The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(50)

“Ford,” I groaned, “what the fuck have I gotten myself into?” I drained the rest of my beer. If I wasn’t watching his daughter, I’d go for a second one, but I needed to be responsible for Eve. “When we met at the bar, I had no idea he worked for The Dalton Group, and when I walked into his office that first day, finding out I was his intern”—I shook my head—“things got interesting.”

There was a vital piece of information I was leaving out of this story.

But Ford didn’t need to know that I’d lied to Declan about blacking out.

“I’m trying to piece this together, but I’m getting the sense that you want to be with him.”

I shrugged. “Yes. No. Maybe.” I set down the bottle and my hands thrust into my hair, pulling the strands back into a ponytail. “I don’t even know. He’s mean. Cocky. Arrogant as hell. He’s … my enemy at this point.”

“Listen, I’ve known Declan for a long time. He’s a tough nut to crack, and he isn’t one to ever get into relationships. But once you break through all his bullshit, he’s a great guy.”

“How do I break through?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Guys like Declan want what they can’t have. It drives them fucking crazy; it makes them want it more. So, you need to act unaffected by him. Uninterested.” He washed down the frosting with the rest of his beer. “Make him believe he can’t have you.”

Ford wasn’t judging me. He wasn’t lecturing me about making poor decisions and crossing a line in the office.

That wasn’t the kind of guy he was, and I loved him for that.

“It sounds like you’re actually encouraging this,” I said softly.

“You need to be careful with your heart—I can’t emphasize that enough.” He let another second pass. “If this is what you want, then, yes, I’m for it.”

That was a bold statement.

One I heard very clearly.

“Understood.”

“Remember this, Hannah: even the dominant falls at some point, but that doesn’t always come without a war. And with every war, there are casualties, and sometimes, those wounds are irreparable.”

Every word vibrated through me, especially the dominant.

Like the kind who didn’t kiss women and never made exceptions to that rule.

But Declan had made one with me on the first night we met. Before he knew who I was. Before we barely even spent any time together. He’d kissed me against the wall between the two restrooms prior to even taking me into the alley, and then his lips had been all over mine once we reached that spot behind the bar.

Why?

Because I was different and he’d immediately sensed that?

Because he’d wanted to give everything to me?

But what didn’t make sense was that for someone who was so willing to give me his mouth, why had he run off with Madison? Why had he kissed her as well?

“Did I help?”

His voice dragged me out of a Declan cave.

“I think I’m more confused now than ever.”

“That’s a good place to be.”

“It is?”

He pushed himself off the counter and began to twirl his keys. “It means you care.” He walked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. “Just so you know, if you have another popcorn fight in my bed tonight, the both of you are dead.” He winked before he ascended the first step.

“How about a cupcake fight? The rainbow frosting would look fab on your black comforter.”

He leaned over the floating banister and looked at me. “You know … I think Declan Shaw has met his perfect match.”

“Ford!”

He laughed and continued up the flight. “Don’t deny it, Hannah. You know I’m right.”





I was in the middle of sorting through one of Declan’s files when the phone on my desk rang. When a call came from an interoffice line, it showed who the caller was. In this instance, it was from the office directly behind me, the door closed, the dickhead tucked inside his dark chamber.

I sucked in a deep breath and picked up the receiver. “This is Hannah—”

“I need you.” Declan’s voice was rough, deep. A mix between a lion and a Rottweiler. At first, I was semi-excited by his choice of greeting until he said, “Get in my office now,” and I knew I was about to face a rabid pack leader.

He hung up before I could respond.

I placed the receiver back in the cradle and pushed myself out of my chair, finding a steadiness on my heels before I hurried to his door. I didn’t bother to knock—it would only waste more time—and I found myself no longer breathing the second our eyes connected.

Since it was nearing the end of the day, his tie was slightly loosened, and his jacket was off. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular, veiny, dark-haired forearms.

Oh God.

Rather than waiting for his order, I sat in a seat in front of his desk. “Hi. What’s—”

“I had a meeting with Jenner.”

I knew that. Monitoring his schedule was one of my job duties.

“Walter Spade, the owner of Spade Hotels, is in some hot water over a land dispute. The conflict has gone into litigation, and the case will now be going to court, which means I’ll be taking over from here.”