by Young, M. L.
TAKEN BY YOU
M.L. YOUNG
KINDLE Edition
Copyright 2015 M.L. Young
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances of characters to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. The author, M.L. Young, holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover Design: © L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
Formatting by Mayhem Cover Creations
INTRODUCTION
This book features alternating points of view. Each chapter is titled with the character whose point of view you are reading from.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Penelope
“Okay, I think I’m ready to go,” I said as I wiped my hands on my pants, which was also to try to calm down the wrinkles.
“In that?” my roommate, Nicolette, asked.
“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?” I asked in an unsure tone as I looked down at myself before looking back up at her.
“Nothing, if you’re a fifty-year-old cat lady who has some tissue shoved up her sleeve,” Nicolette said in her usual sarcastic voice.
I walked over to the full-body mirror we had on the back of our bathroom door and looked myself up and down as I tried to see the fault in my outfit. Sure, I was never one for “fashion” or “trends,” but why did that kind of stuff even matter? I was myself, and that’s who I was comfortable being, even if it meant never getting a second look from a man or impressing people like Nicolette.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, Penny.
It’s just not something I’d wear to an interview, that’s all,” Nicolette said.
“Well, of course not. You’re like some, I don’t know, a Kardashian or something,” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration.
“Bitch, please. Don’t compare me to them,” she said, looking at me with her left eyebrow raised.
I laughed, before looking back in the mirror and seeing what was something good to me, and that was all that really mattered. Who cares if she didn’t like it? Not me. I wasn’t going to this internship interview to impress anyone with my clothes, anyway. I was going to hopefully score a paid internship that would not only help me out now, but also in the future. All that should matter was my resume, my credentials, and most of all, what I could do for the company, even if I was just a lowly intern.
I was unfortunate enough to still have another semester at school before graduation. Nicolette was lucky to have the chance to intern at this company during her senior year and was offered a job straight out of school, which was about as lucky as you could get. I first attempted to intern somewhere else, a software development company, but it turned out the CEO and board of directors were embezzling money and now the Department of Justice was looking into them, which meant no internship or job for poor Penelope Wells.
The only reason I had this interview was because of Nicolette, who was both my roommate and best friend, though I couldn’t tell her that—it would go to her head. We met during my freshman year in an intro to psychology class and instantly clicked, even though she’s more of the prissy type and I’m, well, me. How we meshed so well together I’d never know.
“How long until we have to leave?” I shouted across the apartment.
“About fifteen minutes,” she yelled back.
I grabbed my bag, which was a basic and unassuming black leather wearing out on the bottom from years of use. I could feel slight hints of butterflies fluttering about my stomach as I thought about what I was going to say in the interview and how many other people might or might not be there. I wasn’t good in front of crowds or in intense situations. That was why I became a programmer. I’m able to be alone a lot of the time coding while the world seems to quickly pass me by. It’s an introvert’s dream job.
The offices were in San Francisco, which was odd because most of the tech companies, at least the major ones, were in Silicon Valley, which was a little drive outside of the city but nothing too crazy. Definitely wasn’t fun for a commute, especially when I still had some classes, but it was almost worth it to be able to work at one of those companies.
The company Nicolette worked for and where I’d hopefully get an internship, was RandomMeetX, which was a dating and hookup app that had been blowing up the charts for the past year. It allowed you to basically find good-looking people in your area to chat with and maybe meet for the night or something beyond. I had never used it before, which was something Nicolette got on me about, but it just wasn’t really for me.
I’d never been the pretty little flower that could stop a man dead in his tracks with just one glance. I was more the awkward girl at the party who was stuffing her face with shrimp puffs before putting some in her purse for later that night because her grocery money dwindled down a little too far. Hooking up with complete strangers wasn’t really my thing either. It wasn’t that I was against sex—I wasn’t, but I felt so, I don’t know, weird about it with somebody I hadn’t connected with. Chatting up some random guy you don’t even know and have never met and then making plans to let him fuck you seemed a little out there, even if it was the biggest thing at the moment.
“Ready to go?” Nicolette asked, as she grabbed her keys.
“Yes,” I said, grabbing my bag and walking out behind her.
I locked the door behind us and we walked down our five flights of stairs to the lobby, which was more of a small room and not anything magnificent. There were two sets of doors, ones that were locked and the others that went outside, with gold mailboxes inside that were constantly stuffed with fliers for a Chinese restaurant around the corner. There are only so many times you can hear about the egg drop soup special before you want to hang yourself with a giant noodle.
