Chapter 6: Olivia
“Olivia,” my new manager Lana practically hisses, nudging me to react with a sharp jab of her elbow. Pain radiates from the point of contact on my ribs, but still I don’t move. I can’t. I really can’t. It feels like every neuron in my body is firing out of my control and ceasing all essential functions. Am I dying? I think I might be dying. My brain spins, my tongue swells, and my lungs are basically screwed because I haven’t breathed in seconds.
This is how it ends: Slowly and painfully in an overpriced sheath dress on the first day of my summer internship.
“Are you okay?” Davis tilts forward and rests his arms against the top of his desk as he surveys me with interest—unyielding, intimidating interest.
“Oh, maybe she’s just a bit starstruck,” Lana offers with a (clearly fake) chuckle before glaring at me pointedly. Her tacit message is clear: Get your shit together, girl, and say hello to the Chairman of the Board’s son.
“Hi,” I finally blurt out, but it comes out unsteady, like a cough almost. Somehow, that’s so much more embarrassing than silence.
Davis lifts both eyebrows and straightens his spine before glancing at Lana. There, behind his gigantic desk, he looks undeniably impressive. And gorgeous, oh wow, does the man look gorgeous. In the eight years since I last saw him, he has shifted into nothing short of a Renaissance sculptor’s wet dream. He wears a perfectly tailored suit that hugs his slimmed-down body and makes him look every bit the son of a billionaire—and a future business tycoon in his own right. No more rosy cheeks or bashful grins hidden amongst boyish good looks. Adorable? Not anymore. Adorable is long gone. Now? Davis is devastating now.
“Hello there,” he responds, blinking quickly. He glances at Lana again, shooting her a look of faux confusion as if he doesn’t know why I’m enduring a mini stroke right before their eyes. “I’m sorry—did I miss something?”
“I didn’t know I would be working with you,” I cut in before Lana can offer another excuse for my borderline insane behavior. “I had no idea.”
“Well, Lana likes to surprise the M&A interns,” Davis explains with a nonchalant wave of his hand that somehow holds all the power in the room. “Although, perhaps we refrain from that in the future, Lana.” He nods as he speaks, magically making a mandate out of a simple suggestion.
“Yes, usually the interns are a bit more…animated when they realize they’re working with Davis,” she offers emphatically, glaring at me like she’s actively regretting bringing me on for the summer.
I don’t blame her. I can feel myself messing this up—both the reunion with Davis and this once-in-a-lifetime professional opportunity. The internship that every corporate-hungry douche in my MBA class was gunning for. I earned it. I practically cut throats for it. Now, I’m finding it impossible to get my head on straight. It’s my first day at Davenport-Ridgeway, I’m literally standing in the office of the eldest son of the Chairman of the motherfucking Board—a man who the company is literally named for, and the last time I saw the person in front of me was in Amsterdam.
When he sent me ten thousand dollars.
For fucking him.
“I’m sorry,” I muster up the poise to say. “I just didn’t realize that I would be working with someone so senior this summer.”
“Didn’t you?” Davis inquires, raising an eyebrow as he speaks. “This is the only internship of its kind at the company. We have dozens of finance interns, business development, marketing, sales—the whole gamut. Over a hundred MBA interns in the city this summer and twice as many in the Boston office. But you’re the only one doing M&A. It’s easily our most prestigious internship, so surely you could guess that we pull out all the stops.”
“I just assumed I would get a free iPad or something at the end of the summer, not that I would be working with you.”
Davis’s face curls into a simper, and holy hell is it destructive. He’s settled into his features so well over the years. His cheekbones have become more defined and he has a thin layer of facial hair that caresses his sculpted jaw in a way that has no business being so sexy. He’s so handsome—and he clearly knows it. There’s this wry smile that he wears as he catches me staring (practically drooling) at him. “Well, if you want an iPad, I’ll get you an iPad.” His words practically drip with confidence.
Lana lets out a laugh that luckily distracts from the sheer want that passes through me. That comment—that cocky, rich boy comment—makes me want to melt into a hot puddle on the floor of his gigantic corner office.
I force myself to focus, recalling the years that I’ve spent working towards this moment. This job. I invested hundreds of late nights and early mornings. I studied my ass off, networked like my life depended on it, pushed away crippling self-doubt, and poured every spare bit of energy I had into this. I can’t afford to let my beating heart and racing mind derail everything that I’ve worked for.
Focus, bitch.
“It’s nice to meet you, Davis.” I straighten my spine and try to force the resolve back into my voice. “I’m sure we’ll both make this a productive and professional experience.”
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s a ton that I can teach you,” he responds.
If innuendo had a face, it would be racing to its plastic surgeon with a picture of Davis Ridgeway clasped in its hand.
I glance over at Lana, begging for one more reprieve. She gives me another admonishing look and then clears her throat before saying, “So, you’ll meet with Davis at this time every Monday to go over the acquisition research that you’re doing on the two London prospects. He’ll expect updates, so you should be prepared with a concise agenda and your findings.”
“Sent in advance,” he adds. “I’d like to be efficient with our time.”
Ever the sycophant, I nod. “I’ll do that.”
Davis’s expression unfolds into a flawless impression of a man who has never seen the person in front of him naked. A man who has never been inside of her. He’s stone cold and so good at it, and that skill leaves me uneasy. “Perfect. I’m really looking forward to this summer, Olivia. If you need anything, let me know. Countless people have supported my career here and I’d love to pay it forward.”
His emphasis on the word “pay” is certainly not lost on me. I offer him a weak smile and hurry out of the room as soon as Lana opens the door.
The moment that I get back to my tiny closet of an office forty-something floors down, I let out an enormous exhalation and double over with my hands on my knees. Bile rises in my throat. That meeting was less than five minutes long, and somehow he managed to completely disarm me with some expertly-timed smirks.
This is happening. This is actually happening.
And no amount of deep breathing or pacing can make me avoid the inevitable truth: He’s going to make my life a living hell.