INFLUENCED: A Good Girl, Bad Boy Love Story

by Keyes, Janae

  INFLUENCED

  A Good Girl, Bad Boy Love Story

  Janae Keyes

  Shannon Youngblood

  Edited by

  Bethany Davis

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  A Note From the Authors

  About the Author

  About the Author

  INFLUENCED: A Good Girl, Bad Boy Love Story

  Copyright © 2017, Janae Keyes & Shannon Youngblood

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. References to real people, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely fictional and not meant to be considered real.

  Cover Design by.

  Courtney Cannon - Fiction-Atlas Author Services

  Chapter One

  Megan

  The echoes of my screams chimed through the halls of my parents’ Atlanta mansion. Panic took hold of me and my vision began to go double. This couldn’t be! Today was supposed to go perfectly, yet it was already a complete wreck.

  My alarm didn’t go off on time, so I woke up an hour later than planned. In a rush, I nicked myself while shaving my legs. My flat iron decided, of all mornings, this was the one it would decide to go to flat iron heaven, leaving my hair a frizzy mess. Now, the blouse I had set aside for weeks to wear today, was gone.

  Today was to be the first day of many for me. I was to start my internship at the law firm where my parents were both senior partners. I knew this place inside and out, but today would be my first time there in an official capacity. I expected nothing less than perfection.

  “Lucinda!” I screamed out, once more, for the head of housekeeping. She was the only member of the staff that I allowed to touch my closet. If anyone knew the whereabouts of my blouse, it would be her.

  “I’m coming ma’am,” called Lucinda’s voice the moment she entered my walk-in closet. I was practically having a panic attack by the time she got there. I didn’t have much time to get ready, and the shirt I planned to wear was missing.

  “My blouse, you know, the burgundy and white printed Diane von Furstenberg

  blouse I had to the side for today. I can’t find it.” My voice was shaking as my hysteria took hold of me. I closed my eyes for just a moment as I felt my chest tighten.

  “Miss. Reese, first, take a breath,” Lucinda instructed. I followed her instructions and slowly took deep breaths, my chest cavity began to open once more. I opened my eyes to clearly see the dark haired Hispanic woman watching me, her spirit incredibly calming. “You had me send that blouse to the cleaners last week,” Lucinda stated, keeping her calm. I didn’t see how she could be so calm.

  “I couldn’t have, I need it for today,” I insisted.

  “You did, you said there was a spot on it, and it needed to be sent away with the other items I took for you,” she informed me.

  I plopped my body down on the chaise lounge that sat in my closet. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go into my internship this way. Presenting a complete package was important, and my package was nowhere near complete.

  “What do you need, mija?” Lucinda questioned, as she began to finger through my clothes in an attempt to help me out of my hole. “You need something that shows you are driven, career minded, unapologetic, and intelligent.”

  “You know me so well,” I cooed to the woman I’d known my entire life.

  “This top always looks great on you,” she mentioned, as she pulled a fuchsia, just off the shoulder, shirt from my closet.

  “The color is a little bright. I feel like my mom wouldn’t be pleased with me wearing something so bright,” I said with a frown. My mother was all business; formality was everything for her. She’d drilled specific principles into me since I was small.

  “It is perfect then, and all eyes will be on you and your talent.” Lucinda didn’t have to tell me twice. I was sold. “And this skirt for a little sex appeal.” She handed me a high waisted black pencil skirt that accentuated every curve.

  “Will this be first day appropriate?” I questioned, as I stood from the chaise and wandered toward my floor to ceiling mirror. I held the articles of clothing in front of my body.

  “They are perfect,” my fantastic housekeeper beamed. “Now get dressed, the kitchen has breakfast prepared for you already and Will has brought your car around front.”

  “Thank you so much,” I mused, giving her a grand smile.

  The clicks of my black pointed toe Louboutins demanded attention as I strode through the entrance hall of the mansion I’d called home since I was a little girl.

  I’d gained back some of the confidence that was fading in the earlier hours of the morning.

  “You look stunning, mija. You will be hard to miss on your first day,” Lucinda praised as I neared the front door. I bit my lip; I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. My first idea was to run upstairs and change, but there was no time.

  “I’m so nervous,” I noted truthfully. I wasn’t one to allow my insecurities to be seen or heard by others, but Lucinda was a special case. If I were to tell anyone how I felt right then, it would be her, as she knew exactly what to say to put my mind at ease.

  My mother was an amazing woman, but she lacked in empathy. From the day I was born, my mother showed me the benefits of hard work and perseverance. Heck, she was back in the courtroom defending a case only two days after having me. To her, the main objective in life was to be successful, no matter the cost.

  Lucinda was the complete opposite of my mom. The older Puerto Rican woman worked hard, but she loved hard too. Whenever I needed a hug or a word of encouragement, she was the person to turn to. I wouldn’t exactly say my mother was cold, but she wasn’t one to expect a hug from on a stressful day.

