I let go of the handle. My hands felt empty without it.
"Follow me." Marco walked toward a different room than before. Enzo walked next to me.
I was trapped between them. Two tall men who looked at me like I was something they owned.
We entered what looked like a study. Nice desk, fancy chairs, books everywhere. There was a bar cart with expensive-looking bottles in the corner.
"Sit," Marco said, pointing at a chair.
I sat.
He walked behind his desk but didn't sit. Just stood there, looking down at me. Enzo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Watching.
"Your job starts now," Marco said. "Not tomorrow. Now."
My mouth went dry. "Okay."
"This is your final test. Pass it, and you have the job. Fail, and the car takes you to the airport. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He gestured to the bar cart. "Pour me a whiskey. Two fingers. No ice."
I stood up and walked to the cart. My hands were shaking as I picked up a glass. I had no idea which bottle was whiskey.
"The one on the left," Enzo said from behind me.
I nearly dropped the glass. I hadn't heard him move.
He was right behind me now. Close enough that I could feel the heat from his body.
"Pour it," he said quietly.
I picked up the bottle with shaking hands. Poured what I thought was two fingers. Some spilled on the cart.
"Messy," Enzo said quietly. His hand touched my lower back. "Do it again."
"I already poured it."
"I said try again." His hand pressed harder.
I poured the whiskey back into the bottle. I tried again. This time I didn't spill.
"Better." His hand stayed on my back as I carried the glass to Marco.
Marco took it without looking at me. "Now pour one for Enzo. Scotch. Three fingers. One ice cube."
I went back to the cart. Enzo moved with me, his hand never leaving my back.
I found the scotch. Poured three fingers. Reached for the ice.
"Wrong glass," Enzo said. His other hand came up and wrapped around my wrist. "That's for whiskey. Use the shorter one."
He guided my hand to a different glass. His body was pressed against my back now. I could barely breathe.
I poured the scotch into the right glass. Added one ice cube with shaking hands.
"Good girl." His breath was warm against my ear.
I brought him the glass. He took it but didn't step back. Just smiled that smile and took a sip.
"Acceptable," he said.
Marco sat down behind his desk. "Come here."
I walked over to him.
"You'll be taking notes. Every meeting, every call, every conversation I have that matters." He pulled out a leather notebook and a pen. "Write this down: Meeting with Castellano. Tuesday. 3 PM. Location TBD."
I took the notebook and pen. Wrote it down. My handwriting looked terrible because I was nervous.
Marco looked at what I wrote. "Again. Neater this time."
I crossed it out. Wrote it again neater.
"Better." He leaned back in his chair. "You'll learn fast or you're out. Simple as that."
"Yes, sir."
"Now." Marco gestured to a stack of folders on his desk. "Organize these alphabetically. You have five minutes."
I reached for the folders. There had to be at least twenty of them.
"Four minutes and fifty seconds," Marco said, checking his watch.
I started sorting. My hands were shaking so hard I kept dropping them. Behind me, I could hear Enzo moving around. I didn't dare look.
Halfway through, Enzo appeared beside me. He picked up one of the folders I'd already sorted and moved it.
"Wrong," he said. "This one goes first."
"But that's not alphabetical."
"Are you arguing with me?" His hand landed on my hip.
"No, I just."
"Fix it."
I fixed it, even though I knew I was right.
"Three minutes," Marco said.
I worked faster. Enzo stayed next to me, his hand moving from my hip to my lower back, then higher. His fingers traced along my spine through my blouse.
"Focus, Jolene," he murmured. "Don't let me distract you."
But he was. I kept losing track of which letter came next.
"Two minutes."
I was almost done. Just three more folders.
Enzo's hand slid around to my stomach. Pressed flat against it through the fabric.
"Keep working," he said softly.
I grabbed another folder. My hands are shaking worse now.
"One minute."
I put the last folder in place just as Marco said, "Time."
He stood up and walked around the desk. I looked at my work.
"Close," he said. "But not perfect. You put Jenkins before Jimenez."
I looked. He was right. I'd messed up one.
"I'm sorry, I."
"No excuses." Marco stepped closer. He was right in front of me now. Enzo was still behind me, his hand on my stomach. "In this job, being close isn't good enough. Perfect or nothing. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Say it again."
"Perfect or nothing."
"Good." Marco's eyes dropped to where Enzo's hand rested on my stomach. "Now let's see how well you follow instructions."
My heart started pounding harder.
"Enzo," Marco said, not looking away from me. "Let her go."
Enzo's hand disappeared. I could breathe again.
Marco walked back behind his desk and sat down. "There's one more thing you need to understand about this position, Jolene."
I waited.
"Your job is to assist me in every way I require. Professional tasks, personal tasks, whatever I need." He leaned forward. "That means when I tell you to do something, you do it. No hesitation. No questions. Complete obedience."
"I understand."
"Do you?" His eyes were cold. "Because I'm about to give you an order. And how you respond will determine whether you sleep here tonight or at the airport."
The room went silent except for my heartbeat.
Marco stood up slowly. Walked around his desk. Stopped right in front of me.
"Take off your blouse."
I stared at him. My brain stopped working.
Behind me, I heard Enzo shift. Waiting.
Marco's expression didn't change. "I gave you an order, Jolene. Are you going to follow it?"