Rules
1809 Words
Sienna’s POV
The first rule of job interviews, don’t look like you want to make out with the boss.
The second rule, definitely don’t call said boss “Batman” to his face.
And yet, here I was, sitting across from Gray Mancini, ( I'd read his name on the table), the human embodiment of dark temptation, breaking both rules spectacularly.
“Sit,” he had ordered, like I was a misbehaving cat.
And like an obedient fool that I was, I sat.
The leather chair was too soft, too expensive, and way too intimidating. My palms were sweating, my heartbeat was sprinting, and all I could think was, of course fate brought me here. Of course my ‘fresh start’ is working for the man who practically bled danger from his pores.
His gaze pinned me like I was under a microscope. “Your résume is… incomplete.”
I laughed nervously. “Well, you know how it is. I mean, I didn’t think ‘ruined my almost-wedding’ was an employable skill.”
His expression didn’t change. Not even a twitch. God, was this man carved from stone? This man seemed allergic to humor.
“You left out your work as a hacker.”
My blood ran cold. “Excuse me?”
Gray leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. Calm. Calculated. “In college. Cutting into firewalls, selling access codes. You made enough to survive until your father put you back on. Am I wrong?”
Panic clawed at me. How the hell did he know that? That part of my life was buried so deep I barely admitted it to myself.
I forced a smile. “Wow. And here I thought background checks were boring. Did you hire the FBI?”
“Something like that.”
His tone was smooth, but those eyes were pins. He wasn’t asking me, he was stating. Which meant he already knew everything.
I cleared my throat. “Look, I don’t do that anymore. It was a survival phase. Some girls bartend. Some sell feet pics. I hacked. It’s not exactly my career goal.”
“Good.” He leaned forward, the intensity in his stare making my spine stiffen. “Because now it will be mine.”
I blinked. “Yours?”
“I need a hacker.” His voice was all steel. “And you’re the best I have found, Crane.”
Oh my God! That was my work name back in the days. There was no face attached to the name, reason he didn't know I was the girl he met at the club.
My mouth fell open. “I what? No. Absolutely not. I don’t do that anymore.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You don’t want the money?”
“Not really” A total lie.
“I will pay you a million US dollars ”He named a figure.
My jaw dropped so fast I almost cracked my chin on the table. That was more than my father had ever given me in my entire life.
I swallowed hard. “Okay, that’s a lot. But still no. I left that life behind.”
Gray studied me, silently.
The air thickened until I thought I might choke on it. Then, finally, he spoke.“Three days.”
I frowned. “Three days for what?”
“You’ll stay in my house,” he stated. “Think about it. At the end of three days, if you don’t want the job, you walk away.”
I laughed, half-hysterical. “You make it sound so reasonable. Stay in your mansion for three days, surrounded by security guards, cameras, and your broodiness, while I try not to melt into a puddle on your imported rug? Sure. Totally normal job interview.”
His brow arched, just slightly. “Are you always this… talkative?”
“Only when I’m nervous,” I blurted. Then clamped my mouth shut.
His lips twitched. Barely. Was that almost a smile?
His “mansion” wasn’t a mansion. It was a fortress disguised as one.
High gates, stone walls, men in suits stationed everywhere. Inside, marble floors gleamed, chandeliers sparkled, and priceless art stared down at me like I was unworthy of breathing near it.
“This is…,” I muttered as I was led inside. “Do you also have a dungeon? A dragon in the basement?”
The guard escorting me didn’t laugh. Not even a little.
They showed me to a guest suite larger than my entire apartment back in LA. King-sized bed, walk-in closet, balcony overlooking Rome. I wandered around in awe, muttering to myself.
Day One was torture.
I tried to act normal, wandering the house, exploring. But everywhere I went, I felt him. Watching. Present. Even when he wasn’t in the room. It was torture. Absolute torture.
Dinner was… I don’t even know what it was. Fancy pasta? Some meat that probably had a French name? Whatever it was, it tasted like cardboard because I was too busy choking on silence.
Gray sat at the head of the long table, looking every inch the dark king, while I sat halfway down like the awkward charity case.
I tried small talk. “So… do you, like, binge Netflix? Or is glaring at people your main hobby?”
“Eat, Miss Cross.”
