𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Chapter 2

"Boss, we have a new one." the guy says, entering the room. I pondered whether I should follow him in.

With an annoyed expression, the man whose name I assume was Jake glared at me. , "Why are you just standing there? Get inside."

Upon entering the room I gasped. The interior was stunning, gold and black trim, curtains, elegant couches, a chandelier, and everything simply screamed expensive and rich. A pole in the corner of the room wasn't the only thing that caught my attention.

"Valentina," Jake addressed me grabbing my attention. "Yes," I replied looking up at him.

Did he just witness me drooling over a room? What's wrong with me? Then again, what's ever right with me?

"I will leave her to you boss, and trust me when I say she will do your club good," he smirked my way before leaving the room in a hurry.

What did he mean by that?

While looking away from the door I glanced toward someone sitting behind the elegant table, and instantly, I was faced with a Greek god.

He stared right into my eyes and my knees were weaker than they had ever been before. A man with dark hair, captivating blue eyes, and a body that looked as if it had been sculpted by God Himself. I can see the muscle definition ripping through his suit.

I need to calm down, he's my boss.

He didn't say a word and it scared the shit out of me. Why is he staring at me like that? I knew I should've just ran away the moment I stepped into this room. He probably thinks I'm a joke.

How come he hasn't said anything yet?

"Good evening, my name is Valentina Russo," I said, breaking the silence, trying to avoid his gaze.

That man doesn't need to talk to show off his dominance, his looks and deeds speak for themselves. And why did that turn me on? When I introduced myself, he stared at me with dark eyes. I'd better get my shit together fast.

I wonder if my pants will be able to withstand all the moisture if he keeps on staring me down like that, yet his face remains emotionless. Fuck. Stupid Valentina.

A little while later, he stood up, walked around his desk, leaning on it while crossing his arms, and gestured for me to come closer.

"Now strip,"

That's all he said.

Did I hear him correctly?

"What are you doing just standing there? Take off your clothes," he ordered. My mind seemed to go crazy. Did every waitress go through this? His voice also held a slight accent.

He's joking with me, right?

"I um-" I couldn't help but stutter, he couldn't be serious, could he? He stared at me for a long time before opening his mouth to speak. "You're not waiting for me to strip you down, are you?" He scoffed.

The thought of getting fully naked in front of him has me lost for words. I don't know what to do, I've never been in this kind of situation before.

"I am sorry, I didn't realize this was part of the interview," I replied, apologizing.

"You want to become a stripper at my club but you're not going to show me your experience? Pathetic, now get out of here," he said in a harsh tone, his dark eyes remaining on me.

Wh- a stripper?

"What no! I didn't come here to work as a stripper, I was supposed to take up the waitressing job" I explained.

It is hard to imagine that he actually thought I was a stripper.

I looked at his face which remained expressionless. Should I just get out of here? Leave the club and just go home because right now all I want to do is curl up in my blankets.

After a long silence, he took his phone out of his pocket and held it to his ear.

"Idi syuda seychas, ty v der'me," he spoke angrily. I found the language foreign to me, as he continued to speak I took notice of the decorative items around the room. His office was very clean and organized unlike Jake's.

[ Translation: Come here now, you're in deep shit. ]