Page 3 of The Mafia's Seamstress

My eyes widened. Really? Cursing? Was that even necessary when we’ve only spoken a few sentences? Annoyance sparked across my face. My customer service mask was cracking.

I crossed my arms, making my way towards the register. I was used to rude customers and it didn’t matter how much his slacks cost, he wasn’t going to get away with treating me that way. I didn’t care if he was having a shitty day. My shop, my rules. Well my avô’s shop. But I was in charge, so my rules.

"One, watch your tone. Two, I understand that you having an appointment with him and him not being here is an inconvenience. However, I am here and I can help you with what you need," I said, standing behind the register. Before he could speak I held up my hand, glancing at the calendar on the counter. "You need to have your measurements taken for a suit you ordered. Pants and a jacket. Dress shirt you'll provide. Correct?"

I met his eyes. His lips thinned. I bit back a smirk. I always enjoyed putting people in their place and this man looked like he needed a kick.

"Yes," he hissed. I offered a sweet smile.

"Then I can take your measurements," I said, my customer service voice intact again.

"Are you even qualified?" he mocked, looking me up and down. He crossed his arms and my eyes snagged on how his jacket stretched across his shoulders. The suit must have been custom made with the way it molded and shifted with his body.

"The degree on the wall behind me begs to differ." I flicked a hand behind me. His eyes glanced from the wall to me. His lips twitched.

"You'll do…and sorry for the cursing that was uncalled for. It’s been an unsatisfactory day and it was wrong of me to take it out on you," he said, breezing by to the back of the store where the dressing rooms were. I rolled my eyes and dug behind the counter for my measuring tape. Well at least he had the decency to apologize.

He stood on the platform in the center and I couldn't help but marvel at him despite his attitude. As an artist I couldn’t deny his body made me want to grab my needle and thread. I felt the urge to wrap him in my designs. His tan skin glowed against his white crisp shirt. He would look amazing in royal blues, deep purples and rich reds.

I shook my head and started the routine. The sooner I got this done, the sooner he could leave and I could be alone again.

Shoulder to wrist. Chest to waist. Waistline-

“Are you sure that's how it's done because usually Diogo starts-" he began. I was measuring from his hip to foot when my eyes shot up to him.

"Excuse me but are you the one with the degree or the experience?" I didn't mean to sound snappy but he irritated me. It had barely been ten minutes and I was already over him.

"Well my bad Cinderella," he teased. I rolled my eyes and wrote down his next measurement. I placed the tape near his groin, about to take his inseam.

"That is a delicate area. You might want to leave a little room," he said. Our eyes connected again. He smirked and I glanced back at the measuring tape.

"Don't think you'll need much room with the measurement I just took," I muttered standing up. He dipped his head towards me and my heart flipped abnormally. His cologne engulfed me. Was this how all rich men smelled? Sandalwood and sage. It was clouding my thoughts.

I met his steady gaze bravely. He cocked his head slowly. I felt like a fly caught in a Venus fly trap. I couldn’t look away from him. He had flecks of blue and flares of green around his pupils. His fingers drummed on his side nearly mimicking my heart rate.

"What did you say?" His voice was deep, making my body tighten. My stomach twisted. What was wrong with me? I needed to stop antagonizing him. But he made it so easy with every word that came from his mouth and for some reason I found it enjoyable.

"Nothing," I said, moving away. Sitting in the chair in the corner to acquire space from this man. I copied the measurements I wrote down into my laptop. "Just a few questions," I said, hoping to keep the conversation under my control. I didn’t want to say anything more that could lead to a bad review. He nodded, unrolling his sleeves.

"Color?" I asked.

"Black," he said with an obvious tone.

"Like your soul?" I muttered. There goes a good review. He chuckled, shaking his head. Okay maybe a decent review.

"Do all of your customers get this kind of attitude?" he said, arching his brow. I smiled sweetly.

"I only give back what I receive," I said without thinking. Definitely a bad review.

Something about the way his steel eyes scrutinized me just made me want to poke the wolf beneath. My avô did always say my attitude was going to get me in trouble one day. Was today that day? He began walking towards me and I was beginning to regret my words.

"I can’t say it is not undeserving but tell me,” he started, standing in front of me. “Are you not aware of who I am,” he asked in slight disbelief.

"Nope and I really don't care. Do you want the inside of the jacket to be plain black?" I continued. He thought about it for a moment.

"I'm okay with a pattern as long as it's dark."

I nodded. I began mumbling about cost and materials under my breath. Three long callous fingers disrupted my view of my laptop. I looked up, glaring.

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