I stabbed my salad with unnecessary aggression. “Noted. Dinner table banter is off the menu.”
His gaze flicked to me, unreadable. My stupid heart did a flip anyway. Because apparently I had zero self-preservation instincts.
That night, I tossed in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying his voice in my head. Eat, Miss Cross. Why did that sound hotter than it had any right to?
Day two, I got bold. Or stupid.
I wandered into his study, pretending to admire the shelves full of books I couldn’t pronounce. In reality? I wanted to see if he’d follow.
He did.
I didn’t turn right away. I traced the spine of a book, mouthing the title like I had any clue what it meant. Principi della Guerra. Principles of War. Okay, maybe I got that one.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, voice low enough to send shivers skating down my spine.
I turned, smirking. “What, afraid I’ll hack into your Wi-Fi and rename it ‘GrayBroodsAlot’?”
His eyes narrowed. But then it switched again. “You think you’re funny?”
“I don’t think. I know.” I tilted my head, daring him. “You just haven’t admitted it yet.”
He stepped further into the room, the space shrinking with every measured stride.
“You are reckless,” he said.
“And you are bossy.”
Silence stretched thick. For one dizzy second, I thought he might actually smile.
His brow twitched, like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the right words. Instead he said, “You test limits.”
I shrugged. “Well, somebody has to. Otherwise you’ll spend the rest of your life glaring at people in silence. Honestly, you should thank me. I’m adding color to your grayscale existence.”
One corner of his mouth almost shifted. Then it was gone, replaced with that flat tone again. “Most people fear me.”
“Congratulations?” I leaned back against the shelf, folding my arms. “I’m not most people.”
By Day Three, I knew I was in trouble.
Because it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It wasn’t me being dazzled by danger.
Not the kind of trouble where you’ve lost your keys or forgotten to pay your credit card bill. No. The kind where you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, wind howling, and some part of you wants to jump just to see what happens.
I woke up in the oversized bed, sheets smelling faintly of him. Expensive cologne, leather, something distinct and the first thought in my head was Gray Mancini.
I wandered through the mansion that morning like a ghost. Everywhere I turned, he was there, even when he wasn’t. His presence lived in the silence, in the cameras tucked into corners, in the way guards stiffened whenever he passed.
At lunch, I caught sight of him in the courtyard, speaking to two men in suits. His posture was immaculate, his movements precise. Even just standing, he looked like the reckless storm he was.
I should have walked away. I should have turned back to my plate. Instead, I stared. And when his gaze flicked up and met mine, my heart plummeted straight to my toes.
I pretended to cough, then pretended to study a bread roll like it was a rare artifact. Real smooth.
By afternoon, I was restless. I found myself pacing my suite, muttering like a lunatic.
This is bad. This is so bad. He’s not your knight in shining armor, he’s a walking red flag in a tailored suit. Get out, Sienna. Pack up. Leave.
But instead of packing, I sat on the balcony, chin in my palm, staring out at Rome like a lovesick i***t.
That was when the truth hit me, hard and cruel. I wanted him.
Not just because he had saved me from Damian. Not because he was mysterious and terrifying and magnetic. But because beneath all that? He had protected me. He had looked at me like I mattered, even when he was trying not to. And I was starved for that.
I shoved the thought down, locking it in a mental box. By evening, I couldn’t take it anymore. I packed my bag.
I had to. Staying meant falling, and falling meant destruction.
I found him in the hall. “Thank you for the hospitality, but I’m leaving. The answer is no.”
His expression didn’t change. “So be it.”
I was dismissed. Just like that.
It should have been a relief. It wasn’t.
And just like that, I was dismissed. He didn’t even call me back.
I didn’t make it to two blocks when a van came out of nowhere, screeching to a halt beside me. Hands grabbed me, yanking me off the street. A cloth covered my mouth before I could scream.
When I woke, my wrists were bound, my head pounding. Voices echoed around me. Men were laughing and gloating.
“Boss is right,” one sneered. “He has never kept a woman before. If he is keeping this one, she must be special.”
"He’ll come for her,” another chuckled. “And when he does, we’ll see how indestructible Gray Mancini really is.”
My blood froze. Because in that moment, I realized two terrifying truths.
One: I was bait. And two: they were wrong. He wouldn’t come for me.
I think it was high time my father found me.
- Writer
