Page 2 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

As I took in my surroundings, I moved closer to observe the scene. The male models ran by and formed a line in front of the woman.

My eyes locked on a petite powerhouse standing about five-six, her mocha-toned face flushed with determination. Her almond-shaped eyes sparked with irritation, and her plump, pink-colored lips pressed into a firm line. Even annoyed, she was beautiful.

“Why are you guys wearing shirts?” she demanded, gesturing dramatically. “Off. Now.”

The male models scrambled to obey, pulling off their shirts as her fiery brown gaze swept over the group—until it landed on me.

“You too,” she barked, pointing at me.

Shit.

Without thinking, I began unbuttoning my powder-blue suit jacket. Why the hell was I doing this?

She stepped closer, her head tilted in challenge. “Need help?”

“No,” I said curtly, my fingers moving quickly to unfasten my shirt buttons.

For a moment, her tough exterior faltered. She bit the corner of her lip, and her eyes lingered on my hands.

“This is a Claire Ainsley audition,” she announced to the group, snapping back to business. “I only hire the best to model my garments.”

I wasn’t sure if her sister, Hope, knew that Claire no longer went by their family name, Manning. She had adopted a new last name, likely believing it would give her an edge in the competitive world of fashion.

I didn’t like the other guys undressing for her. Her gaze however was still on me.

Once I’d shrugged out of my jacket and shirt, I stood alongside the other guys.

At six-four, I towered over the others, who ranged from five-nine to six-one. And with my muscular tattooed chest and abs, they looked like tiny Ken dolls in comparison.

She scrutinized their physiques before turning back to me.

Her gaze swept over my chest. “How often do you tan?”

“I don’t. I’m Italian—this is natural,” I replied, my voice low and steady.

The others murmured amongst themselves about my skin tone, but I didn’t care. Her attention was locked on me.

“Nice,” she muttered under her breath, her lips twitching into a faint, almost sinister smile.

“Oh, how could I forget?” she teased. “This is for an underwear shoot. Pants off.”

Two other women stood next to her, patiently waiting as the men removed their pants.

“Why aren’t you undressing?” she asked, stepping closer again.

“You’ve got enough guys for this shoot,” I replied coolly.

“I know it’s chilly in here. If you’re worried about filling out your underwear...”

A hearty laugh escaped my lips. “That’s the least of my concerns.”

“Then strip, like the rest of them,” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest.

It was already difficult enough to control myself around her; now she wanted me to show off my semi-erect state. “As I said, you have plenty of models already.”

“You’re here to audition. Don’t disappoint me...?”

“Vino,” I stated firmly. Still holding onto my tailored suit jacket and shirt, with a deliberate slowness, I unbuckled my belt and slid my tailored slacks down over my thighs, letting them pool around my expensive leather shoes.

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