Reader is Trent Alexander Arnold's twin sister. The two have been inseparable since childbirth, more so now when Reader is fresh out of university looking for a job, crashing at her brother's place whilst doing so. One day Reader gets a job offer that she cannot refuse, however it would mean working for her brother's biggest rival in football, Ruben Dias.

Enjoy!

"You want me to be your what?"

"Stylist." Ruben repeated.

The shop was supposed to be closed as the time was currently fifteen minutes past nine. But apparently Ruben had sent for you earlier that day, however there had been some miscommunication between him and his assistant, ultimately leading to Ruben returning to Grandma's shop, looking for you personally.

"I'll pay you twice as much as you're getting here." He said. Clueless to the fact that Grandma wasn't paying you at all, working you like a slave.

"But why me? I'm not a stylist." You asked, still shook from the way he had barged into the shop, surprising you in the dark.

"Look, I'm in a bit of a crisis. My stylist just quit on me." He explained.

"She did? Why?"

"He actually. And I guess I sort of fired him."

"Oh. And why is that?"

Ruben looked to his feet, hiding his blossoming cheeks. "Well, after my appearance at the award ceremony in Portugal the other day. People..." He coughed. "My teammates to be specific, started calling me the leprechaun of Manchester City."

"Hmm. I wonder why?" You smiled.

"I'll admit that going with the green suit wasn't the best fashion choice I've ever made." He nodded. At least he was able to see the funny side of it. To you Ruben had initially come off as someone who couldn't take a joke. Like his assistant for example. "I should have listened to you when you tried to warn me. But that's why I'm here, to listen to you, as my new stylist."

"I see." You said, folding your arms. You began circling him like a shark. "Even though I have no experience?"

He shrugged. "You seem to have enough fashion sense."

"Right."

You were currently wearing blue jeans and a Levi's t-shirt, complemented with a pair of run down sneakers. Ruben must really be desperate for a new stylist. You wondered how you could use this in your favor.

"And you didn't freak out when I came into your store the other day. Most people would have begged for an autograph or a video of me giving a shout out to their business. You didn't ask me to do any of that."

"Right." You nodded. In the back of your head you were laughing. "So you need someone unafraid to tell you like it is. For example when you make horrendous fashion choices and so on?"

"Exactly." He nodded. "I need someone just like that. I've worked with so many people that call themselves professionals but just end up kissing up to me. It's money wasted on my side, since I get people kissing up to me for free every day."

"Alright big boy, enough about your complaints of being rich and famous."

Ruben frowned. "I wasn't complaining."

"No?" You looked at him skeptically.

The corner of his lips twitched. "Okay, maybe I was complaining a little."

You chuckled.

"So this job offer, what else does it include?"

"What do you mean?"

"Beyond my salary I mean. What are the other benefits?"

"Well, you get to come with me to all of my events, football games and such."

You rolled your eyes.

"What? You don't like football?

"It's not that, I've just had enough of it in my life."

"Because of your brother?"

"What?" Your heart jumped.

Ruben laughed at your startled reaction. "It's just that when you mentioned him. It just seemed like he is a very passionate Liverpool fan."

"Right, a fan." You chuckled. "I guess you can say that."

"Yeah, some people get like that. I say it's bad for the sport when people get too personal about it. At the end of the day it's just a game."

"Tell that to Grandma." You muttered.

"What?"

You perked up "Nothing! So when can I start?"

Ruben's face lit up. "I'll have my assistant send a car for you tomorrow. I need to shop for a new wardrobe after firing my former stylist. I can't trust to wear anything he's made me buy."

"Hold up." You paused. "You're shopping for a whole new wardrobe. Like entirely new clothes?"

Ruben nodded. "Even socks."

"Right. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I'll see you tomorrow..." Ruben stepped up to you, offering his hand. "I didn't get your name."

Heat rose to your face. "It's Y/N. Y/N, Arnold."

"Nice to meet you Y/N Arnold, I'm Ruben Dias. Your new boss."

