to read me. Something he’d done so easily before, but I wasn’t going to allow that now. Layers of masks covered my face, blocking his penetration.

“You don’t remember … anything? Or just our conversation?”

“Anything, honestly.” I winced like I felt bad about it. “Wait, that’s not true. I think you said something about blue cheese olives.” I paused. “That you liked them? Or maybe hated them?” I shrugged. “Oh gosh, I don’t know.” My eyes widened, and I put my hand over my mouth. “I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself. Or do something silly. Or—oh God—inappropriate. That would make for a terrible first impression … and I’d be mortified.”

I didn’t even sound like myself. I sounded like Madison, except she’d be twirling a piece of her hair around her finger, chewing a piece of gum.

I hated this.

I hated myself.

I hated the way I felt.

I hated the way he was looking at me.

But I certainly wasn’t going to address how much I’d loved the way my wetness tasted on his lips or why he hadn’t taken me home or how I knew it would be almost impossible to find a man who made me feel the way he had.

I needed my new boss to treat me with respect, not someone he’d thrown away.

I needed him to know I had skills other than the ones I’d shown him in the alley.

He meshed his fingers together, his fists clasped. “You didn’t … make a fool of yourself.”