Page 2 of Mafia Rules

She’s his receptionist?I immediately dislike her and wonder how frequent these meetings with her are.

I stand up and pull down my skirt and jacket, gathering myself before having to be gathering myself before having to be up close and personal with him.

“Cute suit,” she says, brushing her golden locks back into place. She was maybe five years older than me, I’d guess.

“Thank you,” I mutter back and stand there staring at her, thinking I’m so the opposite to her. I'm awkward AF and not sexy in any way. I pull at the sleeves of my too-small jacket, hiding the bruises my ex had given me when I left him.

“Oh!” The blonde jumps up from her desk and approaches me with a lipstick in her hand. “Pout.” She purses her lips together, and I obey like a child. She swipes the lipstick across my lips. “There. It’s Raven Red. Goes perfect with your purple hair and fair complexion.” She stands back and gives herself a good nod for her effort.

“Thank you?” I’m gripping the papers too hard and notice I’ve crinkled them. I flatten them against my body, second-guessing this whole thing.

“Go on in.” She steps back and gives me the slight push that I need to go through the doorway of his office.

I stand there, unsure if I should walk in or wait till he tells me I can enter. He’s leaning over the desk, flipping through papers, unaware of my eyes devouring him. His white shirt and tie are neatly in place, his tattoos hidden from my prying eyes. His hands are large, and his fingers long. The room smells of their sex. I clear my throat, hoping to gain his attention as the awkwardness sets in.

“Yes.” He looks up briefly, then back to the mass of papers on this desk.

“I’m here for…” My voice breaks, and I sound like a mouse in a church.

“Speak up.” He stands tall and narrows his eyes at me before they lower over my body.

“I’m here for the interview.” I shift my shoulders back and stand tall. I wouldn’t let this gorgeous man intimidate me.

“Interview?” He tilts his head to the side, and his hand scratches the scruff on his chin.

“For marketing,” the blonde yells from her desk.

“Right.” He shakes his head. “You’re my morning appointment.”

“My resume.” I step closer and hold out the wrinkled papers for him to take, but he doesn’t move.

“I’d say sorry, but you’re early.” He checks his watch with a grin spreading across his face, then takes his seat and offers the seat in front of it to me, ignoring all of the desk's contents still strewn on the floor.

I could run out the door right now… or I could take his seat… like a good girl…

2

EVE

Isit down, yanking my too–short, tight pink skirt to reach as close to my knees as possible. With a relaxed posture, he reclines in his chair, his pen pressed against his lips, his eyes locked on my legs.

"My resume," I say again, this time with my voice stronger. I place it on his desk and push it as far as possible without getting up. He doesn't even spare a passing glance at it.

"Why do you want to work for me?" With an intense expression, he leans forward on the edge of his chair.

My eyes fall to the desk, and my cheeks flush, unable to correlate seeing him fucking the blonde and him asking me a serious question. "I think I will add value to your company." With a flicker of anxiety, I blurt out the line from the movie I just watched, secretly hoping he wouldn't make the connection.

His face is devoid of emotion, silently observing my every move. As the room falls into silence, the only sound that fills my ears is the steady rhythm of my deep breaths.

"Umm..." I reach for the papers I pushed forward, afraid I'd mix up what was written on them with whatever words came out of my mouth.

He grabs for them, fingers brushing against mine. I jump back from the shock of his touch. "Go on," he says, placing the papers in his desk drawer.

I swallow hard, blinded by images of his muscles at the front of my mind, how his weight would feel on top of me, me taking all of him, him calling me his good girl— “I have a keen interest in learning..." I clear my throat, regretting how that sounded. If he knew what I was thinking...

"I have fifty applicants wanting this job, Ms...?"

"Evelyn Stone, but my friends call me Eve." I fold my hands on my knees awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them.

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