  “You better get going,” Lucinda remarked, and she was right. Commute traffic in Atlanta could be a bitch. “And stay calm, you don't need to have an attack.” Again, she was right. Today was not the day to have an asthma attack.

  With a final hug, I waved goodbye to Lucinda and rushed outside into the humid summer air. As promised, my car was waiting. I jogged around to the driver’s side of my obsidian black S-Class Mercedes convertible. It was a gift from my parents when I graduated pre-law from Yale. Hard work yields rewards, they always told me.

  ***

  As suspected, traffic was a bitch. Luckily, I’d left early enough to get to downtown Atlanta just in time. I pulled in front of the tall office building and to the valet who awaited the arrival of his next client, me. I’d been to this building plenty of times over the years, and I knew this valet well.

  “Good Morning, Miss Reese,” he greeted as he opened my door.

  “Good Morning, Justin,” I said to the guy who was
about my age, early twenties. He was cute, tall, dark-skinned, almost like a younger Idris Elba. I’d gone on one date with him a few years ago, after he started working at the building. He was a nice guy and all, but I felt zero connection, neither did he. Plus, my parents weren’t the most accepting of the possibility of that relationship. We came to the conclusion to move on as friends, though friends morphed into our current and more professional relationship.

  Justin presented me with his hand, I took it, and he allowed me to step from my car. His eyes were on me like glue, working their way from legs and up.

  “My face is here, Justin,” I insisted. At once, his eyes shot up into my own and his cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment.

  “How’s school? Are you back at Yale?” He asked, in an attempt to make small talk.

  “No, since graduating, I’ve been at Harvard Law. I just finished my first year actually,” I beamed. I loved the feeling of accomplishment that flushed through me, though even with all my accomplishments, I felt something was missing. I knew I’d find my missing piece once I graduated and passed the bar, following my parent’s footsteps. “I know you were applying for grad school, how’s it going?”

  “I was, but, I decided it wasn’t for now. I’m drowning in debt from my undergrad degree. Maybe one day,” Justin said with a shrug as he slipped into the driver’s seat of my car that I’m sure cost more than his four years in college. “Let me get you parked. See you later.”

  “Yeah, later,” I mumbled as he closed the door and drove off towards the underground garage.

  Going inside the building, the lobby was full of people going to and from the various offices in the building. I strode towards the elevators and pressed the button to go up.

  I noted the plaque on the wall with what companies were on which floors. I found my destination on the list, though I knew exactly where I was going.

  Grant, Reese, Reese & Associates at Law, 21st Floor.

  With a ding, the doors opened, and I stepped into the empty elevator, I pressed the button for my floor. A few others followed me in and pushed the buttons for their respective floors.

  “Mmm, Mmm,” hummed a man standing not far behind me. I slightly glanced and spotted his eyes directly on my behind. I knew this skirt was most likely a little too risque, and I cursed myself for wearing it.

  The moment the elevator reached the 21st floor, I rushed out and into the lobby of Grant, Reese, Reese & Associates.

  The large room was painted in a cerulean blue and everything was accented in cherry wood. It was warm, yet professional.

  I strode toward the receptionist desk. The middle-aged black woman was on a phone call and waved me through with a kind smile.

  Going through the double doors, I found myself in a hall full of offices. I knew exactly where I was to report this morning and began to make my way toward the conference room.

  A few of the lawyers who worked at the large firm my parents headed waved to me as I made my way along the corridor. I spent my childhood roaming the halls of this place, and it was in the blood that ran through my veins.

  The moment I reached the conference room, I went to open the door, but my hand was quickly grabbed in a dominating grip. My eyes shot up into the deep brown eyes of my mother. A look of disapproval was plastered on the face of the middle aged woman.

  With no words, she pulled me along towards her office. I struggled to keep up with her quick and determined pace.

  Her secretary gave me a small wave as she pulled me along into her large office. I was always in awe of the offices my parents had at the firm. Once in my mother’s sanctuary, I was greeted with a magnificent view of Atlanta through the floor to ceiling windows.

  My awe didn’t last long. My mom snapped me from my daydream and into reality as she leaned against her glass desk and observed me. I tried not to bite my lip out of nerves; I knew my mom hated when I did that, she called it a sign of weakness.

  “What is this you’re wearing?” she growled, as she continued to look at me, her arms crossed over her chest.

  My mom was a petite woman, but she could command the room with a single look. It was rumored that other lawyers would purposely throw cases when they learned my mother would be opposing counsel, she was tough as nails.

  The woman that gave birth to me was poised and businesslike in a grey pants suit. Her ebony hair pulled into a tight and elegant bun. I idolized her my entire life and her approval, along with the approval of my father, meant the world to me. I knew I wasn’t on good terms with her at the moment.

