Yours If You Want Me by Gigi at Inkitt

Chapter 1: The Intern

I don't know why, but I always felt like I was born to be rich.

Clearly, I was not born into wealth, but I always felt it would find me.

A winning lottery ticket, a distant dead relative, a sudden rise to superstardom, a millionaire sugar daddy, or like maybe I don't know...

My best friend and her super rich, hottie millionaire of a boyfriend.

When Sophia met Peyton, I knew that it would be beneficial to her in ways I couldn't even dream of. And yet, thanks to the alignment of the stars and the generosity of my bestie's new man, some of those blessings have extended unto me.

And that's how I found myself in paradise.

The Bahamas to be exact.

And honestly, I never knew if I would actually make it there.

Not with the way Sophia and Peyton were unpredictable.

Seriously, one minute she's texting me about how amazing he is, then she's calling me crying because she broke up with him and then she's about to assault some poor driver.

The whole thing was a blur but alas, here I am, under the Bahamian sun, going from light skinned to brown skinned, freshly braided, a killer pedicure, designer shades on and a cocktail in hand.

There could not be a better moment in my life than the one I was experiencing.

The warmth of the sun, mid December made me internally cackle at the thought of my coworkers back in the Philadelphia winter.

I smirked to myself at the thought and nestled into my poolside chair, taking in the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the shore, the squawk of the gulls screeching above, the Caribbean music playing from the bar and...

And—

"You stupid boy!" The voice of an older gentleman floated on the breeze. "Did I hire you to embarrass me?"

"No sir," a much gentler voice came.

"Idiot!" That first voice snapped. "Get your head out of your ass or I will fire you!"

My head turned instinctively and I tilted my sunglasses down so I could see clearly.

All the way behind me, a young g man stood with another old enough to be like, his grandfather.

He was scolding him so harshly, I was afraid it might turn physical.

They were both dressed formally.

Way too formal for this weather. Dark, expensive, heavy luxury suits with ties so tight, I could feel myself choking me just looking at them.

The young man hung his head low like a kicked little puppy dog.

There was a part of me that wanted to interfere. Defend the boy. Give him some back up.

But those suits were like a warning.

I was here because of a business retreat.

Anyone here could work with Peyton. And if I made him look bad, Sophia would never forgive me.

I was told to behave and so far I was being good.

No sticking my nose into anybody's business, no stepping out of line, no drawing attention to myself.

I had to be the most civil Cierra I could be.

It was hard not to eavesdrop though. That crotchety old man was so mean. So entitled. Ugh, so arrogant. I was waiting for the young man to quit.

I clocked him immediately as a low level employee yet someone vital enough to get invited on this trip.

Intern.

An important intern.

Or more likely, an intern to someone very important.

After turning back in my chair, I blocked out the negativity, closed my eyes and sipped my refreshing drink.

Their voices eventually faded and I felt like I was able to relax again.

Then I heard that young voice, discreetly behind me, followed by a glass clink behind the bar.

I cracked one eye open and angled my head just enough to see the reflection in the mirrored shelves.

The intern.

He glanced over his shoulder once.

Twice.

Then back again.

He tipped a shot back fast, like he was committing a crime and grabbed a chaser like it could save him.

I giggled, unable to my help myself.

"I saw that."

He choked.

This boy actually choked.

And here, I was doing so good...

The poor guy sputtered mid-chaser, coughing with his fist pounding his chest as he leaned forward.

His eyes were wide and panicked like he'd just been busted.

I burst out laughing.

The young man straightened slowly, cheeks already a bright red as he scanned the area.

His eyes landed on me.

I tipped my sunglasses low and smiled unapologetically.

"Oh shit," he muttered, mortified. "I— I thought you—"

"Relax," I said easily, pushing myself up from my chair and moving closer. "Your secret's safe with me."

Up close, I really got a look at him.

And... wow.

He was cute. But like a little boy who'd just been scolded by his mother in public.

His hair a perfect soft shade of blond. Not bright or brassy. Cool and sandy with a dark sheen of product to push it back out of his face.

The guy was pasty though. I mean, skin pale enough the sun bouncing off him could blind me.

I tilted my head as my eyes trailed up his neck. Long.

I clocked the strong jawline and dark brows. Behind his thick lashes were bright blue eyes that rivaled the pool's hue.

I immediately pegged the light array of freckles across his face as my favorite thing about him.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, "it's a good thing you've got a suit on."

He blinked, still pulling himself together.

"Why?"

"You might burn up out here."

"Oh," he said quickly. "No, I'll be fine. I brought sunscreen."

I smiled wider at his inability to catch on.

"Oh, did you?"

"Yeah. SPF 100. Always," a nervous chuckle broke through.

I laughed again, unable to help myself.

"That's so... adorable."

He flushed harder.

I leaned an elbow against the bar, watching him squirm.

"So," I said casually, "was that your boss who just chewed your ass out?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.

"Oh, wow... You- You saw that?"

I tipped my sunglasses down just enough to look at him over the rim.

"Sweetie," I said gently, "everyone saw that."

He winced.

"Oh."

