Becoming Hers

Jefferson County, Alabama

One month ago

Three men had a gorgeous blonde woman surrounded, their intimidating features heightened by the heat packed in their trousers.

The woman was gripping the base of her armchair, her manicured fingers trembling as anxiety prickled her skin.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me. I’ll do anythin’ else. Anythin’.”

A short, muscular man with sun-kissed skin crouched in front of her. He ran his fingers through thick locks of gold-feathered hair, a stern expression on his face.

“Yer makin’ this harder than it has to be, Grace.” His tongue flicked out, wetting his dry lips. “C’mon. It’s one tiny favor, an’ we’ll make it worth your while.”

“I don’t wanna move ta Minnesota, Lucas!” she shrieked, leaning forward, getting all up in his face. “Pick somebody else.”

Drops of moisture beaded at her forehead. Her tanned knuckles colored white against the brown base.

Lucas turned his head over to his Enforcer, who was busy searching the pocket of his blue button-down shirt. He had a cigarette hanging off his lip.

“Gunter, she’s bein’ unreasonable. Show her the benefits.”

“Over here, boss,” the third man standing beside Gunter said, pushing his glasses back up his long nose.

He whipped out a brown envelope from the pocket of his black blazer. It was planted face-up on the coffee table.

Gunter lit his cigarette with a match, fogging the living room with smoke. “Relax, Barbie. Yer gettin’ a penthouse. Your brother’s even buyin’ you a new car.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at both the smoke and the audacity of the broad, brown-haired man puffing inside her house.

“Stop callin’ me that.” Her long nail waved at the cigarette. “An’ quit that.”

“Tried,” he grunted with a heavy inhale. White mist streamed out of his nose. “Bein’ good, but now I just do it when I’m bein’ social.”

She blinked. “This ain’t a social call, Gunter. I’m bein’ extorted by my own brother!”

Miles decided it was his turn in the spotlight. He unpacked the folder and set out a few papers.

He lifted one to show her. “You’ll be gettin’ hired by a real businessman. Don’t ya need the experience for yer job portfolio?”

“Businessperson,” Gunter corrected. “People don’t call it businessman no more. It ain’t right.”

The lanky man rolled his eyes beneath thick, black eyebrows. “Fine. Businessperson. Ye’ll be workin’ for a CEO busy runnin’ a perfume business. An’ they need an experienced personal assistant ta help keep things underway.”

Lucas snatched the paper from him. “Stop lyin’ to my sister.” He turned back to face Grace. “Yer just doin’ the interview. If ya don’t get hired, ya can come home.”

She scoffed. “An’ then what? I thought y’all needed intel on this person?”

“Yeah. We do,” Lucas confirmed. “But yer just gonna try, baby sis. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll help you get a job an’ a place to stay. How does that sound?”

She scrubbed her palms over her face, smearing her eyeliner in the process. “I already got a six-month gap on my resume.”

“Exactly,” Lucas said, placing the paper back on the table.

He reached out and held Grace’s hands in his palms. “So see this as an opportunity. Ya go in, do the interview, live in a penthouse for a week, an’ if ya don’t get the job, ya come back. No harm, no foul.”

Gunter and Miles had moved to open the window, allowing fresh air in so they could both breathe toxins out.

Grace didn’t even spare them a glance. She chewed her lip. “I get to keep the car?”

Lucas let out a small smile. “Absolutely.”

She glared. “I don’t want any involvement with all yer gang bullshit. Not now, not after.”

“Done.” Lucas gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “404s won’t even touch you. It’ll just be me talkin’ to ya. I promise.”

“Fine,” Grace sighed. “What do I have to do?”