The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 6

Maya didn’t move for a while after the pitch meeting ended.

People trickled out of the glass conference room in composed silence, papers rustling, heels clicking, chairs scraping softly against polished floors. Damien Blackwood didn’t look back—not that she expected him to. But the weight of his gaze lingered like a burn on her skin, impossible to ignore.

She waited until most of the crowd had dispersed before standing. Her knees felt stiff, like they’d locked from sitting too long in tension. The nerves, the secondhand power, the almost unbearable stillness of being seen—even if for just a second—had exhausted her more than the lack of sleep ever could.

Harper was waiting just outside, sipping from a comically oversized water bottle shaped like a milk carton.

“You survived,” she said with a smirk. “No visible wounds. I’m impressed.”

Maya tried to smile, but her voice came out thin. “Barely.”

Harper fell into step beside her as they walked back toward their desks. “You looked like a deer on the edge of cardiac arrest in there.”

“That obvious?”

“Sweetheart, if I’d had a stress ball, I’d have chucked it at you halfway through Blackwood’s second sentence.”

Maya gave a soft laugh—more breath than sound—and dropped her bag beside her chair as she sat. Her fingers hovered over her keyboard, but she didn’t type anything.

Harper leaned over the edge of Maya’s cubicle, her plum hair flopping a little to the side. “Hey. You okay?”

Maya nodded, though it felt like a lie. “Yeah. Just a lot.”

“You did fine. Honestly, most interns pee themselves before the coffee even brews. You sat through a whole pitch without crying or vomiting. That’s gold-star behavior around here.”

Maya cracked a smile. “Thanks. I think.”

Harper gave her a friendly nudge. “Seriously. You didn’t speak, which is good. You didn’t faint, which is better. And you didn’t try to flirt with the boss, which is best.”

Maya’s cheeks warmed. “Why would anyone—”

“You’d be surprised. Blackwood could freeze a continent, and yet half the building would risk hypothermia to get his attention.”

Maya shook her head, glancing down at her notes. “Not me.”

Harper tilted her head, studying her. “You say that like you mean it.”

“I do.”

Harper tilted her head, studying her. “So… real talk. What’s your life like outside of this place?”

Maya blinked, caught off guard. “Um. It’s… a little packed.”

“Figured. You’ve got the look of someone running on caffeine and existential dread.”

“I work as a barista,” Maya admitted, half-laughing. “Four days a week. Full shifts. Then classes in the evenings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

“And Blackwood on top of all that?” Harper’s eyes widened.

“It’s temporary,” Maya said quickly. “Just for the duration of the internship. Besides, my schedule here is only three times a week starting next week. This full-week setup is just for orientation and onboarding.”

Harper blinked. “Wait—so you’re working full time, doing school, and this internship?”

Harper leaned back like she’d just watched a superhero transformation. “Damn. I complain when I have back-to-back meetings. You’re out here stacking lives.”

Maya smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

“No, but it’s badass,” Harper said with a wink. “And you didn’t even flinch during that meeting earlier. I’ve seen junior execs crumble just sitting across from the boss.”

“Trust me,” Maya muttered. “I was flinching on the inside.”

“You know they don’t pay interns much, right?” Harper asked gently, her voice softer now, eyebrows raised with something that looked more like concern than curiosity. 

Harper didn’t say anything at first. She just watched her, the playfulness fading from her expression. “I only ask because… the hours you’re pulling? The stress? Most people can’t even handle one of those jobs, let alone three. And I know the kind of burn that comes from pushing past your limits for too long.”

Maya blinked, swallowing the lump that had started to form in her throat.

“It’s just…” Harper’s voice dropped even lower. “You shouldn’t have to fight this hard just to stay afloat.”

“I know,” Maya said, trying to keep her voice steady. “But it’s still… a huge opportunity. They only pick one student each year. Even if the stipend isn’t a lot, the benefits, the network, the experience—it could change everything.”

Harper studied her a moment longer, the teasing light dimming in her eyes. Something unreadable flickered across her face—like recognition, or maybe respect. Then she nodded slowly. “You’re tough.”

“I have to be.”

Harper leaned back in her chair, a low whistle escaping her lips. “That’s insane. You’re stacking three lives and still look like a functioning human.”

Maya smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Functioning is… generous.”

Harper tilted her head, her voice gentler now. “Damn, Maya. You ever sleep?”

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