A thousand thoughts roamed through your mind, firstly how handsome Ruben looked up close. However you quickly shook that thought away. It was a dangerous thought. A thought that could lead to something messy. You wondered how Grandma would take it if you quit working at the shop. Technically you wouldn't need to quit, but you couldn't tell her that you were working for Ruben Dias, a Manchester City football player. What would your family say? What would Trent say?

Trent....

He would be outrageous. Betrayed to the bone, just like he betrayed you. The thought amused you, sincerely because it would be the ultimate revenge. The perfect revenge.

********************************************

"Look at her Ruben, she's too young, too inexperienced."

"She's perfect Miranda."

Less than twenty-four hours later, a car was sent to pick you up from your grandmother's address. You were taken to some obscure boutique in Manchester that was highly praised for their men's couture. Ruben named his budget and left you to it, whilst he and his assistant sat back discussing your arrangement as if you couldn't hear them.

"It's a gamble Ruben, if something goes wrong she'll...."

"It won't." He said sternly. You were surprised how much he was pushing to keep you, even though his assistant clearly thought otherwise. "Trust me, she's the right person for the job."

"I'll believe it when I see it." His assistant muttered. Just then you came baring a mountain of clothes.

"A little help." You groaned.

Ruben stood, unhanding you the many items. You had gone all out, picking out outfits for every occasion, casual and formal.

"I guess I better try these on." He said.

"Yes, and remember, black can never go with blue, nor red with white."

"Got it." He nodded and disappeared into the only dressing room in the shop.

"Ruben might think that this is a good idea, but I don't." Miranda, Ruben's assistant said.

You sat down next to her.

"Hiring a young girl like you to be his personal stylist can only end in heartache and I'm not talking about my heart or Ruben's."

You pondered her words and thought carefully how to respond. "I'm Y/N, by the way. I don't think we were probably introduced that day, you mistook me for my colleague Jennifer."

Ruben's assistant looked down at your outstretched hand as if you were offering her a shot of poison Ivy. Either way, she was too professional not to shake it. You startled her with your firm grip, making her meet your determined gaze. "I take it the term personal assistant, doesn't really require me to have a personal relationship with whom I'm working for. I'm only here to do my job and go home, no?"

His assistant searched your face, eyes narrowed. A sly smirk then twitched the corner of her lips. "That would mean a job well done, yes."

"Good." You let go of her hand. "Then we're both on the same page."

For you this arrangement was strictly business. Strictly revenge to be exact. There were no other strings attached.

"Yeah, this is what I'm talking about."

The curtains to the dressing room flung open and Ruben stepped out wearing a leather jacket, gray turtleneck and a pair of dark jeans that fit him a little too well.

"I like this look. Good job Y/N."

"Pleasure is all mine." You smiled.

His assistant stood. "Shall we take some pictures for your Instagram?" She pulled out a small camera out of her purse. A Canon camera to be exact, with the ultra lens. What seemed odd to you was perfectly normal to Ruben, who followed his assistant out of the shop and onto the streets. He began posing in front of the camera, leaning against a brick wall, whilst Miranda snapped a couple of shots.

"Are these for Ruben's Instagram?" You questioned.

"Yes." He answered, since Miranda ignored you. "People would love to see the outfit of the day, it's also the fastest way to get a response, see if you've done your job well." He winked.

You were still frowning. "Why aren't you smiling?" You asked.

"Huh?"

"In any of the photos. Why so serious?" Your words made him chuckle just as his assistant snapped a shot. Miranda groaned as she looked at her camera, examining the image.

"What? He looks good." You said, peering over her shoulders.

"He looks unprofessional." She said, "The brands that Ruben is working with won't want him beaming at the camera like a foolish boy."

"I bet the fans would love it." You said, to which Miranda turned to you with the nastiest of glares. Luckily Ruben appeared behind the both of you, his attention drawn to the image of him beaming like a foolish boy.

"Keep it." He said. "Y/N is right, the fans will love it."

You had the sudden urge to stick your tongue out at Miranda, however you managed to contain yourself, turning to Ruben and bowing your head with courtesy. The way he was looking at you, a stupidly boyish smile on his face, told you that doing your job was going to be harder than you thought. However it was all for one cause, to make Trent pay for what he had done.

Part 5  and 6  are already out on my Patreon for free (Link below)

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