Page 3 of Mafia Rules

"Am I your friend?" he asks, his face lacking any expression.

"No, sorry. I don't know why I said that." I avoid his eyes and glance at the door, imagining running through it back to the safety of Macy's couch.

"Evelyn, I have a few positions I'm looking to fill. Passion impresses me more than qualifications. Impress me." He glances down at his watch, tapping the glass.

Impress you with my passion?While thoughts of your naked body ravage any brain activity I have?I stop my hands from pulling at the bottom of my skirt. I'm beaten down at the moment. I escaped from a terrible relationship. I'm dead-ass broke, and I'm sleeping on someone's couch. Now, I need to impress this gorgeous specimen of a human being with nonexistent skills.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have wasted your time,” I stutter and head to the door.

“Where are you going, Evelyn?” He’s quick to his feet, grabbing my arm where a bruise hides under this hideous jacket. I wince and hope he didn’t notice.

“I lied. I have no experience. I don’t know a dang thing about marketing. I’m broke and sleeping on my best friend's couch. I’m days away from calling my parents and proving them right. I’m not impressive.” I slink my arm from his grip and hide my face in shame.

“I beg to differ, Eve. It takes guts to give a fake resume and show up to the interview.” He stands between me and the door, grabbing my chin to lift my eyes to his.

“You knew it was fake?” I try to hide my surprise, but my face always betrays me—I’m a walking billboard.

“We aren’t very traditional around here.” His fingers linger on my face, then move to one of my purple curls. “I have a good feeling about you.” His eyes are somehow soft and intense at the same time. His scent is intoxicating and makes me dizzy. “Stay,” he murmurs close to my ear.

That tone…I obey and sit back in my seat. “Does that mean you're offering me the job?”

“No. Well, not the marketing one. You don’t know shit about marketing. I called the school you listed, as I was impressed.” He sits on the edge of his desk, the distance between us still close.

“Ughh.” My mouth hung open, but I had nothing to rebut; he knew I hadn’t gone there. “Why did you invite me for an interview, then?”

“I get feelings about people.” He pauses, the silence stretching out as he carefully chooses his words. "My brothers and I have a special project coming up, and we need a certain type of person."

“Like me?” My eyebrows scrunch down as my head tilts.What was he proposing?

“You’ll need to sign an NDA. And I want two weeks before I decide. You will need to impress my three brothers to be on this project.”

“My real resume won’t impress anyone.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Eve.” He kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his, and I imagine him asking me to marry him—what the heck?

“What?”

“That fucking putting yourself down shit. You’re a powerful woman. You have me on my knees, for Christ's sake.” He smiles, and his lips are perfect. I bite my bottom lip without realizing it. His brown eyes stare into mine, the corners crinkle. His brown hair is messy, with a slight hint of gray speckled throughout. My instinct is to run my hand through it, but I resist.

“I’ll impress them.”

“I know you will.” He gets to his feet.

“Ford is on line four,” the blonde interrupts from the door. Her face is flushed and eyes are on fire at the sight of Ashton and me being so close.

“Thank you.” He turns his head slightly but doesn’t make eye contact with her. She lingers at the door, arms crossed. “That’s all,” Ashton says, meeting her eyes finally, a hint of anger in his voice that she didn’t obey him.

“Is her job available?” I ask when she’s out of earshot.

“It is, if you want it to be.”

I lower my head and smile. He’s smooth. “What if I do?” I push back, testing him.

Picking up the phone, a mischievous smirk spreads across his face. Our eyes lock, his gaze mirroring my intensity. “Stella, yes, can you reach out to the temp agency? Veronica isn’t working out.” There’s a pause, and my face drops. He’s actually doing it. “Thank you. I’ll let her know.” He puts the phone down. “Done.”

“What? Why?” I’m even more confused. This man didn’t even know me, was possibly connected to the Mafia, and is putty in my hands?

“I have to chat with my brother. He doesn’t like to wait.” His face takes on a serious expression, and I can sense the weightbehind his words. “Be here at nine a.m. sharp. We have meetings tomorrow. I’ll send you some appropriate clothes tonight.” He picks up the phone. “Ford?”

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