Intern For My Best Friend's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance
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CONTENTS
Intern for My Best Friend’s Dad
NEWSLETTER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
Collaborations
About the Author
INTERN FOR MY BEST FRIEND’S DAD
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
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A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 234
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2021 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
INTERN FOR MY BEST FRIEND’S DAD
I’ve had a crush on Solomon Sky for as long as I can remember, but it’s always been my little secret. His daughter is my best friend and I’d never risk what Caitlin and I have on such a silly crush.
When I start an internship at his company, I’m called up to a meeting in his impressive penthouse office. Six and a half foot tall, with glimmering silver hair and eyes that could make a nun blush, I feel girlish fantasies filling my mind again.
I tell myself he would never be interested in a nineteen year old wannabe painter. This forty-two year old alpha billionaire must have women throwing themselves at him.
But one afternoon, he claims me in the most primal way a man can. He tells me I belong to him. He tells me I need to do whatever he says because he owns me now.
All my crazy dreams are coming true, but I’m scared of Caitlin finding out. I’m scared of breaking my best friend’s heart. And, selfishly, I’m scared of what Solomon is going to think of me when he realizes just how inexperienced I am.
Can a man like him really be interested in a naive curvy virgin?
As if matters weren’t already complicated, Caitlin’s crazy ex-boyfriend has started following us, making her so stressed out I just can’t imagine telling her about me and her dad. Or is that an excuse?
I don’t know if Solomon and I can survive all this. Caitlin has to find out sooner or later. And when she does, I’m terrified everything’s going to blow up in our faces.
*Intern for My Best Friend’s Dad is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER ONE
Sophia
“Caitlin, I can’t thank you enough for this,” Mom says, dancing across the kitchen in her typical just-Mom way as she brings over a plate of pancakes.
Mom is built just like me – all curves – but she seems to hold hers better as her Bohemian dress billows around her. She’s got my dark brown hair, but the stark blueness of her eyes is entirely her own, in contrast, mine are the color of mud. And if she looks too young to be the mother of a nineteen year old, it’s because she’s only thirty-seven.
Caitlin grins, looking for a brief moment just like the girl I met when we were in fifth grade. With her jet-black hair tied in a ponytail and her sharp cheekbones shaping her smile, love for my best friend whelms in my chest. She’s always looked out for me, ever since she first stood up to Markie Johnson on the playground, and this is no different.
“Miss C, you don’t need to thank me,” Caitlin says, taking the pancakes and brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Soph is the best artist I’ve ever met … no offense.”
“None taken,” Mom says, as she turns to grab my pancakes from the counter.
The kitchen in our two bedroom apartment is small, the walls always seeming closed in. I used to feel self-conscious about bringing Caitlin to our apartments, especially when I find out that her father was a billionaire.
The only reason we were even at the same school is that Solomon Sky didn’t want to coddle his daughter. He came up the hard way, and he wanted the same for his daughter.
Of course, he made allowances along the way, with private tutoring and college fees, but who wouldn’t do that for their daughter?
Mom slides my plate across to me. I grab the syrup and apply it liberally, the sweet scent of the pancakes mixing with the syrup making my mouth water.
Mom pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the counter, leaning over her own plate.
The early spring sunlight shafts in through the rain dappled window, causing the light to dance and distort.
I fight the urge to run and get my sketchpad. Trying to capture the way the light filters through that window has been a constant, never-ending challenge for me.
“An internship at one of the biggest marketing agencies in the world,” Mom says, a thrill in her voice. “I always knew you were going to make it, Sophia. I always knew you’d do better than me. You’re so much more than just a waitress. You’re an … inspiration.”
I reach across the counter and give her shoulder a squeeze.
“Mom, you’re not just a waitress. You’re just as talented as me.”
“Maybe I’m just as talented,” she allows. “But you’ve got a work ethic I could never dream of. I’m too scatterbrained. Maybe that’s what you get for having a baby at eighteen. But don’t think I regret it. I don’t, not even for a second.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
“Any reason for the emotional outburst this morning, Mom?” I ask.
“Why shouldn’t I be emotional, huh?” she grins. “My little girl is going to work for Solomon Sky. That’s a big deal. Hey, if I walked on that side of the road, I might even comment on how handsome he is.”
“Ew, Miss C,” Caitlin laughs. “That’s my dad, remember.”
“Oh, don’t worry honey,” Mom giggles, waving a hand. “He’s in no danger from me.”
My stomach swirls as we veer close to that topic of conversation.
