The Assassin Named Brooklyn now called Deadly Sins | Mafia Romance ✔️

7| Hands

Chapter 7

Eight hours, I spent eight hours in my apartment alone with my television on. Jackson sat me on the couch to enjoy my drunken nap. When I awoke, I decided packing, and reality television was the best possible combination with a six-pack of beer.

The series of lingerie, skimpy bikinis and tight dresses filled one suitcase while another with my preferred clothing-a series of clothing with no distinct style-comfort being the number one reason for its purchase.

"Clarissa." I have to go right about now.

"Yes, Ms. Brooklyn."

"Turn on the security systems. Only allow necessary bodies inside. Please inform me about any and all intruders that may arise. On my command alone, you may kill them." I would hate for Suzy to be killed because I forgot to set her as a visitor.

"Yes, Ms. Brooklyn."

Not three steps from my apartment, and she's here-the short, dark-skinned young female millionaire in training. I would say she was cute, but the amount of money I have given to this young girl for a simple job prevents me from admitting it.

"You're going on a business trip again?"

I don't bother to give her eye contact. When I was her age, I wouldn't know what to do with all the money I've given her. But not Suzy. She can't get enough of my hard-earned money.

"Yes, Suzy. I assume you will water my plants when I'm gone."

She crosses her arms. "Of course, but my prices have gone up."

"Are you serious? I'm already paying you some crazy amount of money." She's already getting paid a hundred dollars a day.

"Sorry, Brooklyn. But taxes are going up. "

"But you're not even paying taxes. You're eleven."

"That's beside the point."

"Then what is the point?" Why do I need to increase her already high pay?

"Every time you leave, you come back with ten new plants, and each plant has specific measurements of water. It takes me well over an hour to water all of them."

"Whatever, just text me how much." I walk down the long hallways with Suzy close behind me. "You do know there are plenty of kids that would gladly take this job for half the price."

"But none of those kids would be as reliable and as good at the job as me."

She's right; I have about a hundred different exotic plants, and not one has died since she's been taking care of them. I've hired professionals, but Suzy is better than all of them. She precise and doesn't cut corners. She follows my directions exactly down to the milliliter of water and amount of spray.

"Can I just transfer it to your bank account?"

"Sure thing, Brooklyn. Have a safe trip," she says, letting me pass.

"By the way, Suzy?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you have a bank account? You're eleven." I've been curious about this for a while.

"Because my mom says every young entrepreneur should have a savings account with a good interest rate."

That does sound like Suzy's mother. I've only met her a couple of times in passing. But from my knowledge, she's barely home. I've found Suzy way too many times in my apartment talking to Clarissa or sleeping on my couch due to boredom.

I feel bad for Suzy. She's too young to have to go through that type of loneliness. So, I don't mind paying her ridiculous prices. Or letting her crash in my apartment with an array of gadgets that she can play with for hours.