Page 3 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

Claire’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and the two women flanking her exchanged hushed gasps.

“The brand that I have in mind would look amazing on you,” Claire commented.

Without missing a beat, I pulled my shirt back on and shrugged into my jacket.

Finally, I slowly pulled my pants up over my muscular legs as Claire watched intently. “Is it appropriate for you to stare at me like that?”

“Oh please, men have been ogling female models for centuries. You guys can stand here while I assess.”

I huffed a laugh. “I’ll let you get back to work. This isn’t my scene.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing me. “You’re older than the others—what, twenty-eight?”

“Over thirty,” I corrected.

She arched a brow. “And yet you’re here, auditioning. Interesting.”

“Forget the audition,” I said as I finished buttoning my shirt. “Let me take you to lunch.”

Her warm brown eyes cooled slightly. “I don’t do lunch dates.”

“What’s your favorite food?” I pressed, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her.

“It depends on my mood. Today? An avocado salad from Anthony’s Bistro, up the street, sounds good.”

“Done. I’ll send it over.”

She tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “If you’re not going to agree to a private shoot, don’t bother.”

I exhaled slowly, then pointed at her. “Private.”

Her lips curved into a victorious smile. “It will be.”

As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but curse myself. What was I doing, agreeing to this? I was a mafia boss. Photos of me couldn’t be splashed across billboards. I’d have to make sure she understood that.

Still, I was already planning how to make that avocado salad delivery the most memorable lunch she’d ever had.

CHAPTER TWO

CLAIRE

The thirty-something model was undeniably gorgeous, the kind of man who could command attention without even trying. Normally, I kept my composure around models—I saw handsome men daily, and they rarely fazed me. But this one was different. There was a raw, untamed confidence about him, like he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. Well, except when it came to dropping his pants to reveal his big dick. The hesitation there was telling. And, let’s be honest, my assistants Porsha and Roleta wouldn’t stop gossiping about him for weeks.

Still, I couldn’t wrap my head around why a man like Vino would pass on a modeling gig just to take me out to lunch. Not that it mattered. What Vino didn’t know was that I’d sworn off men. Well, sort of. It wasn’t that I didn’t interact with them—I used them to make me feel good and moved on. My life was dedicated to my dream, and I wasn’t about to let anyone derail it. Being a successful fashion designer in New York City was all I’d ever wanted. Relationships? Marriage? Pumping out babies? No thanks.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried the boyfriend route before. Let’s just say those experiences ended… badly. Really badly. Since then, I’d chosen pleasure over commitment, control over chaos. And it worked for me.

My life had taken a turn for the better earlier this year when an unexpected opportunity fell into my lap. Up until January, I’d been scraping by with a little help from my dad, sister, and brother to cover rent and expenses. Then, out of the blue, I got a call from a company offering to fund my business. They claimed they were looking to invest in up-and-coming designers who had big ideas but no financial backing.

I couldn’t believe my luck. I knew plenty of talented designers struggling to make ends meet, so I wasn’t about to turn down this chance. Sure, I’d eventually pitch for them to support others, but first, I had to prove that their investment in me would pay off.

Thanks to their support, my entire life changed. They covered my rent for my design studio, all business expenses, and even materials. As if that weren’t enough, they moved me into a luxury condo just a short walk from my workspace. It was surreal—a dream come true.

It was an unbelievable opportunity - now I could afford to mingle with the elite designers and maybe even have my designs grace The Met Gala red carpet.

In February, the company hosted a masquerade ball that I was required to attend. After all, how could I say no when they were supporting my dreams? As soon as I arrived, they announced my name, and I felt like royalty. Despite everyone wearing masks, it wasn’t hard for people to figure out who I was, since all they had to do was search my name online. They wouldn’t find photos of me. Just my name and fashion designs.

As I strolled through the ballroom, decked out in glittering chandeliers and a live orchestra, I kept having to remind myself to close my mouth. The sheer grandeur of it all left me awestruck.

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