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Asher Woods and Brooklyn Reid adjusted their clothing. He tucked in his shirt and picked up his belt, fastening it securely around his waist. Brooklyn pulled her skirt down, which fell a few inches above her knees, and she searched for her panties.

She found it lying beside the leg of the table and picked it up, inspecting it. There was no way she could wear it again. It was beyond even the best of her abilities to sew back. And it was her good pair too!

Mr Woods saw her glancing helplessly as her tore undergarments. "Looks like you have to go commando today, Ms Reid."

She glared playfully at him. "Ya think?" she said sarcastically.

"In my defense, you were begging to to tear it off of you."

"You made me say those things!"

"Let's not shift the blame, shall we," he grinned. However, the smile didn't last as he actually took in her appearance. "Ms Reid, isn't that the exact same clothing you wore yesterday."

She looked down, ashamed. She had forgotten about that. "Is that an issue, Sir," she asked softly, embarrassed.

"No, it's not. But it might be a problem for you," he explained. "Come with me."

Mr Woods went to his office and pressed a button. It buzzed. "Samuel, get the car ready." He turned to her, "let's go."

Brooklyn's brows scrunched. "Sir, where are we going?" she fumbled as he pushed her along to the elevator.She still wasn't used to wearing heels.

"Getting you some clothes, Ms Reid, what else."

They entered the elevator. She argued, "what! No."

"What did I say about denying me."

"Mr Woods, you can't spend money on me. It's not right," she stood her ground.

"Who said I was paying. I'm deducting it from your paycheck. Call this...salary in advance."

"Fine," she grumbled. Then, a thought occurred to her, "Sir, what about the ambassador of the porn industry."

"Don't worry about it."

"What?"

"I can reschedule. It's not a problem, Ms Reid," he looked at her sternly.

"No no, it's not that. Are you saying that I wasted my whole night remembering  something that we don't need?" she asked in disbelief.

"We need it. Just not today."

The both of then exited the building and right on time, a sleek black car pulled up the front. The driver opened the door for them. "Mr Woods," he nodded, "Miss."

She said "thank you" and the door shut with a thud behind her. The driver went behind the wheel and started driving.

"Ms Reid, where do you usually get your clothing," he asked nonchalantly, as if they were talking about the weather. But what he doesn't know was that she hasn't stepped into a clothing store for at least three years. She couldn't afford it.

Money was a sensitive topic for her.

"I-"

"Ms Reid? What are your favorite shops."

It's a good thing she decided to leave her hair down today, because she just found a very good use for it. "The flea market," she answered in barely a whisper.

"The...flea market?" his face twisted, "you mean those places where they sell things by the streets?"

"No, Sir. I meant those high class places that I cannot afford in a lifetime," she couldn't stop the sarcasm from coming. 

She gets it. He's rich, he can spend money on useless things, but not everyone is so lucky to be successful in something. Sometimes hard work and dedication pays off, but sometimes it still wouldn't cut it, sometimes even though you put all your effort into something, it still wouldn't achieve the wanted outcome.

For Brooklyn, she didn't even get the chance to prove herself. To get anywhere, education is key. But she doesn't even have the most basic form of education. She can read and write, sure, but her abilities were limited to those. 

A job as a PA is great. After the ups and downs she had faced, she was given an opportunity. A chance to prove her worth. But as Mr Woods had so blatantly pointed out, she was only here to satisfy his sexual cravings.

"No need for this kind of behavior, Ms Reid," he chastised. "Samuel, take us to Avenue Street, the clothing block."

"Yes, Sir."

Brooklyn looked at him, wide-eyed. "Avenue Street? I can't pay for anything there."

"Good. Because I don't expect you to."

"But you said-"

"Screw what I said," he growled, "I'm getting you new outfits."

"Mr Woods, you know how I feel about that," she scoffed, glaring at him.

He glared back. "And you know how I feel about you going against my orders. I'm buying you new clothes and that's final."

They stopped by the side of the road, and Samuel opened the door for them. The street was a wide road, and shops lined the sides. But these aren't just any shops, these sell extremely expensive, unaffordable, superbly beautiful goods.

"Take your pick, Ms Reid." Mr Woods waited with his hands in his pocket, standing beside her.

She spun around to face him, completely horrified. "Sir, take me someplace else, please. I can't wear anything from these shops," she wailed. "It's too...expensive."

"Ms Reid, I'm paying."

"Mr Woods," she made sure to emphasize it, "I know you ran a background check on me before you officially hired me - reasons aside, so you should know my family background. This is not my scene, Sir. Please don't force me."

He looked at her. Really, really looked at her, and behind all the nonexistent makeup, long hair framing her face, and her natural beauty, he could tell she was genuine. She didn't want to eat off his money.

"Alright," he sighed. "Samuel, take us to a shopping mall."

They entered the car again. "Thank you, Sir."

"Don't thank me. You did all the convincing," he smiled.

The mall was the same as any other. There were shops on either side, going as high as five floors, but the brands are close to similar to Avenue Street.

"This is not what I was expecting," she commented, looking around. "What is the meaning of this, Sir, I was hoping for more H&M or F21, if you know what I'm saying. Not Gucci."

"Stop being such a whiner, Ms Reid," he said, "where do you want to start? Gucci, perhaps, since you mentioned it."

"Are you being serious right now? Have you listened to a word I said?"

"I did."

"And?"

"And what exactly, Ms Reid?"

"Ugh. It's like everything goes into one ear and comes out the other. How did you become so successful," Brooklyn huffed.

She waited for a reply, one second, two, but when there was none, she turned around to see the hold up. Mr Woods was just standing there, his face clouded over with a stormy expression.

Shit. What have I done.

"Mr Woods?"

"Stop talking," he growled, "Move." She gasped when she felt his hand on her back, pushing her forward with force. It was warm and comforting despite the actions he was taking. They went in the first shop.

"Hi, how can I help you?" the clerk asked, wearing a friendly smile.

"For the girl. Office attire," Mr Woods said curtly.

After wasting many good hours, going into multiple shops - each she came out with a few more pieces of clothing, she went home with more clothes than she could fit in her tiny wardrobe.

What a day.

Brooklyn's Break In #1 | ✔Where stories live. Discover now