We walked two blocks down to where Nicolette was parked and before I could even get my door fully closed, she was off like a horse with a carrot dangling in front of its face. I wasn’t lucky enough to have a car, so I relied solely on public transportation and my own two feet. This wasn’t a city you needed a car in, but I had to admit that having a roommate with one was especially helpful on mornings like this. I’d much rather sit in this seat than be stuck next to some smelly man on the bus.
I looked out the window as we passed a plethora of different people during our painfully slow journey to the office. I saw men in suits, women in fitted dresses with their bags cocked in place in their arms, and more homeless people than I’d like to admit.
The office was downtown in the Financial District, which seemed like a million miles away from where we lived, tho
ugh I guessed I could somewhat attribute that to the slow commute and my undying nerves. The anticipation made time feel a lot slower.
When we finally arrived, Nicolette did a sloppy parking job that was reminiscent of sixteen-year-old me in my father’s old Subaru, and we began our short walk to the office, which was in a towering building that appeared to be a thousand stories high.
“That’s it. That’s the building,” Nicolette said, as we stood on a street corner waiting for the light to change.
“That entire building?” I asked.
“Oh God, no,” she said, laughing. “Just five floors.”
“Oh, but still, that’s a lot—especially in San Francisco,” I said.
“Yeah, who knew that there was so much money to be made in pre-marital sex?” she asked, smiling.
With the brisk January air beating against us, we walked inside the building through the revolving doors that had always fascinated me as a child. Now I might be working in a place that had them, meaning I could walk through them every day. My five-year-old self was dying right now. Dying.
The lobby was grand; probably two stories tall itself, with shiny, bold white floors. There were a few security officers standing at a checkpoint of sorts before you could get to the elevators. People walked up and scanned their badges, before being let through and off to their floors.
“You’re going to need to get a visitor’s badge at the desk there. I’ll wait for you,” Nicolette said, as she pointed to an enclosed black desk near the security officers.
I walked up, nobody else behind or in front of me, and was greeted by a slightly pale man with a crew cut and a mole just above his lip. He didn’t look too thrilled, but then again, why would he?
“Can I help you?” he asked in a thick Russian accent.
“Hi, I have an interview and was told I needed a visitor’s badge,” I said shyly.
“Name?” he asked.
“Penelope Wells,” I said, as I fidgeted with my thumbs.
“I have you here on the list. Here is your badge. Please clip it onto your person and don’t take it off. Return it to me before you leave,” he said, before handing me the badge.
“Thank you,” I said with a shy smile, clipping the badge to my shirt.
With her badge held firmly in her hand, Nicolette walked up and scanned it before the green light shone and she was let through. I walked up behind her, showing my badge to the security officers, and they nodded and let me through. As Nicolette pushed the button for the elevator I felt a sea of tremors deep down in my stomach.
After losing out on the other internship I had been a little on edge about money and keeping myself afloat. I had money saved from a cashier job I’d had for the past couple years, and this internship was a paid one, if I got it, but San Francisco isn’t exactly known for its cheap prices—especially rent. Nicolette was lucky that she had no problems, and I knew I would be fine with this opportunity behind me, but what if I didn’t get it? I’d be back to square one, and I wasn’t sure I could afford even that square. I’d need more like square negative fifteen or something.
The elevator dinged before it opened and a few people scurried out like rats with a light shining on them. We walked inside, about ten other people cramming themselves in, and I was pushed to the back while Nicolette played attendant at the buttons and pressed whatever floor she was told.
An unsightly man with his wrinkled white dress shirt tucked into his underwear stood in front of me, my stomach mere inches from rubbing up against his back. I sucked it in, getting myself a little extra room, and prayed he’d get off at the next stop.
After a few stops ours came, with Nicolette motioning for me to get off. The other remaining people were kind and I squeezed through before hopping off and brushing off my outfit.
“Well, are you ready? Are there any last questions you want to ask? We have a few more minutes before we need to go in,” Nicolette said, as we stood in the lobby for the floor.
“I don’t know,” I said nervously, as I wiped my clammy palms on my lint-covered black pants.
“Just be calm, and most importantly, be yourself. You’re a great candidate and I know they would be damned lucky to have you, even if you’ll mostly be doing coffee runs. You’ll be fine,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, nodding a little, before she opened the large glass doors that displayed the company’s logo on the front.
A woman behind a desk was on the phone and smiled at me before transferring the call and hanging up.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Hi, I have an interview today for an internship,” I said.
“Name please?” she asked.
