The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(82)

I didn’t feel that way now as I stood with my back to the door, hearing her sob before I walked to the elevator.

In fact, I felt even more fucked up than before we talked.

As I got into her lobby, I pulled up Dominick’s number and held the phone to my ear while it rang.

“Declan,” he answered, “can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something and—”

“No need to,” I replied. I was going to pour myself some scotch when I got home, and I needed to be of sound mind when I had this conversation with him. “Just make room in your schedule for me tomorrow morning. First thing. I need to talk to you.”

“Are you all right, buddy?”

I got into my car and started the engine. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.”

I hung up and placed my phone in the cupholder and pulled onto the street, weaving my way through the cars. I wasn’t more than a hundred yards from Hannah’s building when a text came across my screen.

Hannah



Nothing has hurt me more than seeing you walk out that door …





TWENTY-FOUR





HANNAH





I sat in the chair across from Dominick’s desk and crossed my legs, holding the to-go coffee mug in my lap even though I was leery about whether my stomach could handle the strong brew. “Thanks for coming in early to see me, Dominick.”

Long after Declan had left my apartment, I’d texted my cousin, asking if we could talk in the morning. He’d told me to meet him in his office at seven thirty.

“Declan called me about an hour before you did last night and also requested a meeting,” Dominick said. “Tell me, does one have to do with the other, or is this merely a coincidence?”

My chest hurt.

It had been hurting since Declan had told me his side of what had happened at the bar. That was twelve hours ago, and he hadn’t replied to my text. He hadn’t called. But he’d phoned Dominick and requested a meeting. There were only a few days left of my internship; Declan wouldn’t try to reassign me at this point.

Would he?

“I don’t know why Declan asked to speak to you,” I said. I set the coffee on the edge of his desk. I couldn’t hold it; I couldn’t even look at it anymore. “But I did come in here to talk to you about Declan.”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

I’d gotten no more than an hour of sleep last night, so I’d had plenty of time to prepare myself for this conversation. I’d rehearsed it—out loud and in my head.

But as I hugged myself in this chair, I couldn’t remember a damn word.

“I want to start off by saying Declan has been an incredible mentor. I’ve learned a tremendous amount over this last semester, things the classroom never taught me. Working with him, watching the way he conducts business, how he practices—it’s given me a foundation that I’m extremely grateful for. But even beyond that, he’d given me chances to apply what I’ve learned. Like a few weeks ago, when we met with Walter in Wyoming, he allowed me to lead that discussion and present the results I’d found during my research. I even gave Walter my opinion on what I thought the outcome would be in his case.”

Dominick’s hand moved to his chin, combing the whiskers of his beard. “Interesting.”

That response caused me to pause. “Why do you say that?”

“He must really believe in you if he allowed you to lead a meeting with Walter—or with any client for that matter. Even though you’re a Dalton, you’re still only an intern, Hannah.”

At the time, I’d assumed it was because of my personal connection with Walter. But Dominick had a point. Since that trip, Declan had allowed me to weigh in during several other client meetings. Knowing that he controlled every situation he was in, the only reason he would have allowed this was if he trusted me—trusted that I’d done my research, trusted that I was going to present the correct information.

“With that being said, Declan’s mentorship isn’t what I want to talk to you about,” I admitted.

“All right.”

This was the hard part.

And the tightening in my throat, the slickness on my palms only made it more difficult.

“I know Declan was pretty adamant about assigning me to a different litigator at the start of my internship, and I don’t want that, in any way, to reflect poorly on him. You see … we have a bit of a past.” I looked at the coffee cup, testing my stomach to see if I was ready for a sip. I kept my hands in my lap and continued, “Before the two of us came to work here, he mentored one of my law classes, and that’s where we originally met.” I paused, thinking of the right way to word this. “And that’s where things progressed outside the classroom. You know, we took things to the next level—physically.”

“I see.”

“But here’s where things went all wrong, Dom.” I’d worn my hair down, and I gathered all the strands into my hand, my fingers acting like an elastic. “There was a misunderstanding. I thought we were going to continue our night and see much more of each other. That didn’t happen because, in my eyes, he stood me up. And then we never saw each other again.”