Brooklyn's Break In #1 | ✔

ᵗʷᵒ

"...Even if you don't see them."

Brooklyn resisted the urge to turn around as she was walking back to her house. After what the man said to her, she felt like she needed to be cautious of her every move, in case someone was following her.

Walking down a deserted road at 8 in the morning wasn't what she pictured herself doing yesterday. Before all shit went down, she had thought that she'd be spending her time in an ice cream parlor treating herself to a cup of mint chocolate for a job well done. But now, still with an empty pocket and a dirty record, the only option was to go back home and lock herself in her room to mull over how much of a failure she was.

Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at her one-storey sad excuse of a house. Not bothering to check if the door was locked, she rounded the house to her window and lifted it up, climbing inside.

Her room was boring, nothing like the office she just came out from. There was a creaky old bed in the middle of the room, a wooden cupboard, desk and dresser with splintered edges and peeling wallpaper falling from the wall. Her stuffed teddy bear that she had from when she was a baby was lying in the middle of the old bed, saggy from all the times she had cried clutching it.

Brooklyn took out her hand-down computer that was at least seven-years-old and went to Google.

She typed Woods Inc. in the search bar. The results that came up were mostly about a young billionaire and all his success and business deals he managed to sign. Immediately, Brooklyn's thoughts flew to the man she spoke to not an hour ago. She brought the cursor to 'images' and clicked it. There, hundreds of pictures of him came up(not that she counted).

Suddenly, an email popped up on her screen.

From: asherwoods69@gmail.com
To: brklynreid@gmail.com

Speaking of the dev- stalker.

Subject: Terms and Conditions

Ms Reid, I don't think we've finished our conversation before you rudely left without my permission. Remember, my mercy.

That aside, you are to come to my office Monday morning at 8 sharp. Suitable office wear attire. You are my new personal assistant. There will be a contract that you have to sign but we'll get to that later.

Have a nice day.

Brooklyn stared at the screen numbly as if not feeling will make the words turn into something she actually don't mind reading.

Personal assistant? Hell no.

From: brklynreid@gmail.com
To: asherwoods69@gmail.com

Re: Terms and Conditions

First off, nice username. The 69 is a lit addition. Secondly, I did not leave without permission, you simply did not stop me. Get your facts right.

P.s. I'm not being your assistant.

Not a few moments later:

From: asherwoods69@gmail.com
To: brklynreid@gmail.com

Re: Terms and Conditions

Ms Reid, you mistook my words. I'm not asking. You are working for me now. Or do you want to rot in jail instead.

Your choice.

That bastard. Brooklyn never told him how scared she was staying in prison, but even without telling him, he knows. He knows that she wouldn't want to be in a place with actual criminals. Criminals that are guys, and has hormones.