  I gulped, as I tried to find the correct words to answer her. “Well, ma’am,” I started, trying to keep my voice from shaking. My chest began to grow tight, I needed to breathe. “I...umm..”

  “You what? You wanted to come into my office on the first day of your internship, looking like a hussy?” she hissed in my direction. “That skirt is incredibly too tight, and that blouse is as well. Plus, that color is demanding the wrong kind of attention.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, glancing down at the floor. I closed my eyes in an attempt to find my calming place. The confidence I’d built up thanks to Lucinda was crashing down the mountainside with my mother’s words. She demanded a level of perfection, and I did not meet it this morning; I would have to try better. “It won’t happen again, ma’am,” I choked out. My breathing erratic, I tried to calm myself and catch a decent breath.

  “It better not. Stop with the asthma attacks already,” she growled.

  I took a moment, keeping my eyes closed, I took a deep breath. I knew I could always use the inhaler in my purse but I tried not to, especially in the presence of my mother. I finally found that moment where my lungs opened again and I could breathe. I opened my eyes to see my mom rolling her eyes. She always viewed my asthma as attention seeking.

  “And what in the world is going on with your hair?” She brought herself back into a full standing position before stalking to her desk. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a brush. She handed it in my direction. I nearly tripped over my heels as I rushed to her. “Fix it. My daughter is going to represent this firm with poise.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I replied, before I rushed to the mirror placed in my mom’s office. I pulled my hair from the ponytail I had it in and used the brush to catch any straggling edges before pulling my long wavy hair into a tight bun, similar to the one my mother wore.

  “Much better,” she proclaimed, as she stood behind me in the mirror. “Your ensemble will have to do for today, but tomorrow, come looking like you want to be a lawyer, not a receptionist.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I repeated.

  “Now, get off to the conference room before you are late. Tardiness is not tolerated here,” she insisted. I nodded as I handed her the brush she had lent me and rushed out of her office. As I said, my mom lacked in the empathy department.

  I straightened my skirt before I entered the large conference room. Sitting around the glass table were a few others, all around my age and obviously, all in the summer internship program. The one thing I had above all, I didn’t have to apply to the program; acceptance was immediate.

  I found a seat, one over from a brunette who blew large bubbles with her bubble gum. She sat doodling on the cover of her notebook. Across from me was a young black guy, light-skinned, and he looked like he was about to crap his pants. Towards the front of the table was a slim blonde who sat filing her nails. Lastly, there was an adorable nerdy guy who reminded me of Dwight from The Office. He wore a horrible olive green colored button up with bright blue suspenders.

  “Hey,” a voice said in my direction. I sharply turned to see the brunette was looking in my direction, a kind smile plastered on her face.

  “Er-- Hi,” I said, trying to regain a little bit of the cheer that had been stripped from me by my mom.

  “I’m Jeannie Mae,” she said, her southern accent strong. It was obvious she was from the countryside, not native to Atlanta.

  “Megan,
” I said, as I extended my hand to her. She shook it, and she seemed to glance nervously around the room.

  “I’m a little scared,” she confessed. “I wonder what this Heather woman is going to be like.”

  I knew who she was speaking of. Heather Grant was a coordinator at the firm and the head of the internship program. She was also the wife of my parent’s law partner Steve Grant.

  The Grants and my parents went way back to law school. Heather and my mom were roommates, and Heather was dating Steve, who was a study partner of my dad’s. Heather convinced my mom to go on a blind double date, and it was love at first sight. My mom and dad were instantly partners in love and law.

  After graduation, my parents and Steve decided to start a small firm together that grew into the powerhouse that it was today. Heather wasn’t interested in practicing law anymore and stayed at home as a housewife before she began to work at the firm in her current capacity.

  “Heather is a sweetheart and very understanding. Don’t be too nervous,” I informed Jeannie Mae. I saw relief wash over her at my words.

  “So, you know her?” Jeannie Mae questioned.

  “Yeah, I grew--.” I was unable to finish as the door opened and my mom’s best friend entered the room.

  Heather Grant could be a supermodel in her spare time. She stood in the doorway, observing the room for a moment, her gray eyes taking all of us in. Her perfectly curled chocolate brown hair sat on her shoulders, and her hips were hugged just right in her indigo skirt.

  “Good morning!” she practically sang as she entered the room fully, closing the door behind her.

  “Good morning!” we replied in unison.

  “Welcome to your first day as interns at Grant, Reese, Reese, and Associates. I’m Heather Grant, wife of Steve and the internship coordinator. Any questions you have when it comes to your internship and tasks are to be directed to me. While here, you will be helping out where needed. You might be required for smaller tasks like filing and copying, but you will also accompany some of our lawyers to court.” She stood at the front of the room, all of our eyes glued to her in awe.