The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(37)

“Trust me, I’d rather be eating brownies with you.” She laughed lightly. “And finishing that yummy bottle of wine.”

Did she not realize how important this case was? To the firm? Dominick? Me?

“Are you okay? You sound … tense.”

I adjusted my position to hear her better.

“Oh no, babe.”

Babe?

Who the fuck is she calling babe?

“I wish I were there too.” She paused. “As soon as I get out of this hell, I’ll be there.” She exhaled. “I love you.”

I heard the clunk of her phone as she set it on the table.

I love you?

Had she started hooking up with someone since the night at the bar?

Or had she already been dating him?

Whoever he was, he was important enough to be loved.

I didn’t know what the fuck to think as I walked into my office, but I knew I needed a goddamn refill. I’d left my glass in the conference room, so I grabbed a new one and poured several fingers of scotch, bringing the tumbler over to my desk.

I didn’t know why I was allowing this to bother me.

It shouldn’t matter if she had a guy in her life.

But for some reason, I couldn’t stand the thought of another man making her smile.

Of his hands touching her.

His lips.

For him to make her moan—

“Declan! Come here!”

At least when she interrupted my thoughts this time, it was because she was talking to me.

Or trying to.

I brought the glass up to my mouth, the scotch burning the remnants of chocolate off my tongue.

If she had something to tell me, she could come to me.

I wasn’t a fucking dog.

I didn’t move from my desk. I busied my hands, replying to an email, staring at my computer screen as she walked in breathlessly.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“I heard you all right, but I’m not going to drop everything and come running to you.” I took my hands off the keyboard and surrounded the drink. “You got my attention, Hannah. What do you want?”

She didn’t move from the doorway. “Please come back to the conference room. I want to show you something.”

“You can tell me in here.”

She came closer, holding the edge of my desk. “Please?”

She’d asked nicely.

I even liked the neediness in her tone.

“This had better be good,” I sighed and followed her down the hallway into the conference room.

She had taped the newly found evidence to the whiteboard and had several stacks of papers piled on the table—an organized layout, unlike the mess that had been in here before.

“I can’t tell you how many times I read those email exchanges, looking for the answer in their conversations. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t seeing it.” She moved over to the whiteboard. “I thought maybe the emails had been edited. Maybe they had been Photoshopped. Maybe there were more emails not included here; therefore, the proof was really taken out of context.”

I took a seat. “And?”

She smiled. An expression so beautiful that I felt it all the way in my fucking gut. “I realized what I was really looking at.”

“Don’t waste my time, Hannah. Get to the point.”

She flattened her hand sideways against the board, using her pinkie like a ruler. Even though I was too far away to read what was above her finger, I knew it was the area where the email addresses and subject line were listed. “That isn’t Kennedy’s email address.” She pointed to each of the sheets, emphasizing her point, and then she lifted the stack of papers off the table and walked them over to me. Her finger went to the top of the pile, where she’d highlighted text. “This is his email address.”

“You might be able to entertain your babe with your theatrics, but you’re boring me to death.”

Her brows rose. “Wait. My … babe?”

“Your voice carried into my office,” I lied. “First, you bitched about being here. And as if that wasn’t enough, I had to hear your goddamn love confession.”

“Oh.” She swallowed.

“Do you think I want to be here, spending my evening with you? My fucking intern, who doesn’t know her ass from her elbow? Watching you flail around like a fish I just plucked out of the water? Please, Hannah, there are a million other things I’d rather be doing right now.”

“Fuck you, Declan.” Her stare changed to a glare. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it was my roommate. The fire alarm had gone off in our building. She’s hanging out with my brother, and they had to evacuate. She was just letting me know.” Her hands balled into fists. “She sounded stressed, and I told her I loved her—that’s what you heard.”

Fuck … me?

She was playing naughty—and I liked it.

At the same time, the relief came in hard and fast.

I didn’t know why. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

“Stop deviating. You’re wasting my time.” I nodded toward the stack of papers. “What does this revelation—as you would call it—have to do with the evidence?” I ignored the way my hard-on was pressing against my zipper. “Our client has two email addresses. Most of us do. So what?”