INTERNING MY WAY OUT OF INSANITY.

ANASTASIA. 

“I’ll handle everything.” Was his signature response to everything I asked. 

He's taking care of everything, the legal side, Dad’s hospital procedure, and the firm. 

Everything. 

Except for me, obviously. 

Ever since the day we got married, he hasn't touched me. Not even a brush of his hands or fingers or whatever. It’s like two years ago all over again. I can recognize it when he’s pulling away from me, you know. He only speaks to me when it’s necessary, in short words, and won’t stay in my company for too long. 

He won’t even look at me. 

He chose a guest room on the ground floor, thats as far away from me as physically possible while still living under the same roof. 

But it’s different this time. 

I didn’t kiss him. I didn’t do anything, actually. He's the one who touched me, set me on damn fire, told me I’m truly fucked, and called me baby girl. 

He called me baby girl. 

No matter how crazy my imagination is, it couldn’t, even in its wildest form, have made that up. 

And then he went back to his workaholic life, leaving me to wonder if maybe I was losing my mind, and that the chemistry and intensity I felt on the wedding day weren’t there. Perhaps I was too sleep-deprived to think straight.

      

But no, that can’t be true, because even after, I could taste it. The chemistry, I mean. It’s been thick and large and has been seeping into my lungs with every breath I take. And it’s driving me insane, I see him and I want to jump him all the time. 

It’s pretty unfortunate that my feelings are one-sided. I fear that this is how I would live my life for the rest of this marriage. 

And that’s another reason why I’m nearing the edge. I’m getting to that point where I start imagining things and overthinking them. I can feel it when it happens. I find no pleasure in doing things. I hide in the closet more, and even my vanilla ice cream and milkshake don’t taste the same. I miss Dad so much. 

      

Oh, and I hear the emptiness tapping at the insides of my brain.

      

I can’t be on the edge. The edge is where all disasters start to happen, like insomnia, depressive thoughts, and every negative word in my journal.

      

So I came here.

      

To Luca&King Law Group. 

      

The main prestigious branch is situated in New York. Perhaps visiting one of the numerous others scattered throughout the States and Europe would’ve been safer. The managing partners have been calling and asking about my dad, and they actually like me, which can’t be said about the person in charge of this one.

      

But that would mean leaving Dad’s side, and that’s not going to happen.

      

Anyway, I’ve been inside the building countless times before, but this is the first time that it’s felt huge and intimidating. This must be how the new applicants think when they walk the long halls and ride the elevator to the towers.

      

The bright white floors and walls, along with the spotless glass doors and windows, give it a clean, businesslike appearance. The setting is presented in this manner as a psychological tactic to make it appear trustworthy. If I were a client and walked into this building, I would feel safe and protected. 

“But I’m not safe and protected, and those are the last things bleeding into my veins right now.

      

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the glass doors, and my feet falter for a second. I’m wearing a black pencil skirt that enhances my wide hips and a white shirt that is buttoned down to the top of my cleavage. My rusty hair is pulled into a ponytail, and my makeup is light and professional.

      

It killed me not to wear my denim shorts, but at least I kept the white sneakers. I've chosen the simplest ones I have that go with the setting.

      

And I’m also carrying a box of bribes.

      

So, the thing is, Damien doesn’t know I’m coming here today. And he’ll probably be mad. But whatever, he’s always mad in a way—and hopefully, by the time I get what I came here for, it’ll be too late for him to kick me out.

      

Because he’s a jerk, a few days ago, I asked him to let me intern at the firm for the summer, and he said no. Point-blank. When I asked why, he ignored me. I wonder why he refused. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen in the same environment as me? 

Was he embarrassed by me?

I sighed and shook my head. I couldn’t afford to be in my headspace right now, because it would ruin my mood, and my mission here would be destroyed. 

Asshole.

I muttered under my breath. 

      

So I’m taking things into my own hands. I’m interning here despite him and his assholic behavior. It’s the only way to keep myself occupied during the summer. With everything going on with my Dad, I couldn’t afford to be alone and not doing anything. 

That would only mess with me. 

      

Besides, he’s not the only hotshot lawyer here. I’ve been between L&K’s walls for years, and I know the best attorneys who can keep me distracted and busy enough to stop my overthinking altogether.

      

“You can do this,” I mutter under my breath and stride down the hall to the open space where junior assistants and interns have their desks.

      

But I’m not after them. They’re small fish that would never in a million years stand up to the almighty Damien.

      The ones I’m after are sitting in the break area, drinking coffee and chatting among themselves—the partners.

      

They have enough power to stand up to Damien and not lose their jobs—hopefully.

      

Liam is one of them.

      

But he does corporate law, and uh, I don’t really like that. So I’m more interested in the other two.

Christian Steele and Sebastian Grey, respectively, in criminal and international law.

      

Both of them are British, have stellar reputations, and are certified playboys.

      

I keep a low profile as I head to where the three of them are sitting. They usually have these coffee breaks around this time, and Damien has his administrative meetings in the morning, which is why I came in now.

      

Everything is calculated to give my plan a further chance to succeed. I’m taking things into my own hands, and it’s all going to be fine.

      

“Hi!” I say too cheerfully, making three pairs of eyes slide to me. Liam smiles, and so does Sebastian. He has a charming presence that’s similar to Liam’s when he was in college—Damien’s nephew is a bit more serious now.