Claimed By The Ruthless Mafia

Mia’s POV.

When I applied for the job and went in for the interview, I already knew it was Logan Mancini’s company. Fortunately, I was chosen among the applicants. I was desperate for employment, as my family relied on me for financial support. Recently, my father had been diagnosed with cancer, and we needed substantial funds for his treatment.

Despite being a fresh graduate without any prior experience, the Mancini group offered an excellent salary, which was a significant relief for me.

Today, I felt a wave of nervousness wash over me as I prepared to face Logan Mancini, my new boss. With a pounding heart, I mustered the courage to step into his office.

His initial demeanor startled me; it was rather rude. However, as soon as his gaze fell upon me, his expression changed, and his voice softened, carrying a gentler tone.

He rose from his seat with an air of surprise, making his way towards me. It was evident that my presence as his secretary caught him off guard. After all, I had been the one consistently ignoring his advances and attempts to connect.

“Mia?” he called my name, his tone filled with disbelief as he took in the sight before him.

“Yes, Mr. Mancini?” I replied hesitantly, unsure of how he would react.

“So, you… I mean, you’re my new secretary?” he asked, shaking his head and letting out a chuckle.

“Apologies if you were expecting someone else,” I quipped, unable to resist mocking him, though I couldn’t quite comprehend why I was playing along with him like this.

“No, this is even better than what I imagined,” he replied, grinning mischievously.

Curiosity piqued, I shifted gears, adopting a more professional demeanor. “So, what are your next instructions for me?” I inquired, emphasizing my commitment to working diligently and striving to build my career.

“Just go through my schedule and help me organize each and every meeting. Maria has caused enough trouble by messing them up,” Mr. Mancini instructed.

“Right away, Mr. Mancini,” I replied, swiftly turning on my heel and making my way towards the door.

“It’s Logan to you,” he corrected me, causing me to pause and face him.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“But you’re my boss,” I stated, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

He shook his head and sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“May I take your leave then?” I asked him, seeking permission to proceed. He simply nodded. Turning once again, I grasped the doorknob, opened the door, and made my way back to my desk.

Switching on the computer, I noticed some files already placed on my desk, likely created by his previous secretary. Logging into the system, I discovered that his schedules were in complete disarray.

I would have to work hard to get his meetings back on track.

“Okay, Mia, time to get started.” I encouraged myself, preparing to dive into the task at hand.

As the hours dragged on, the ever-growing pile of tasks on my desk seemed insurmountable. Glancing at my watch, I realized that the day had flown by, and it was already lunchtime. Yet, the sheer volume of work left me doubtful if I could accomplish everything in a single day. A weariness settled upon me, and I let out a heavy sigh, reluctantly accepting that I would have to sacrifice my lunch break to keep plowing through my responsibilities.

Lost in this overwhelming state of mind, the sharp ring of the landline on my desk startled me. I quickly answered the call, not wanting to keep anyone waiting. “Hello, this is Mia, Mr. Logan Mancini’s secretary,” I said with a touch of formality, my eyes still fixated on the computer screen.

A deep, masculine voice resonated through the receiver, causing my heart to skip a beat. It was Mr. Mancini himself. “Mia,” he said, and just his calling my name sent a shiver down my spine, “It’s lunch break, and yet you’re still working.”

I was taken aback, wondering how he knew my current situation. I glanced around the room, half-expecting to find hidden cameras or surveillance equipment.

“Mia, I have CCTV access to every corner of my office,” he revealed, the amusement evident in his voice. My boss had eyes on everything, and there was no escaping his scrutiny.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I replied, “Yes, Mr. Mancini, I’m trying my best to work on your schedules and complete them today.”

His tone turned serious, laced with authority. “You don’t need to work until you exhaust yourself, Mia. Taking care of yourself is as important as taking care of your work. You need to eat and replenish your energy to work more efficiently.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain that the workload was simply too much, but he cut me off.

“Mia, come to my office,” he ordered firmly, leaving me no room for negotiation. I knew better than to defy my boss’s commands, and so, with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, I gathered my things and made my way to Mr. Mancini’s office. What could he possibly want to discuss during my precious lunch break?

I saved the file on the computer, logged out, and grabbed a notepad and pen. With them in hand, I made my way towards Mr. Mancini’s office. Knocking on the door, I entered to find him leaning against his desk, hands tucked in his pockets, gazing towards the door as if he had been waiting for me. As I walked in, he straightened up and picked up his jacket.

“Let’s go,” he stated simply.

Caught off guard, I stammered, “Uh, where… I mean, do you have some meetings scheduled? I couldn’t find any in your calendar.”

His response was unexpectedly light, “No, we’re going for lunch.”

Confusion swirled in my mind as I tried to comprehend the situation. “But Mr. Mancini, I have so much work left on my desk. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to go to lunch with you. You’re my boss,” I protested, feeling a sense of duty towards my responsibilities.

His demeanor remained composed as he replied, “Why can’t I have lunch with my secretary? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

While his words may have sounded innocent, I couldn’t shake the uneasiness within me. I mustered the courage to voice my concerns, my skepticism evident in my tone. “Do you have lunch with every single secretary you’ve had?”

He paused, his voice taking on a low and deep tone as he responded, “No, but you’re an exception, Mia, and you’re well aware of that.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, leaving me feeling vulnerable and uncertain. I bit my lip, unable to contain my worries. “I don’t want people spreading gossip about us.”

He leaned in closer, the captivating scent of his cologne enveloping me as I felt his warmth despite him standing just a step away. His gaze bore into mine with intensity as he spoke firmly, “This is my company, Mia. Anyone who dares to gossip about their boss risks losing their job. And I’m the boss here-the one who sets the rules.”

“But Mr. Mancini…” I began to protest, but his proximity disrupted my train of thought. His cologne tantalized my senses, and his presence seemed to fill the space between us.

“Come on, Mia. Do I need to work hard to convince you every time?” he complained, his expression furrowed. I shook my head, unable to resist his persuasion.

“What would you like to eat, Mr. Mancini? Shall I make a reservation at your favorite restaurant?” I inquired, slipping back into my role as his secretary.

Drawing nearer, his voice dropped even lower. “As much as I desire to have you as my feast, I’ll settle for something Italian.”

My mouth fell open, my jaw dropping to the ground in utter disbelief.