One Night Mistake… Now I Carry the Mafia Heir

Chapter 86: 86/Clear Hint

Chapter 86

Stephanie’s Point of View

Mr. Vincetti locked his piercing, deep blue eyes on me for a few fleeting seconds. In those terrible moments, it felt as though time had completely ground to a halt, and those transient glances lasted an entire eternity of torture and anticipation.

My heart raced inside my chest like relentless war drums, and for a moment, I thought he would expose me right then and there before the recruitment director, or utter some mocking phrase hinting at that horrific, shameful incident that had just transpired between us in the elevator. However, his stern, masculine features did not flinch, nor did they betray any suspicious expression. Instead, he advanced toward the desk with measured, steady, and immensely confident strides.

Leaning his tall frame slightly, he spoke in a deep, smooth, resonant voice, directing his initial words and full attention to Sophia: "Good evening, Sophia." Then, he shifted his gaze toward me, offering a calm, deadly poised nod: "Good evening, Mrs. Miller."

I cleared my throat with heavy agitation, trying to dispel the dry lump that had lodged in my throat and threatened to choke me. The coldness of the intense shame gradually receded from my limbs, replaced by a fierce, powerful desire to preserve what remained of my dignity and pride before this overwhelming man. Nodding in return, I forced my voice from my throat, pressing hard against my vocal cords so it would emerge balanced, steady, and free of any tremor: "Good evening to you as well, Mr. Vincetti... I am pleased to be here."

He moved smoothly and sat on the luxurious leather chair right next to mine, until I felt the aura of his powerful presence completely hem me in. He placed his large hand, its veins prominent and clear, on the edge of the wooden desk with deep gravity. Then, turning his entire body toward Sophia, he asked in a thoroughly professional, businesslike tone: "So, you were reviewing Mrs. Miller’s design portfolio before I came in? Tell me, what is your initial assessment and opinion of it?"

Sophia pulled the open leather portfolio from the desktop and brought it closer to him with utmost respect and deference. "In fact, Mr. Vincetti," she said in an enthusiastic tone she couldn’t hide, "the designs Stephanie presented today carry a uniquely creative flair, displaying a rare and highly attractive boldness in the cuts of the corsets and dark gothic dresses.

The lines are sharp, precise, and meticulously crafted. From my professional standpoint, I believe they align perfectly with the dark, mysterious, and alluring identity we are seeking to implement in our upcoming exclusive collection."

Mr. Vincetti took the portfolio from her, pulling it in front of him over the polished surface with a agonizing slowness that made my breath catch.

At that exact moment, I felt my entire body stiffen and harden like a block of wood. My fingers tensed aggressively as I gripped the edge of the wooden chair so hard my knuckles turned white. My unblinking eyes tracked his piercing blue ones as they moved between the drawings and lines with intense focus and absolute precision, scrutinizing every minute detail.

He turned the pages with a terrifying calm and absolute silence, his steadfast facial expressions offering no hint or clue as to what was brewing inside his clever mind, which only worsened the churning of my stomach and the frantic racing of my trapped breath.

He closed the portfolio with a quiet, silent snap that made a soft sound. Then, lacing his fingers together, he spoke with extreme gravity and a cryptic smile that failed to reach his eyes: "Your inspiration is very powerful and intriguing, Ms. Miller... your drawings carry a strange energy."

Then, he gradually shifted his piercing, cautionary gaze, letting it drop slowly toward the floor to rest directly upon my large black handbag sitting right by my feet. With a blatant yet subtle spark of mischief in his eyes that made me wish for death, he added: "I truly wonder... where did you draw all these bold ideas from? From where did this hidden inspiration spring?"

In that horrific moment, I felt an intense heat and blood rush violently to my cheeks, as if the entire room had burst into flames. I tensed completely; words vanished from my mind, leaving my tongue tied, while I felt my heart thumping with a dreadful force from the sheer, fatal embarrassment and mockery of the situation.

I dropped my gaze to the floor with lightning speed to escape facing his provocative eyes. "I drew it... I drew it from real emotions and experiences that I lived through during earlier periods of my life, Mr. Vincetti," I said, my low voice squeezed barely audibly from my throat.

A sarcastic smile curved his lips, and he murmured in a low, provocative undertone of sheer mockery: "Mmm... emotions? Really? Fascinating experiences and emotions."

Every single word that escaped his lips made my predicament worse and added fuel to the fire, as he cleverly and maliciously alluded to that cursed object that had slipped and rolled before his feet in the elevator, making me a laughingstock to him. Damn you and your ideas! Oh, Kyra, if you were standing before me at this accursed moment, I would slap you endlessly and scream in your face for this shameful predicament and the scandal you dragged me into without any fault of my own!

Mr. Vincetti continued his speech, reassuming his professional poise and customary gravity. Looking at me coldly, he said: "Based on what I’ve seen, we will place you under a harsh, grueling probationary period. You will join the design team as a novice intern initially, because your résumé is entirely devoid of any prior employment, and you know that we here at Vincetti do not typically hire those who lack extensive professional experience in this field."

I swallowed hard, attempting to regain my psychological balance and steadfastness. Straightening my posture, I lifted my head, speaking with firmness and defiance: "Certainly, Mr. Vincetti, I agree to your terms... I will be an intern, and I am fully prepared to learn and exert my absolute best efforts."

He nodded with cautious gravity, a slight hint of satisfaction appearing on his face. "Excellent... that is what I wanted to hear."

He placed the leather portfolio on the desktop with his large, powerful hand, then rose to his full, towering, and imposing height. Glancing at me one last time, he turned to the recruitment director and said in a commanding tone: "Mrs. Sophia will now explain to you the official working hours, the strict company policies, and everything you need to know before starting."

Mr. Vincetti walked with measured, dominant strides toward the door, casting one final, enigmatic nod over his shoulder before exiting the office.

I let out a long, burning exhale that I had been holding in my chest, feeling my relaxed body bask in temporary relief once the primary source of my hysterical tension had departed.

I turned toward Mrs. Sophia, who was observing the situation with a firm, businesslike gaze. She adjusted her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose and laced her fingers over the desk, speaking in a dry tone:

"Very well, Stephanie, as you heard from Mr. Vincetti himself... the rules here are strict and exceptions are made for no one. Your internship and probationary period will last for two full months. During this time, we will put you through a true test. Working at Vincetti does not always adhere to specific hours; we operate under constant pressure and fierce competition to finalize exclusive collections, and our work may sometimes extend into the late hours of the night."

My stomach tightened slightly upon hearing that, and I imagined how Cedric and Alex would react when I ran late. However, I brushed the thoughts from my mind and braced myself with absolute solidity as Sophia continued:

"Official working hours begin at exactly eight o’clock in the morning. Tardiness is forbidden, and any slack in delivering samples means the immediate end of your probationary period. I will be your direct supervisor, and I want to see how you will transform these dark, bold lines in your drawings into real, flawless pieces of fabric that suit the identity we are searching for. Are these conditions clear and acceptable to you?"