After saying goodnight to Colt—and promising him I’ll get some sleep—I step into my apartment to find it strangely quiet. I expect Luther or James to be waiting for me but no, the living room is empty. Even my mom is gone.

Dropping my bag to the floor, I leave it by the door and head for the back bedrooms. Luther and James are both in their room, studying.

I knock softly on the door jamb and their dark heads pop up from their books.

“Hey,” I lead tentatively.

“Hey,” James echoes but Luther lifts a brow, looking a little annoyed by the interruption.

I let out a breath. “Where’s mom?”

“She out with Jack…” James answers then looks to Luther for help. “Or was it Mack?”

Luther shrugs, “Fuck if I know.”

I nod. I’m actually relieved that she’s out. It would have been weirder to find her still home doing something productive like dishes or cooking or something. Things are always more stressful when she’s around. And I’m still pissed off at her for stealing the rent and grocery money for her dope. I don’t even know how I’m going to confront her about it, but I know I have to.

“Doing homework?” I ask.

“Yeah,” James answers. “Getting it out of the way. Coach has scheduled an extra practice this week. We’re playin’ Liberty Friday. You going to be there?”

“Yep,” I smile tiredly at him. “I already scheduled off.”

“You bringing Colt with you?” Luther asks.

“Colt?” James repeats before I get a chance to answer. “Why would she bring Colt?”

Luther stares me hard in the eyes. “Because, according to him, she’s going to be working for him now.”

James looks to me in shock. “You are?”

I shake my head and slump against the door. I’m too tired for this right now. I should have just went to bed, but I hate going to sleep without saying goodnight to them.

“Maybe,” I answer softly and shrug. “I’m not sure… Possibly... I don’t know…”

“You’re not going to accept his job offer?” Luther asks, incredulous.

“Do you think I should?”

Luther’s eyes never leave mine as he tells me, “I think you would be fucking stupid not to.”

“Why?” I ask, my eyes watering as I stare back at him. I don’t even know what time it is—a little before eight? A little after? I’m too young to be this tired this early. “Who is he anyway? I barely know him, but you seem to know him. Why do you think I should accept his offer?”

“Colt Jackson is the best quarterback in Washington High’s history! He led the team to three state championships, and one national.” James’ exclaims excitedly. “He played for State for two years, and everyone was expecting him to be the number one draft pick after his junior year, but he got hurt.”

“He won the Sugar bowl and the Heisman trophy,” Luther pipes in.

“Oh? Is that important?”

Both of my brothers look at me like I’m stupid.

James shakes his head in disbelief, muttering something under his breath.

Luther looks me dead in the eyes again. “You should take the job.”

“Why?” I ask. I don’t really need convincing at this point, after my brothers confirmed some of the stuff Colt already told me I’m starting to think I can trust him. So far it seems like he’s been honest. But I want to know why my brothers want me to take it.

“He’s the top agent in this region.”

“So?”

“You deserve a break.”

“And he’s cool,” James adds.

Luther nods in agreement. “He’s still involved with the school. He comes to practice sometimes, gives us advice and stuff. Acts like he gives a shit.”

“So you like him?” I cross my arms over my chest. It’s interesting to hear my own brothers singing this guy’s praises.

“Yeah, I like him,” James nods.

Luther adds, “And I can trust him with you.”

“Excuse me?” I blink at him in disbelief. “You can trust him with me?”

“Yeah,” Luther drawls out slowly and leans back, his chair tipping off the floor.

I want to put him in his place. Who does he think he is? He’s the little brother and I’m the big sister, except he’s a lot bigger now. Taller than me, in fact. But never the less, I look out for him, not the other way around.

I’m too tired for this however, I can’t even work up enough indignation to start the argument.

So I just say, “Whatever,” and shake my head.

Luther grins smugly, as if he just won or something.

I sigh loudly. “Finish your homework. I’m hitting the sack, I’m exhausted.”

“Good night, sis,” James smiles and nods.

“Good night,” Luther grins.

I nod and turn around. “Oh,” I say, pausing in the hall just outside my door. “Colt will be picking me up in the morning, so don’t be surprised when someone knocks on the door.”

