Billionaire Boss's Virgin Intern(10)

By: Sophia Lynn & Ella Brooke


Of course, none of Samson’s deliberations had resulted in completely stopping his daily observations of her. He simply restricted them to meeting rooms where his business interests were at most risk. He adored how she conducted herself outside of his presence. April handled Hutchinson with such finesse that he had hopes her confidence would soon be so unassailable that Samson could have her lead projects.

As it was, she still stiffened slightly whenever she spotted him in the parking lot or around the building. That had to change. He had to gain her trust somehow.

“Sir?” Babette peeped. She had entered the office in that silent way of hers and stood there with her back arched and her low-cut blouse pushed out.

Samson looked up sternly. “Yes, Babette?”

She sighed, drew a lock of short, blonde hair behind her ear, and put a cup of hot coffee in front of him. “I brewed your coffee the way you asked, and—” she set down a file of papers, “—we need some signatures.”

“Got it.” Samson opened the file and looked for the little post-it arrows that Babette had placed on every important line. “How are you liking Houston, Babette?”

“It isn’t bad. I liked Atlanta better.” Babette straightened her back and leaned forward onto the edge of the desk. “Whenever we wanted to check things out downtown, we could just set out and walk.”

“Do you remember that Chinese place we went? They had such excellent wine.”

“Those were the best honey walnut shrimp I’ve ever had.” Babette shifted her weight, causing her blouse to slip down. “Maybe the best shrimp I’ve ever had period.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Samson finished signing the papers and closed the folder before handing it back to her. “Send those out straight away.”

“I haven’t heard a lot of good things about must-visit Chinese places.” Babette took the papers and held them right below her breasts. “Indian, yes, and Thai…”

Samson nodded absently. Hutchinson had sent him an email, and Samson scanned over the contents. It was mostly complaints about his team. “Well, we won’t be here for too much longer. Six months, maybe, on the outside. Get some of these projects launched, get the books in order. Then, I can hop back and forth to check their progress. Hopefully, I can take you somewhere less sweltering next time. Though, this close to the coast, you ought to be able to find some decent seafood.”

“You know me. I love to try new things.” Babette adjusted her blouse and leaned forward once more. “You know I heard there was a great place in the Memorial area, Izakaya-Wa. They’re supposed to have good sushi.”

“Hm.” Samson started to reply to Hutchinson’s message.

“I love sushi.”

“Did you need anything else, Babette?”

She sighed. “No. Just the papers. I’ll get them sent out. Let me know if you want anything else.”

“Pop in on Hutchinson after you send those papers and ask them to send up their current designs. I want to look over them before I call a formal meeting.”

“Yes, sir.” Babette nodded, then lingered for a moment. When Samson looked up, she smiled at him, opened her mouth for a moment as though she’d say something, and then disappeared out the door.

“The heat is going to her brain, poor thing,” Samson murmured. It was so terribly hot in Houston in the summer.


The next few days saw a flurry of messages back and forth, multiple reams of architect prints, and more coffee than could have been justified by all of Brazil. Samson kept on top of the firm and its projects by day, and let his excess energy out on a couple of women he’d picked up at a sassy little dive bar called Poison Girl.

Thus, the morning of the presentation from Hutchinson’s team, Samson was in a wonderful mood. He swaggered into the conference room with a large cup of coffee in his hand that Babette had picked up from one of the many quirky independent coffee shops in the area.

“Morning, Garcia.” Samson surveyed the room and sat at the head of the table. “Looking forward to this?”

Garcia, who had been connecting a projector to a laptop, arched a brow and shook his head. “Sure thing, boss.”

“That doesn’t sound too confident. Don’t worry. You’ll do fine.” Samson reclined in his chair and watched Garcia with a smile. “You have a strong group here. I expect good things, and I’ll see them.”

Garcia was about to say something when April entered the room. Samson lifted his cup.

“Hello, April,” Samson said cheerfully.