Page 12 of Illicit Education

Rylan Blake. Of course. I’d handpicked her myself.

Whip smart and ready to challenge the old ways of publishing, she’d been a bright light amongst a sea of hopefuls with no discerning qualities between one and the next. Ms. Blake was different. Special. Her internship application stood out drastically against countless others.

And that was before I’d even laid eyes on her.

In person, she’d been precisely what I’d look for in an employee. Bright. Challenging. Brave.

She’d also been beautiful.

And the first woman to challenge me in some time. Sure, that was before she knew who she’d been dealing with, and that smart mouth likely wouldn’t make another appearance once she learned the truth of my identity, but her bravado was a huge fucking turn-on and I’d be damn pressed to forget the way she made me want her.

My cock had been heavy since the moment she’d opened her mouth, an ache I couldn’t rid myself of anytime soon.

My gaze flicked to the bookshelf lining the left wall of my suite. My pride and joy, the books I’d brought into the world since taking control of Reed Publishing. My mother had trained me well, positioned me to inherit the only thing she loved as much as her only son. From acquisitions to editorial, I’d worked my way through each process, learning the ins and outs quickly so that I could manage Mom’s legacy. And now, just weeks away from taking my proper position at the helm of Reed Enterprises, Reed Publishing was still my top priority.

And the internship program was no exception, though, until now, each intern only worked with me for a few weeks of their twelve-week program. This year, however, I’d taken on the painstaking task of choosing the intern that would gain this lifetime opportunity, and would be working directly with said intern for the entirety of the program.

Something that now both intrigued and troubled me.

Pushing out of my chair, I strolled to the bookshelves and trailed my fingertips along the spines of my collection. Among the books I’d brought to fruition were a few treasured tomes I’d collected over the years.

One, in particular, held my attention now.

My fingers paused on the gilded Simona Steele special edition hardback and I pulled it out of the row. Reverently, I trailed my fingertips over the raised title and author’s name, silver metallic against black leather, with gold gilded pages. This was indeed a prized possession.

But I had an additional copy at home.

I’d known the author well.

Bringing the book back to my desk, I considered my next move.

Rylan Blake was my intern; I had to be careful. Especially now that control of Reed Enterprises was so close to within my grasp.

But she’d caught my attention, fascinated me. She’d been so quick to assume my comment about Simona Steele was one of condescension, but she couldn’t have been further from the truth. She’d been ready to go to battle in defense of the validity and importance of romance in literature, having no idea that the success of Reed Publishing in the romance sector was largely in part due to me.

And the woman who’d raised me.

I scribbled a quick note and affixed it to the title page of the book, then called the company courier.

Chapter Seven

Rylan

Four hours later, the paperwork portion of kicking off an internship at a corporate giant like Reed Publishing took up the entire first half of my day, and by the time my lunch break rolled around, my eyes were weary from staring at the computer for so long, my hand was exhausted from signing so many documents, and my stomach rumbled and roared like an angry beast.

After a handful of wrong turns, I finally made it back to the lobby of the seventy-third floor just after twelve o’clock.

Marisa and a few other people were gathered at the reception desk. She spotted me and grinned, waving wildly. “Hey girl hey,” she called, waving me over. “How was your first day so far?”

I shrugged. “Fine. Lots of paperwork.”

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “I probably should have warned you about that. It’s not just Reed Romance, you know, but, like, thewholecorporation. Lots of fine print.” Marisa motioned toward the others. “Guys, this is Rylan, our fall intern. Ry, this is Eloise, Hector, and Marcus.” She pointed to each person in turn, and I tried to memorize their names as I shook their hands.

“Hungry?” Marisa asked. “Do you have plans for lunch?”

“Starving, and no, I don’t.”

I’d planned on getting to know the neighborhood and finding somewhere close by to grab a bite to eat, but maybe this would be better than eating alone.