“Penelope Wells,” I said, as my voice cracked a little.
“Ah, yes, Ms. Wells, I have you here. If you’d come with me I can take you to the waiting area with the other candidates,” she said with a smile.
Just the thought of competing against a room filled with other qualified candidates made me want to break out in hives. Shy and very introverted people aren’t that great with competition—especially in interviews.
“Take good care of her, Melissa. She’s my roommate and best friend,” Nicolette said.
“Aw, yeah? Will do, Nicolette,” Melissa said.
“You’ll be fine. Text me afterwards and let me know how it goes,” Nicolette said.
“Right this way,” Melissa said.
I gave a nervous smile to Nicolette before following Melissa past the lobby and into the expansive floor filled with cubicles and offices. The floor was large, with abstract paintings on the walls and people rolling around on scooters. The atmosphere looked exciting, as people joked and laughed like they were out at a bar and not sitting on the job toiling away for a paltry paycheck like they did at my last job. Nicolette had definitely never mentioned any of this.
“Here we are,” Melissa said, as she extended her arm.
The room, if you could even call it that, was filled with two benches and enclosed in glass. It faced front towards a long open walkway that was surrounded by offices and open cubicles where all of the employees, which would hopefully include me, worked. I looked around for Nicolette but didn’t see her anywhere, which was a shame. Oh well, it wasn’t like I was going to be able to go talk to her anyway.
There were four other candidates here, and I had no idea if more were on the way. They didn’t even notice me as I walked in, and each of them was wildly different from the next. There was an overweight guy with a ten-year-old suit that you could tell he never wore, a guy with thick-rimmed glasses and a hipster haircut, a woman around my age in a pantsuit, and a disheveled Asian man who was furiously typing away on his laptop. I hoped people here didn’t think I fit in with them.
As the minutes wore on, people were taken out one by one and into another room about ten feet or so down the hallway. As the last guy, the Asian man, was taken out, I looked around to see nobody else around me. They hadn’t brought in anyone else for the interviews, and I had already been sitting here at least an hour and a half, so I assumed it was safe to say I’d be the last one to drudge through a long, arduous procedure of an interview.
I mostly sat there the entire time looking out and around the office. People seemed so joyous, even when they were working, that I began to wonder if this was normal or just a front for prospective employees. Maybe they forced everyone to act all nice and happy so we’d think this was such a great place, but in reality they used slave labor and heaps of energy drinks to keep their employees going at a breakneck pace that could kill them. Yeah, that must be it. Nobody was this happy at work—especially this early in the morning.
The Asian man came out of the room with bloodshot eyes before quickly walking past the room I was in and talking to himself. The woman who was interviewing us all didn’t yet come out, though as I nervously sat and watched for her, I noticed something—someone, else.
Around the corner and down the long hall a man appeared, his gray suit crisp. H
is white shirt looked like it was painted on his body. People around him stopped and looked at him, all of them in awe, as he didn’t look like your average employee. Nobody here wore a suit, not even the executives with the offices I’d seen coming and going. It was so casual here, but he wasn’t casual—not at all.
He looked down the hallway at me, stopping, before staring into my eyes and in turn, what felt like into my soul. I could see remnants of stubble lining his strong jaw, and his lips appeared full, though not overbearingly so. A twinkle from his wrist, a watch, shined towards me quickly as he continued to look at me. Who was this man? What was he doing here? Why was he looking at me?
I looked to my right, then my left, attempting to see if anybody else was around me. I was so nervous that it was possible somebody could be here, but nobody was. It was just me on this padded bench, and I was alone.
As I looked back, his gaze still stuck on me, the woman who would be interviewing me walked out of her office and broke the stare and connection we shared. She smiled at me, her hair waving back and forth as she walked as she came towards me, her hand extended. I smiled, stood up, and shook her hand.
“Hello, Penelope, my name is Sharon, and I’ll be your interviewer today. I’m sorry for the long wait. We’ve had a lot of qualified applicants for this internship,” Sharon said.
“It’s no problem at all, Sharon. Thank you for the opportunity to interview with you today, and I very much look forward to talking with you,” I said with a smile.
“Same,” she retorted, as she mimicked my smile. “Please follow me.”
I walked out of the room, following her as she walked into her office. I looked back down the hallway before I walked in behind her, but he was gone. Who was he?
CHAPTER TWO
Blake
Control.
Everyone wants it, but not everyone has it. I, Blake Hunter, have it. I made a vow to myself on October 25, 2011 that I would never lose it again.