"What's his deal, anyway?" I asked.

He hesitated, then sighed.

"Mr. Norton. He's— Well it's not him. It's me. I fuck up everything somehow..."

"Norton?" I repeated, the name clicking immediately. Peyton had said the name before.

I turned my head slightly, still muttering to myself.

"Like Peyton's boss?"

The boy's eyes grew.

"You know Peyton?" he asked. "Peyton Clark?"

"Fortunately, I do," I said. "Or else I wouldn't be here."

Aaron swallowed hard.

"Are you... No, you're not Sophia?"

"No, I'm just her best friend. Peyton invited me to keep her company through the meetings and conferences and boring shit."

Aaron didn't skip a beat.

"He scares me."

That surprised me enough to laugh.

"Peyton?"

"He yells at me more than Mr. Norton does," Aaron admitted. "He hates me..."

I gasped theatrically.

"Who could hate you? You seem like a total sweetheart."

Aaron visibly smiled to himself, his eyes averting mine for the ground.

I reached out and squeezed his shoulder, unable to resist.

He took a second too long to process my touch, like his brain was glitching.

I studied him for a second, then asked,

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two," he replied.

I made a face. I didn't mean to. It just happened.

"Yeesh. Okay. You're a baby."

He frowned.

"I am not."

"That's like, two years older than my little brother," I added, smirking.

His ears went red.

And just like that, I admitted to myself that this was too fun.

"Look, kid—"

"Aaron," he said quietly.

"Aaron," I smiled, respecting that he finally gave up his name. "You gotta grow a back bone. Don't let people bully you. Especially not some decrepit old man you could beat in a foot race."

He snorted at that. A breathy laugh that put a gleam in his eye.

When he brought his eyes back up, they lingered on my chest. Which I mean, I can't blame him. The bikini was to die for.

"Eyes up here, friend," I scoffed with a smirk.

Aaron looked up, face bright red and turned in his seat.

"Shit, I- I— ," he stammered. "Sorry."

I squeezed his shoulder, really able to feel the fit arm that lurked beneath that suit.

"It's alright," I shrugged. "I get it. I'm hot."

"Yeah," he breathed. "I mean, I just... I think you're really... pretty."

"Please," I rolled my eyes. "Pretty is for paintings and flowers. I am a baddie."

"Right," he nodded. "Of course."

I waved the bartender over to refresh my drink.

The bartender slid down with a smile, reaching for my glass.

"Same thing?" he asked.

"Please," I replied, resting my forearms on the bar.

I chatted with the man making my drink for a second. He laughed, shaking up my bright, citrusy drink.

I didn't have to turn to know Aaron's eyes were glued to me. I could practically feel them tracing my mouth, the way I smiled and the way I leaned forward like I lived for the bar life.

When the bartender slid the drink toward me, I took a sip, then finally glanced back.

Aaron was watching me like a hawk. Almost calculating.

I arched a brow.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

His face went hot instantly.

"I— I'm not—"

"You are," I said lightly. "It's okay. I just want to know why."

He hesitated before clearing his throat.

"I just think," he said carefully, "you're... really friendly."

I laughed.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," he said quickly. "It's just— you make people feel comfortable. Like... you'd be really good at talking to anyone."

I tilted my head.

"Truer words have never been said."

"Well— And," he swallowed, "I think you'd be the perfect date for my company's dinner tomorrow night."

I paused.

I leaned back against the bar, studying him.

The way his shoulders had subtly caved in.

The way his presumably sweaty palms were splayed on his thighs.

The way he was already bracing himself for rejection.

"Aaron," I said gently, "how old are you again?"

His jaw ticked. Then relaxed.

"Yeah," he nodded, running a hand back through his hair. "I know you think I'm young. I'm sorry. You don't have to say yes. I just thought— I mean, it's fine if you don't want to."

The confidence drained out of him all at once, replaced by something painfully humble.

"It's just... I don't really know anyone here," he admitted. "And all the women at the company have husbands or partners. I don't think I'm gonna meet anyone on this island besides you."

Something in my chest softened.

I sighed.

"I'm just slim pickings, huh?"

He winced.

"No, I didn't mean it like that."

I watched him for a second. Just had to torture him a second longer.

Then I asked, "What's the dress code?"

His eyes snapped up and his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile.

"Formal."

I nodded.

"Of course it is."

"I can show you the invite," he said quickly. "It's not boring. I mean, it might be, especially for you but it's on a Yacht and there's an open bar and—"

"Relax," I said, holding up a hand. "I'm sold. I'll go."

His shoulders eased with a subtle breath of relief.

His smile broke through then.

It was bright, relieved, and incredibly boyish.

He asked for my phone and offered me his number for any questions I may have. He craned his neck to see what I saved him as.

I just put his name with the crawling baby emoji.

"Hey—" he protested but I cut him off.

"I'm already doing you a favor, kid. Don't tell me how to save you in my phone."

He swallowed hard with that ticking jaw again.

"Fair enough..."

He cleared his throat.

"What's your room number?" he asked, tentative. "I promise I won't stalk you or anything... I just want to be able to pick you up properly."