Solomon has spent most of his time in England for the past three years. The last time I had dinner with him and Caitlin was when I was sixteen years old, and he spent most of the meal looking through me.
And why wouldn’t he?
I was sixteen, a child.
But I’m nineteen now. A woman.
Crazy thoughts rise and swirl through me when I picture his silver, swept hair, his stark and bright green eyes. I think of the way his gray suit hugged onto his arms at dinner as
if his muscles were going to explode from the fabric each time he handled his cutlery.
I battle those thoughts down, blotting them with a mouthful of pancake.
Caitlin didn’t get me this internship so that I could drool over her dad.
I have a chance to make a name for myself in the world of graphic design. I have a chance to put my art to use, to make a living from it.
If I work hard enough, I could make enough money so Mom doesn’t have to bust her ass as a waitress anymore.
“Soph?” Caitlin says, tilting her head at me with her characteristic smirk on her face.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I was off in the clouds.”
She smiles. “That’s understandable. It’s a big day. I just said don’t let my dad intimidate you. He’s got this boots-on-the-ground ethos when it comes to his business. Even though he has thousands of employees, he thinks it’s his responsibility to meet every single one.”
“Why would I be intimidated?” I say, trying to inject some fire into my voice.
But in reality, my belly is swirling with all the desires I could never voice to Caitlin. Guilt pricks at me, sears my insides, when I think about all the times I’ve let my mind wander back to that dinner, to the chandelier light bouncing off Solomon’s square, strong jaw. He had a light dusting of silver across his face, and I’ve spent way, way too long thinking about how that would feel grazing across my palm.
It’s a girlish crush, nothing more.
If I never tell anybody, it doesn’t matter.
Caitlin smiles wryly as if to say, everybody is intimidated by my dad.
We go on eating our pancakes and then Mom’s phone buzzes from the table. Her case is spattered with paint and the screen is cracked. Maybe it’s strange, but my heart aches when I see the state her phone is in.
I need to bust my ass at this internship so that I can one day earn enough to buy her a hundred phones if that’s what she wants.
A smile lights up her face, her eyes glinting playfully.
“More Tinder interest, Miss C?” Caitlin banters.
“Now it’s my turn to saw ew,” I laugh.
“What?” Caitlin says, grinning wickedly. “What’s the matter with your dear old mom seeking some playful girl-on-girl action?”
“I’m not listening,” I say, plugging my ears and shaking my head. “I refuse to listen.”
“And please, Caitlin, enough with the old. I’m still in my prime, I’ll have you know.”
We all laugh as Mom loses herself in frantic texting. If there’s a benefit to having a mother who’s only thirty-seven years old, it’s that I never have to help her with technology.
“How did it go in England?” I murmur. “For your dad, I mean.”
“Well, I didn’t think you meant the queen.”
“Ha, ha,” I say sarcastically.
“It went really well, I think,” Caitlin says. “Well enough that he’s moving back to the States for the long term, anyway. To be honest, all I can think about at the moment is Professor Chaucer. I mean, why does that man have to be so freaking complicated?”
“You’ll get it,” I tell her. “You’re the smartest person I know, Cait. You’re going to ace that English lit class. I just know it.”
“Thanks,” she says. She reaches over and gives my hand a short squeeze. “Soph, just so you know, you really deserve this internship. I didn’t have to do much persuading with Dad. I just showed him some of your digital illustrations, and he was really blown away.”
My heart swells and glows unfairly when I picture Solomon Sky staring down at my work, maybe with that gleam in his eye I remember. Maybe he was thought, This art is perfect, but not as perfect as the woman who made it.
But no—no.
What a silly, fruitless place to let my mind dance to.
This is work, nothing more.
Caitlin would be repulsed if I shared my deep dark thoughts with her.
Solomon would, at best, fire me.
At worst, he’d laugh in my face and call me disgusting.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m surprised he didn’t meet a woman over there.”
A nice English woman with a posh accent and legs that go on and on forever and a sleek model like body and all the things I can never give him.
I want to snatch the statement back as soon as I’ve said it.
It’s none of my business if he met a woman or not.
“What, Dad?” Caitlin laughs. “As if. As far as I can tell, Dad’s asexual. I mean, obviously, he can’t be, because here I am. But ever since Mom walked out on us, he hasn’t so much as looked at another woman. Either that or he’s just too sneaky.”
My chest tightens at the thought of Solomon riding a private elevator to a discreet hotel room. I imagine him opening the door to a rose petal covered room, with some socialite type woman lying on a bed waiting for him.