---

It’s six a.m. and I’m wide awake. I glance over at the other side of the bed and it’s empty. Sometimes I wake up to find my mother in bed with me. Thankfully not today. Yawning, I stretch my arms over my head and then jump up, meaning to get dressed for the day.

But what the hell do I wear?

I’m going to be an assistant, shouldn’t I wear a skirt or something? The only skirt I still own I grew out of years ago. I guess jeans and a tee it is.

Grabbing my clothes, I make my way to the bathroom for a shower, extremely grateful that Luther and James don’t wake up this early. Usually I take my shower before bed because I have too much to do in the morning. Well, last night I was too tired to wash the smell of burgers and fried chicken off of me. Today, I don’t feel so rushed at least.

After my shower, I examine my face in the mirror and take the time to apply some makeup. While I’m brushing out my hair, one of my brothers knocks on the door.

“Just a minute,” I call out and hear a grumble.

Flipping my hair over my shoulder and checking my reflection one last time, I yank open the door.

“Colt’s here,” James mumbles, his morning breath fierce and his eyes half-closed. He shoulders past me and starts to yank down his sleep pants. I rush out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Yuck, boys can be so gross.

Sure enough Colt is standing in the living room. Dressed in a charcoal grey suit, he looks impeccable, totally lickable, and completely out of place.

“Hey,” I greet softly.

Slowly, he turns to look at me. He grins and his bright eyes light up his face. “Good morning. Are you ready?”

Crap. I haven’t made any coffee or breakfast for the boys.

“Actually, I need just a minute…”

He nods in understanding. “Take your time.”

I run back to my bedroom and grab my purse. I was so tired last night, I forgot to find a new, safer hiding place for my money. Today, I’m just going to carry it with me. First, I check to make sure the money is still there. My mother could have always snuck in and snuck out last night… After quickly counting, I sigh with relief—all of it is accounted for. Pulling a couple of tens out of my wallet, James walks out of the bathroom just as I step into the hallway.

“Hey. Think you can wake up Luther for me?”

He scratches the back of his head and yawns sleepily. “Sure.”

“And you guys will have to buy breakfast.” I thrust out the bills. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to cook anything.”

James shakes his head and accepts the money. “It’s cool.” Stepping forward, he gives me a one-armed hug. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” I tell him, hugging him back. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home, but I’ll take care of dinner.”

He nods and turns towards his bedroom. Feet dragging, he walks like a zombie, groaning and everything.

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I stride into the living room and ask Colt, “Mind if we stop for coffee?”

---

Colt and I stop for coffee and donuts at a little bakery down the street. Then we head over to Cluckin’ Chicken. Both Burger Bell and Cluckin’ Chicken are locally owned franchises, and Colt just happens to know the guy who owns them. Mark Avery—the owner—is actually a nice guy, and after giving Colt a little good natured grief for “poaching his most promising employee”, he wishes me luck and tells me I’ve got a management position waiting for me if working for Colt doesn’t suit me.

After walking out of Cluckin’ Chicken, I feel as if some huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

Colt gives me a crooked grin as he opens the car door for me. “See, I told you it would all work out.”

I pause and squint up at him—the sunlight is shining bright this morning. “Do you know everyone in this city?”

“Not everyone…” he drawls out.

I nod and slide in.

“I probably only know half of the city.”

He points the car towards downtown, and I’m assuming we’re on our way to the agency. I’m very confused when instead of pulling up and parking in front of an office building, we park in front of a high end clothing boutique. On the way here, Colt got a call on his phone he just had to take. He’s still listening and talking, so I can’t even ask him what’s going on as he hops out and pulls my door open for me.

As I step out of the car, I point at the boutique and lift my eyebrows while mouthing: What are we doing here?

He just grins and shakes his head. Grabbing me firmly by the elbow, he leads me into the boutique.

As soon as we step inside, I immediately get the feeling that I don’t belong in here.

The air is cool, lightly perfumed, and everything is done up in black and silver with bright white lighting. This is not like any clothing store I’ve ever seen. There’s one rack of clothing—only one—and it’s displayed in a recess on the right wall. The rest of the area is filled with furniture, couches, tables, and lights. Even the floor, a dark wood covered by a fluffy white rug seems too expensive for the likes of my feet.

