Romans & histoires The Intern

He watched me for a minute, expression calm, fingers steepled. “Or,” he said, “we can overlook it.” I looked up, sniffed, wiped my face with the back of my hand. “How?” He stood, walked around the desk, leaned against the edge right in front of me. His crotch was level with my face. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight over the outline of his cock. “Become my personal intern,” he said. “You do what I say. When I say. For the summer. The reference stays between us. You finish the internship with a glowing recommendation. Your future stays intact.”

Her eyes looked like she was screaming at her mother psychically or something, but Bellagamba just glanced at her daughter and then scanned the rest of us again with that icy glare. "Alright. Here's the deal, folks," Garrison said. "First, there is no 'senior intern' or 'head intern' or whatever position. You're all interns, all of equal position. Joy, just because you've spent the last four summers doing the same job here, it doesn't give you the right to act as anyone's supervisor. You are not to be giving other interns direction, let alone performance reviews. If someone needs something from you all, literally anyone else from the office will come down here and tell you, or ask for it by

he asked, those blue eyes filled with concern. I realized I was staring. “Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. Sorry.” “Don’t apologize.” He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that probably made women trip over themselves. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. First day and I’m already causing accidents.” “First day?” I blinked, trying to process. “You’re new?” “Started this morning. I’m Ryan Mitchell. New intern in Finance.” He handed me the papers he’d gathered, then extended his hand. “And you are?”

I called out to him and he immediately pulled his body off the chair, fear returning to his face. “What’s your work as an intern?” I asked. “I am supposed to watch what everyone does, help with anything I can for now until the training is done” “I see” my eyes rested on his neck—he had a cross tattoo there and it was—cute and warming. “Make him my new secretary” I announced much to the amazement of the two of them. I was also surprised at myself because I hated incompetence the most and this intern didn’t look like he knew anything.

“Why is it always you? You guys ruined me back then!” “Like you’re the only one suffering? What about my misfortune? I graduated from a top university, yet one vacation trip left me in this mess!” I looked closer and realized they were my former interns. After all these years, they still had not found jobs and were making a living delivering takeout. Snow swirled through the air as another New Year’s Day arrived. Gazing at the city lights, I sighed silently. “Charge all the company dinner expenses to my personal account.

"You're just getting six thousand a month! Who can live on that? You're still an intern anyway, so let's just adjust your salary today. I think twelve thousand dollars sounds good. It's lower than that of our mid-level employees, but it's enough to cover living expenses. What do you think?" She was actually trying to give an intern a raise on her own authority! Before Dylan could respond, I pushed the door open with a dark expression and questioned her. "Who cares about what he thinks?! I think it's ridiculous. Serena, who gave you the right to adjust employee salaries without approval?!" With that, I shot Dylan a cold look. "Especially for someone who isn't even a full employee, just an int

I’d come back to work ready to take on more projects, anything to distract myself and put my life back together. “Hello?” a male voice called from outside my office door. The voice was unfamiliar; I figured he was at the wrong door. I turned back to my window—until the door swung open and a strange face peeked in. “Who are you? And can’t you knock?” I asked. He smiled politely. “Sorry. I’m Ken, the new intern. I was hired while you were away. Bernard sent me to pick up the sample for the ads you designed two weeks ago. Sorry for barging in.”

"She won't be coming. Switch it to a singlehood celebration theme instead." Ignoring the makeup artist's sympathetic gaze, I looked down at my phone, still buzzing with notifications. The intern, Shawn Peterson, had tagged everyone in the company group chat: [The video I posted earlier was just a joke, please don't misunderstand!] That wasn't an explanation—it was a boast. I sneered. Right after, Lisa chimed in: [No need to explain, Shawn. Everyone can see you were joking. Only narrow-minded people would take it the wrong way.] With the boss leading the way, colleagues rushed to show loyalty.

I cleared my throat slightly to interrupt him and it worked. "I am sorry to interrupt you, director, but the only thing you got correctly was my name. I am not here to manage any department in this working institution. I came here as an intern. That's what I came here to be, and hopefully, at the end of my internship, I will be recommended to the board for retention." I chuckled and he did the same, lowering his head for a while before he started to talk.

A breeze pushed against the glass, moving the leaves outside. Then came the knock. Greene didn’t hesitate. “Come in.” The door opened. And someone stepped inside. Tall. Calm. Familiar in a way that made the air catch in my throat. Black hoodie over a button-down shirt. Hands in his pockets. Hair cleanly styled. Like nothing had changed. But everything had. My breath froze in my chest as he turned to face me. Professor Greene stood. “Professor Wellington, this is our new intern. He’ll be shadowing you for the rest of the semester.”