Intern For My Best Friend's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance by Flora Ferrari (different e readers .TXT) 📕

“I’ve got business to attend to at the UK office. But I swear, the second I return, you’re the first person I’m going to see. And I know I’m going to go crazy thinking about you when I’m over there.”

“Just business, yeah?” she murmurs.

“Just business,” I growl passionately. “I’d die before I so much as looked at another woman. Sophia, you need to know something. Just now, what we did, it’s the first time I’ve done anything with a woman in almost twenty years.”

“What?” she gasps, sitting up and staring down at me with her brown hair tussled across her face. “You’re kidding me, right?”

I smirk. “Nope, not even a little bit. Why would I? I never had reason to before I met you before you set something alight inside of me that won’t ever be extinguished. So don’t you see? I’d never do anything with another woman. You’re the only woman for me.”

I reach up and smooth dark strands of hair from her face, smoothing it behind her ear.

“If you want, we can …”

She trails off, voice wavering. I can tell she’s only saying it because she thinks it’s what I want to hear.

“Don’t do that,” I tell her. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to warp yourself into what you think I want you to be. Just be, Sophia. That’s all I ever need from you. Well, that and complete fucking obedience when my cock is rock hard inside you. And a promise that you’ll never act inappropriately with another man.”

“Never,” she moans, touching my hand.

I smirk. “Then we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sophia

The next few days without Solomon are like having a piece of my heart removed. Even as I think the words, something flashes awake inside of me, telling me I’m being melodramatic and it makes no sense.

You’ve only been intimate a few times. You hardly know each other.

The words try to make themselves real in my mind, try to hammer the message home, and yet they feel like empty air, attached to no meaning.

I can’t lie to myself and say that just because what Solomon and I have isn’t conventional, I don’t feel it.

Caitlin is busy with college work, so I don’t see much of her. We talk on the phone here and there.

With every conversation, I feel the revelation trying to bubble up on my lips, trying to explode and tell her the truth. But then I imagine her screaming at me or, worse, the line going dead.

Maybe she’ll send me a text moments after the call is done.

I never want to see you again.

I check my phone every morning for a text or a call from Solomon. Even if we haven’t officially exchanged numbers, I know it’d be easy for him to access the employee database and get my cell. But all I get instead are Facebook notifications and emails and all the other boring things that have nothing to do with the man of my dreams.

It’s hard to focus today, sitting at my desk as I look down at my work. I’m sketching out a border for a water-relief appeal in a magazine. They want the waves to roll together, to imply crashing and mayhem, but at the same time to come into some sort of unified order.

Just like me and Solomon, then, I hope.

Crashing, turbulent … but, in the end, we’ll find a calm stretch of ocean that’s just ours and everything will be perfect.

I sigh and open the drawer, glancing at my phone to see if Solomon has called or texted.

When I see that he hasn’t, I try to forcefully remind myself that what we shared in that private office – when we were lying together on the couch, enveloped in each other’s warmth – meant something.

He wasn’t lying to me.

He wasn’t tricking me.

“You don’t have to be so sneaky about it, you know,” Hermione laughs.

I close my drawer and look up into her smiling face.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I know I shouldn’t be checking it.”

“You can look at your phone as much as you like, as long as you turn in your best work at the end of the day.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

The last thing I need is to sabotage myself.

This job is opening new doors for me, both in my career and in my artistic progression. For the first time in years, I feel like I’ve got a reason to pursue my passion beyond the satisfaction of the work itself.

It’s new and interesting and I don’t want it to end.

“Anyway,” Hermione says, with a sly grin on her face. She taps a pen against her teeth as she grins. “The boss wants to see you.”

“I thought you were the boss,” I reply.

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, the boss. The big boss.”

“Solomon—um, Mr. Sky?” I say. “I thought he was in the UK?”

“He was. But he just got back. He wants you to meet him in his office.”

She tilts her head at me, her eyes glinting perceptively. I think she knows that something is going on between us, but her smile is genuine.

She turns to walk away, pauses, and then turns back.

“Sophia,” she says, “I don’t know what’s happening between you and Solomon, but I’ve worked with him for over a decade now. He’s never had a girlfriend. He’s never womanized. He’s never shown any interest in that side of life as far as I can tell. I just want you to know that.”

Her words cause relief to burn awake inside of me, the flaring flames of conviction flickering against every part of me. I smile up at her and nod as subtly as I can, not wanting to give anything away about me and Solomon, even if it seems she already knows more than I would’ve guessed.

“I better not keep him waiting, then,” I murmur. “Do you mind?”

She chuckles. “I know you’ll have that work to me at week’s end, when it’s due, no matter what. Won’t you?”

“Yes,