What little clothing that is on display appears to be women’s clothing, so I guess we’re not here to pick up something for Colt. Do they even sell the clothes here? If there weren’t mannequins displayed in the front window I’d think this was a small furniture store. I want to ask but Colt still has all his attention focused on his call. He’s left me standing in the middle of the room, all by myself, while he paces around, talking quietly into his phone. I look around some more, looking for someone, anyone, but I don’t even see a cash register. I have no clue what we’re doing here.

Stepping up to one of the flower vases, I’m reaching out, just about to touch the dark silver petals—wondering if the flower is real—when someone rushes into the room from the back.

“Darling!” a short, dark-haired man exclaims as he rushes over to me.

I’m so surprised, so startled, I jump back and the vase rocks back and forth. I manage to right it just before it crashes to the floor. The man rushes over to me, his little feet working triple time to cover the distance between us. He’s a dark blur and then he’s pulling me into his arms. He hugs me as if he knows me, as if he’s familiar with me, then lifts up on his tiptoes and places two quick kisses on each of my cheeks.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m very sorry I kept you waiting. I hope it wasn’t for long?”

I gape at him. He’s touching me and I just want to push him away, but then he grabs me by the arm and starts to drag me along. “I have several selections ready for you.” His brown eyes roll over me from head to toe and then he squeals excitedly. “You have such a lovely figure. I can’t wait for you to try them on!”

For such a little guy he sure is strong. I cast a frantic look over my shoulder for Colt but I don’t see him. Shit. He must have stepped out.

“I think you’ve made a mistake…” I start and yank back, trying to free my arm.

The little guy keeps pulling me, unfazed by my resistance. “You’re Whitney, correct?”

“Yes…” I answer. How does he know my name?

“Then it’s no mistake! I’ve been preparing for you all morning.”

Oh, god. I’ve been set up.

I cast one last, frantic glance back before I’m pulled behind a door. Colt is still gone. Coward. I bet he disappeared on purpose—important phone call my ass.

---

Two hours later, and who knows how many different combinations of the same ten outfits, and I’m ready to kill Colt.

“You must wear that one,” Stan says, clapping his hands together. “It was made for you.”

That’s the little guy’s name—Stan. And after two hours I’ve learned he’s run this boutique—Zero One—for the past five years. I’ve also learned he has a boyfriend named Russel, and the two of them share a studio apartment downtown. Russel is a star linebacker for our local professional football team, the Grizzlies, and Colt is his agent.

Of freakin’ course.

And speak of the devil, Colt’s golden head appears from behind the door. “Hey,” he says, peeking in with a grin. “Can I see?”

“Not yet!” Stan shrieks and slams the door.

“Damn,” I laugh. “You almost took off his head.”

Stan just smirks and shakes his head. He straightens my dress and pushes me towards the full-length mirror. “Look at yourself, darling. You look perfect.”

Perfect would never be a word I’d use to describe myself. But I must admit I look good. Damn good, in fact. The black sheath dress fits me like a glove, and there’s a thin, golden belt resting high around my waist, just a couple of inches beneath my breasts. My long dark hair has been brushed out until it’s soft and fluffy, flowing down my back and over my shoulders. I’m wearing a pair of black pumps that make me look thinner and taller.

Peering at my reflection in the mirror, I don’t even recognize myself.

I look like some other woman.

“Well?” Stan prods. He looks at my face and I must look upset because his face immediately falls. “You don’t like it. Oh, darling, I’m so sorry…”

He reaches out for my zipper but I quickly sidestep him.

“No, it’s not that.” I rush to explain and end up stammering everything I’m feeling out. “God, why am I so upset about this? It’s a black dress, it’s not like it’s a wedding dress. I just look so different.”

I step closer to the mirror. Is that me? Is that beautiful, put-together creature really me?

“Stan, are you a wizard?”

He laughs at that. “No, honey. But you wouldn’t be the first to call me their fairy godfather.”

We laugh together and I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes.

