YOU’RE MINE, Miss Intern.

Chapter four

Ann stayed past six because the pharmacy closed at eight and the extra copies Rhea wanted would not print themselves.

The floor emptied in layers, first the loud ones then the careful ones. Then it was just the cleaners and the low buzz of machines that never went off.

Ann stacked the last packet and checked the time. If she left now, she could still make it.

Her phone rang, displaying an unknown number. For a second, she debated letting it go to voicemail, but then she noticed the internal extension.

She tapped to answer. “Cole. My office,” recognizing Mikel's gruff tone immediately. There was no pleasant greeting, no polite request…just straight to business.

Ann looked at the clock again and felt the night split in two. Medicine or this, there was no real choice. If she lost the internship, the medicine would not matter for long so she went up.

His floor was dim except for the light behind his desk. Mikel stood with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled, reading something like it had personally disappointed him. “Close the door.”

Ann did. “The client from today’s meeting called, they want the revised figures by morning. Rhea is gone. The junior who froze the screen is useless. You touched the file, you will finish it.”

Ann’s mouth went dry. “I’m an intern.”

“I’m aware.” He turned the monitor toward her. It was filled with columns of data, looming deadlines, and sharp, precise notes scrawled by hand.

“You have one hour,” he said. “If you cannot do it, say so now.”

Ann thought of the pharmacy, of her mother’s cough and the look on his face when she had spoken back in the conference room. “I can do it.”

She sat down, and he didn't leave. That was the part that really got to her. He stayed at the other end of the desk, working in complete silence, so close she could hear him turning pages. Every so often, she could feel his gaze on her, like a pressure at the back of her neck.

“You hesitated on line forty,” he said without looking up.

“Because the March number does not match the summary.” Ann responded.

Now he looked up. Ann pointed at the screen, careful. “Someone rounded it to look cleaner, the real figure is lower. If you send this as it is, the client will catch it.”

Mikel came around the desk, leaning in too close to get a look. The scent of his cologne was faint and expensive and completely out of place next to her secondhand shirt. “Show me.”

She did. He was quiet for a long time then he reached past her and corrected the line himself. “You were going to leave,” he said.

“I have somewhere to be.”

“Where.” She could have said errands, she could have said none of your business. Instead the truth came out, tired and plain. “The pharmacy closes at eight.”

Mikel’s eyes moved over her face, then away. “Work,” he said.

She finished with eleven minutes to spare. He reviewed every page, when he was done, he closed the folder and looked at her like the numbers had not been the only thing he was checking. “You should have told Rhea the file was wrong this morning.”

“Would she have listened?”

A flicker crossed his face neither a smile nor kindness, just something fleeting. “No.”

Ann stood and picked up her bag. “Am I done?”

“For tonight.” She was at the door when he spoke again. “Cole.”

She looked back. “If your life is going to keep leaking into my building, keep it off my floors. I do not run a rescue.”

The words should have stung more than they did. Maybe the pain was just waiting to settle in, ready to hit harder later. Ann nodded once. “I wasn’t asking to be rescued.”

She took the stairs two at a time and ran the last block to the pharmacy with her badge still clipped to her shirt. The clerk locked the door behind her after she paid with money that was supposed to last the week.

On the train home, her hands would not warm up. Mikel Damaris had kept her late, used her, warned her, and still watched her leave like he had not finished with her.

She needed this job, yes but she was beginning to realize it might demand more from her than just time or effort.