"I have a job for you tonight."

Acting as if I just hadn't stormed out of his office fifteen minutes ago, he casually went through papers and motioned for me to take a seat on a leather chair in front of the desk in the office.

I no longer felt comfortable working here, no longer under Mr Capra senior's care, and was already planning on applying for other jobs as soon as possible.

I nodded once and sat down.

"What and where?" I replied politely, studying him carefully.

He was very well put together with a perfectly fitted suit, no tie and the top button left open for a more approachable feel. His impossibly dark brown hair was slicked back with care, and whenever his dark and intense eyes met mine, I felt as if it was needed to maintain a perfect posture and presence.

As much as he had clearly wanted to seem approachable, he wasn't. He was dangerous, all the men and women I worked with were, but so far he had been more rude than polite.

"Les Rois, 9 PM. You're meeting Winston Horan," he informed me after placing his papers down and concentrating his attention on me fully.

I instantly felt as if I was under a microscope and like I wanted to cover myself up completely under his intense gaze.

"Mr Capra was always persistent on the fact that I would never meet people like Mr Horan," I cleared my throat, standing my ground in hopes of showing him I was to be respected.

A small and smug smile pulled at the sides of his lips, but it was gone before I had a chance to properly register it.

"My father's no longer here, is he? Whatever he's said regarding what you're to do has no meaning. I'm the Don, I'm your boss, and now I'm also Mr Capra to you," he explained in a frighteningly calm way, "you'll meet with Mr Horan for dinner, and after he'll take you back to his. I need you to find out the basic floor-plan of his suite in the Ritz."

"Can I ask what it's for?" I gathered the courage to ask, yet keeping a collected and cold exterior.

He relaxed back in the black leather office chair he sat on, and continued to observe me carefully.

"Sure. You don't need to know the answer, though," he shrugged, and a part of me still wanted to slap him for being so infuriating, "also, I need you to find out the code to his safe. I take it you know how to do all that? Seduce your way in and so on..."

"Yes."

"Good."

We sat there for a moment in silence, both eyeing the other up. He was nothing like his father, that much I had gathered thus far. This man was too cocky, too dominant seeming, too rude...

Of course, to be Don of the most widespread and powerful organised crime syndicate, you needed to be all those things. Mr Capra senior knew how to gain respect by giving it, and had never treated me the way his son had now.

"Do you have sex with them?" He broke the silence by asking, and my lips parted in shock of the question.

"Excuse me?" I was about to stand up again, but the laugh leaving his lips suddenly made me feel like I was unable to move.

"I'm asking so I'll be able to judge the situation, whether you need help in there or something along those lines," he explained, amused at my expense, "do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Well, then? Do you have sex with them?" He pushed, brows raising at me.

I didn't feel comfortable discussing my tactics with Mr Capra, Jr. like I had been with his father. Then, I had felt safe and cared for. Now, I began to realise how great the special treatment I had received, had been.

"If necessary," I gritted out, hating how he was clearly enjoying this; the power he had over me and how it was getting on my last nerves.

Mr Capra's brows raised at me. He leaned back in the leather chair and intertwined his fingers in front of him, elbows resting on the armrests.

"You're basically a prostitute, then?"

I froze at what he said. My chest felt constrained, and I felt my throat clenching. I saw red. I wanted to slap him, to tell him to never say that to me again.

Instead, I got up and began walking out of his office.

"I'm not done with you, Sofia!" His voice called after me, but I ignored it and headed to the one place there weren't cameras in.

I locked myself in the last stall in the women's bathroom and cried.

At this point, I would just need to find a new job, and until then, work as I would have worked under Mr Capra Sr.'s leadership.

"You're not a prostitute anymore, Sof," I began whispering to myself, hoping to calm down the inkling of a panic attack I felt, "everything's okay..."

I stayed there for thirty minutes, before I left to go home.