Stan grabs me by the hand and gives me a hard, affectionate squeeze. We’ve only known each other for a couple of hours but he treats me as if he’s known me his whole life.

“Are you ready to knock Colt’s sock off?”

Will I knock his socks off? A small part of me sure hopes so.

I release my breath, straighten my shoulders and nod my head.

Grinning from ear to ear, Stan pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind if I record it? Only to show Russel later, of course.”

I laugh to cover my nervousness. “Go right ahead.”

God, why are we making such a big deal of this?

Stan pulls open the door and slips out first. He’s out there just long enough for me to begin to feel silly about what we’re doing. It’s just new clothes, nothing else. I didn’t even put any makeup on. Yet, the clothes themselves have changed me somehow. Looking in the mirror, I’m someone else. I’m still me, but I’m the me I always see myself as, the me I’ve always wanted to be. It’s like I’ve been turned inside out.

“Come on out, beautiful,” Stan calls out and I lift my chin.

Confidence. Be confidence. I am confidence. I tell myself as I walk out the door.

Colt slowly stands from the white couch he was sitting on and jerks a little. He looks stunned.

I freeze, feeling as if every bit of me just turned into ice.

We just stand there, staring at each other. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. My eyes keep searching his eyes.

“Whitney?” he finally asks softly.

I swallow down the huge boulder that’s formed in my throat. “Do you like it?”

His face lights up as his eyes roam slowly over me, “Damn.”

Does that mean he likes it? Or do I look so bad he can’t even form words? I look to Stan for help but Stan just zooms in on me with his phone camera.

“You look really, really good,” Colt says as if he has a throat full of gravel.

He clears his throat as I swing my attention back to him.

“I do?”

“You’re breathtaking, Whitney.” Colt clears his throat again. “Just listen to me. I can’t even find my voice.”

Wow. To have such an effect on him just because of what I’m wearing…and I’m as modest as can be. This is a professional dress, meant to be modest enough to wear to work. The hem hits me just above the knees. He didn’t even act like this when I was dressed up as the slutty school girl.

I hate to come off as weak or insecure but I look down at myself and tug at my hem. “Are you sure? It’s not too much for just an assistant?”

“No,” Colt says and strides over to me with determination. “You’re not just an assistant, Whitney. You’re my assistant, and you’ll have the best.”

It feels like there’s more to this. More that he’s not saying. And the way he said my, does he think I’m his? Am I his possession? Did he do this with his other assistants? I bet not. But I’m not going to confront him over this in front of Stan, especially with the camera rolling. So I smile, nod my head and freeze again when Colt’s fingers nudge against my chin, urging me to look back up at him.

“Is this okay with you? I don’t want to force you to wear things you don’t like. You don’t have to pretend to like it just for Stan.”

“As if!” Stan calls out and we both turn to look at him.

Colt’s eyes narrow and his face reddens as he takes in the camera. “You’re recording us?”

“It’s a beautiful moment. It should be recorded and cherished,” Stan sniffs and clicks his phone off.

Feeling the need to stick up for Stan I say, “I gave him permission. He wants to show his boyfriend.”

“Russel?” Colt asks doubtfully, as if he can’t believe it. “I highly doubt Russel will care about this.”

“You’d be surprised,” Stan grins knowingly at Colt. “Russel may be big and gruff, but my teddy bear has a soft spot.”

Colt laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time we have to do a press release for his unnecessary roughness.”

“Just as long as you don’t quote me on it,” Stan grins and inches his way towards the door to the back room.

Colt watches Stan with some bemusement as the little guy tries but fails to inconspicuously remove himself from the room. Colt calls out right before Stan disappears completely. “I’m going to want a copy of that recording.”

Stan yells back just before slamming the door. “I’ll send it with the rest of her things!”

“The rest of my things?” I ask softly, pulling Colt’s attention back to me.

His lids lower and his soft lips slightly part. Dropping his chin, he stares down at me hungrily.

“I love how you look in this dress so much my fingers are itching to tear it off of you.”

Colt reaches up and I’m afraid he means to do just that.

“Not here,” I gasp quietly.

