THE JOB
1476 Words
Serene’s POV
My sneakers slapped against the uneven sidewalk, each step a frantic beat against the late afternoon hum of the city.
My backpack bounced against my spine, stuffed with library books and a crumpled tuition bill that mocked me from the side pocket.
Finals were a week away, and my last year’s university fees—$8,000 still unpaid—loomed like a storm cloud.
I needed money, and fast. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I clenched my fists around the straps of my bag pack.
Valencia, my best friend’s text text had buzzed through my panic an hour ago: “Come quick! Julian’s here with news.”
Valencia’s voice always carried a promise of hope, and I cling to it now, my breath fogging in the cool October air.
I hoped for a good news, something that could help me with my unpaid tuition fees.
Valencia’s apartment building came into view—a modest brick structure a few blocks from campus, nothing fancy but something her boyfriend, Julian, got for her.
I smoothed my faded jeans as I climbed the stairs. Valencia, with her perfect curls and designer scarves, was the kind of friend who made me feel small but safe.
We’d met in a literature class, bonded over worn copies of Austen, and Valencia had been my rock through late-night study sessions even though she never studied.
Today, though, something felt off—her urgency tingled like a warning.
The door swung open before I could knock, revealing Valencia’s wide smile—too bright, too forced.
“Seri! Get in here!” Her voice was a chirp, but her hazel eyes darted sideways, betraying a nervousness I didn’t understand.
Inside, the living room smelled of lavender candles, the couch cluttered with throw pillows. Julian lounged there, one leg crossed over the other, his tailored suit a sharp contrast to the casual space.
His dark hair was slicked back, his jawline chiseled, but his smirk carried a chill that made my stomach twist.
I’d met him once at a campus café—Valencia’s boyfriend, too smooth, too intense. Now, his presence filled the room like smoke. Something about him instantly made me timid and small.
Maybe because I knew …… who he really was.
Julian Volkov. The second son of The Volkovs. A big and …… scary personality.
“Hey, Serene,” Julian said, his voice a low drawl as he waved me toward the armchair.
“You look like you need a break.”
I slowly sank into the seat, my hands knotting in my lap.
“I… yeah, I guess. Finals are killing me.”
My voice was soft, barely above a whisper, a habit from years of fading into the background. I never liked being in attention and now sitting in front of him being the only thing his eyes would focus on, made my stomach to twist.
“You look broke, too,” he added, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His eyes—gray, like storm clouds—locked onto hers, assessing.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
I blinked, my pulse quickening. A job? My mind raced through possibilities—tutoring, waitressing—but Julian’s tone suggested something else. I needed money. A job that would help me pay my tuition as quickly as possible.
“What kind?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. I needed cash—desperately. The university had sent a final notice, threatening to withhold my degree.
“You’ll work for my brother,” Julian said, his smirk widening into something predatory.
“As a maid.”
The word hit me like a slap.
Maid?
I barely knew how to take care of myself, let alone take care for someone rich.
Confusion swirled in my chest, but then fear crashed in, cold and heavy as My mind processed the name, Julian took.
Julian’s brother.
“ Nicholas Volkov “
The name alone sent shivers down my spine.
A ruthless billionaire, twice my age, his reputation a dark legend whispered in corners—men vanished, companies crumbled, and women spoke of him in hushed tones of dread.
I’d seen his face on newsstands, all hard lines and piercing eyes, a man you avoided, not served. My gaze darted to Julian, wide and nervous.
“I… I don’t think I can—”
I heard too many rumors, too many news.
“You need to get some information from him,” Julian cut in, his voice hardening, cutting off my protest.
“No!”
I shook my head, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Spy? On Nicholas Volkov? The idea was insane—terrifying.
I pictured his towering frame, his rumored temper, and my knees weakened.
“I can’t do that. I don’t even know him!”
Valencia slid closer on the couch, her hand landing on my arm, warm but insistent.
“Come on, Seri,” she cooed, her voice soft as silk.
“It’s not that bad. You’re good at staying quiet, listening. Just… keep your eyes open. That’s all.”
Her smile was fake, too sweet, and my panic drowned it out. Valencia’s fingers tightened, a silent push, but her eyes flickered to Julian—complicit, calculating.
No. Spying on Nicholas Volkov, meant death and I was scared of death.
I pulled back, shaking my head again.
“No, I can’t. It’s wrong.” My voice cracked, tears prickling. I wasn’t a spy. I was just a girl trying to finish school. I didn’t want to get involved din some dirty work.
Julian leaned in, his face inches from mine, his breath tinged with mint.
“I’ll pay you a hefty amount if you succeed,” he said, his tone dropping to a seductive lure.
“Seven grand a month—more if you deliver. It’s just cooking his meals, cleaning his penthouse. Easy money.”
Seven thousand? My head spun, the number echoing in my mind.
That could clear my debt, let me graduate, maybe even breathe again. But Nicholas Volkov?
My throat tightened, fear clawing at my chest.
“I… that’s a lot, but—”
“Think about it,” Julian pressed, sitting back with a smug grin.
“A month. Get me details—business deals, secrets, anything. Or no deal.” He stood, towering over me, his presence suffocating.
“Take it or leave it.”
Valencia squeezed my hand again, leaning in close.
“You need this, Seri. For your degree. We’re here for you.” Her words were honey, but her grip felt like a cage.
My mind raced—seven grand a month, a chance to escape the red notices piling up. But spying? On a man like that? My stomach churned.
Even if I accepted what Julian was offering, I could would never ever succeed in front of a man like Nicholas Volkov.
“I don’t know how to spy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“What if he finds out?”
“He won’t,” Julian said, his smile turning cold.
“You’re just a maid. Invisible. Naive and shy. He’ll never suspect you. And if you do well, I’ll double it—fourteen grand. Your degree’s worth that, isn’t it?”
Fourteen thousand? The number dazzled me, a lifeline in the chaos.
I thought of my cramped dorm, the late-night shifts I couldn’t keep up with, the degree I’d fought for.
My resolve wavered, fear battling hope.
Valencia’s hand slid to her shoulder, a comforting weight—or a trap.
“You’re smart, Seri,” Valencia murmured. “You can do this. For us.”
Us. The word stung.
My trust in Valencia faltered. How could my best friend push me under the truck, but the money won. I let out a sigh and nodded, a tiny, reluctant dip of my head.
“Okay,” I breathed, the word tasting like ash.
Julian’s grin turned triumphant.
“Good girl. Start tomorrow. Wear something… presentable.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek keycard, tossing it onto the coffee table.
It skidded to a stop in front of me. His fingers brushed mine as I reached for it, a deliberate touch that sent a shiver down my spine—cold, possessive.
“Don’t disappoint me, Serene. My brother’s… particular.”
Valencia giggled, a sound too high-pitched, and Julian’s eyes met hers—silent agreement, a plan I didn’t grasp.
“You’ll be fine,” Valencia said, patting her hand.
“Just do what he says. Whatever he says”
But it didn’t feel easy.
My chest tightened as I pocketed the keycard, its weight a brand against my thigh.
Nicholas Volkov.
A man who could break me with a glance.
I stood, legs shaky, and mumbled a goodbye.
My first highest paying job.
A spy.
- Writer