I curse myself inwardly.
What use are thoughts like these?
I’m torturing myself over a man who’d call me crazy if he knew what I was thinking.
“Oh, drat,” Mom snaps, dropping her phone on the counter.
Caitlin and I turn to her.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The stupid thing just died, I think. I’ll have to run down to the store and see if I can pick up a cheap one later. What a shame. She was really nice.”
“She’ll wait for you, Miss C,” Caitlin says, “if she knows what’s good for her.”
Caitlin’s forehead furrows as she stares at my mother. Over the years, Caitlin has tried to offer us money on more than one occasion, but Mom is always too proud to accept it.
If I had my way, I’d accept whatever Caitlin offered us.
I respect her pride, but I’d also like her to be able to replace her phone when some dickhead customer knocks it off the bar at the restaurant and cracks the screen.
“Hey-ho,” Mom says, shrugging. “At least we have these delicious pancakes. Nothing soothes the soul like a nice helping of syrup and pancakes, right?”
“Amen to that,” Caitlin says, cutting into hers.
I try to smile along with them. But every time my gaze flits to the clock on the wall – a kooky lemon-yellow piece Mom picked up from Goodwill – my stomach gives a shivering twist.
My nerves just bubble up when I think about my first day at Solomon Sky Digital.
Starting an internship at such a prestigious, successful company would be scary enough.
But it’s him, too.
It’s Solomon, the billionaire CEO, my best friend’s dad, the man I’ve had a crush on for as long as I can remember.
Just last night, I couldn’t stop my hand from straying between my legs at the thought of him, plucking at chords of pleasure that only he can ignite within me.
I stuff my mouth full of pancake, but suddenly the syrup doesn’t seem so sweet.
CHAPTER TWO
Solomon
I let out my breath slowly, in time with the pull-up.
I lengthen the movement so that every single muscle in my back strains and roars for mercy, but I don’t grant it.
I don’t even think about quitting.
I pull up and up, in slow motion, forcing myself to feel every quiver and ache in my arms, back, and shoulders. Then, once my chin is over the bar, I lower myself with even more deliberation, completing the final rep and dropping to the floor.
I let my breathing return to normal as I turn away from the corner gym in my office.
It’s a cavernous room, with a high ceiling that seems even taller for the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling of the room, making the city below seem close enough to touch. My desk is a huge statement piece in the center, and off to the right I have a conference table, and then beyond that, a sleek marble coffee table sits in the middle of white leather furniture.
I couldn’t have dreamed of so much grandeur when I was a kid.
But I don’t feel guilty about it.
I worked my as
s off to get to where I am, and I give enough to charity so I can let myself enjoy the finer things in life.
I jab the air a few times, feeling the muscles in my arms loosen and relax. I’m wearing a light shirt and I can feel pricks of sweat touching the fabric, so I unbutton it quickly and spray myself with some deodorant.
Maybe I’m a caveman, but sometimes a man just needs to do some pull-ups to clear his head.
I’m nowhere near soaked enough to need a shower, not like with a proper workout.
After changing my shirt, I return to my desk and spend the next few hours working solidly. The spring sunlight starts to glare into my top floor office, so I mutter a voice command to dim the glass and filter the light.
At around one o’clock, my calendar pings an alert at me.
Meeting with the new intern: Caitlin’s friend, Sophia Clarkson.
I sigh and close the report I’m currently working on.
Even though opening the UK branch of the company went well, there are still a lot of details to be hashed out, and this disturbance to my flow is not exactly welcome.
But I’m not going to cancel the meeting.
I didn’t build my business by neglecting my responsibilities.
I consider meeting my employees a necessity.
I stand and stretch my arms above my head. I hate how tight my body can get sitting at a desk. Even in a giant, ergonomic chair like mine, my six foot seven body protests.
It’s like it’s trying to tell me I should be fighting, hunting, doing something primal instead of sitting in a chair making money.
My intercom system buzzes a few seconds later, right on time.
“Mr. Sky,” my assistant, Peter, says. “Miss Clarkson is here to see you.”
“Send her in,” I tell him.
I walk around the edge of the desk and wander over to the white leather seating, laying my foot across my knee and leaning back. I want my employees to feel at ease in here … as much as they can in a room that’s more like a banquet hall, anyway.
The sleek silver door handle turns and then the door opens.
Sophia Clarkson steps into the room.
I stare, and I keep staring, and for a second I think I’m never going to be able to stop.