“Not here,” he agrees solemnly and his hand grabs me by the back of the neck, holding me in place as he bends forward and kisses me.

Warm and soft, his lips press firmly against mine. I don’t why but every time our skin meets my knees feel weak. He groans deep in his throat and his fingers around the back of my neck grip me more tightly. Why do I let him do this? What is it about him that keeps me from being able to resist him? Just one touch and I’m already giving in.

His lips carefully, skillfully coax mine into opening.

In, his tongue enters my mouth, claiming me as if he owns me. Today he tastes warm and a little spicy behind the hints of his morning coffee. His tongue thrusts against mine but he’s not even trying to find a rhythm with mine. There’s no pause, he’s not waiting for me. His slides against mine, firm and dominating.

Back I’m bent and somehow his knee finds its way between my knees. The hand not gripping my neck brushes against my waist, and then his fingers are dancing up, brushing across the tips of my breasts. I feel my nipples tighten. I’m so sensitive I can feel him even through the stiff fabric of the dress.

His palm covers my breast completely and he squeezes, working me in his big hand. Now I’m moaning, my hands clutching at him. Desperately I try to keep up with his kiss but his tongue is relentless. My body flushes with heat and there’s this strong electrical tingle traveling directly to my core from my nipples.

My knees tighten around his knee. Purposely, he lifts his knee up and I feel the hem of my dress being lifted.

Vaguely I’m aware that we shouldn’t be doing this. He’s my boss now, I’m his employee, and we’re making out in the middle of a clothing store after he just purchase me an entire new wardrobe. Anyone could walk in and see this.

“Colt,” I murmur against his lips and push at him.

He growls and his mouth attacks my mouth as he pushes back. His hand at my breast squeezes hard and his fingers on my neck slide higher, his fingers tugging at my hair as they become entangled in it.

“Colt,” I try again as I suck in a much needed breath but he’s having none of it.

His teeth nip at my lip in warning then he soothes the tender spot with the caress of his silky lips.

I can either keep fighting him or just go with it. So what if someone walks in? So what if he’s my boss and I’m probably being paid for this very moment? Why do I always have to be so concerned about what everyone else thinks? I like this. Why does that mean I have to fight it?

Because everything I like is taken from me, I remember as his teeth bump against my teeth. His tongue is so deep in my mouth now it’s as if he’s trying to become one with me.

Nothing ever lasts—whether it’s having my mother there to take care of me or having a stable roof over my head. While growing up, every time I’d start to feel comfortable something bad would happen. Until I took matters into my own hands. But even then, after working my ass off, all it took was my mother finding my stash.

Nothing ever lasts, this can’t last, I think as I lift up, kissing him back with everything I have. I might as well enjoy him while I have him.

Fingers releasing my breast, I groan with disappointment as his hand drags down my stomach. Then he grips the bottom of my dress, lifting it up before his hand slips beneath it. His palm drags along my thigh and I find myself holding my breath in anticipation. Just as the tips of his fingers touch the edge of my panties, his progress is interrupted by the shrill ring of his smart phone.

Hands and lips stilling, he just holds me, waiting for the ringing to pass. The cellphone falls silent and then he’s attacking me again. This time the kiss is more desperate, everything is more urgent. His fingers slide into my panties; I feel the soft tips of his thick digits touching my slick lips.

His phone rings again.

He curses and pulls back. Breathing heavily, we pant together, our breaths mixing as we wait for the ringing to pass. When the phone stops and immediately starts back up he grumbles, “I’ve got to take this.”

I sigh and feel deflated. Slumping against his hard chest, I nod my head. It’s not his fault, it is what it is.

Colt wraps a beefy arm around me while he yanks his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah,” he snaps angrily, and I feel sorry for the person on the other end.

I can hear a lot of rushed chattering but can’t make out what exactly is being said.

“Oh, you do, huh?” Colt finally grunts and glares over my head in annoyance.

After a moment he snorts. “I understand.”

He slips the phone back into his pocket and huffs out another breath.

“Is everything alright?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says and reluctantly his arm around me loosens. “That was just Stan. He needs us to clear out of here because he’s got another client coming in.”