Dark Romance | Mafia

Chapter Eleven

Stella's POV:

This morning, I went straight to his room.

The hallway was quiet....too quiet. My footsteps were barely audible against the floor as I crept toward his room, every creak and breath sounding like an alarm in my ears. I paused outside the door, listening. No sounds inside. Good.

I slipped in, gently shutting the door behind me. The air smelled faintly of his cologne....sharp and cold, but mesmerizing, like him. My hands trembled slightly as I began my search.

I started with the drawers, easing each one open slowly, careful not to make a sound. Just pens, papers, receipts… nothing useful. I checked under the bed, behind the curtains, inside the closet.

Still nothing.

Panic started to rise in my chest. I was ready to give up. My hand was on the doorknob when I saw something, just a glimpse of black tucked on the top shelf, almost hidden behind a stack of old books.

My heart skipped. I stepped on a small stool and reached for it. It was a file. Thick. Official-looking. My hands were sweating as I opened it.

His company documents.

They might be beneficial.

I took out my phone and quickly snapped a few pictures, making sure every page was visible. Then I put it back exactly where I found it, checked the room one last time, and hurried out.

I made it back to the kitchen.

Damn. I was late.

I hadn’t even started the breakfast. My fingers worked fast—eggs, toast, coffee.

At least he was having a normal breakfast today.

And then....

Footsteps echoed.

Heavy, deliberate.

My stomach twisted into a knot. I froze, hands trembling slightly as I stood motionless in the kitchen. I didn’t dare turn around.

The rhythm of the steps was slow but steady....each one hammering against my nerves, closing in like a countdown I couldn’t stop.

I could feel his presence before he even spoke.

"It’s already eight and you’re late," came his voice....calm, but edged with disappointment and authority.

"I… I’m so sorry, sir," my voice barely above a whisper.

"There’s no need to make breakfast anymore. You’re fired," his voice was cold as ice.

He didn’t wait for a response. I heard him turn, his footsteps retreating with the same sharp certainty they arrived with.

My breath hitched.

Fired?

I stood there, rooted to the spot, My vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes.

What was I supposed to do now?

I gathered the last of my courage and tried my luck.

"S..Sir, please…." I stammered.

He halted mid-step. Slowly, he turned to face me.

For a fleeting moment, something shifted in his eyes....astonishment, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Sir, please….I need this job. I promise I won’t disappoint you again."

He paused, eyes locking with mine briefly. There was no softness in his gaze, cold, as always. After a heartbeat of silence, he gave a small nod.

"Stay," he said curtly, then turned and walked away without another word.

Relief rushed through me like a wave, almost making my knees buckle. I swallowed hard and turned toward the counter, trying to steady my trembling hands as I prepared his breakfast.

He returned after bathing and changing into fresh clothes. I had just placed the food on the table. He walked over with slow, deliberate steps and pulled out a chair near the kitchen counter. Without a word, he sat down, his posture straight and unreadable.

He looked at the food first, then at me—sharp, assessing.

"Sorry, sir, I’ll be on time from now on," forcing my voice to stay calm.

He didn’t blink.

"No need to repeat yourself," voice as cold as ever.

I nodded quickly and turned to walk past him, eager to escape the weight of his gaze.

But destiny had something else in store.

Just as I stepped around the corner of the counter, my foot caught on the edge of the mat. The next thing I knew, I was falling....forward, fast, until I landed with a soft thud right onto his lap.

For a second, time stopped.

My heart skipped a beat. I was frozen. For a moment, I forgot how to breath.He was uncomfortably close.

When I  dared to look up, I found myself completely lost.

His features were so perfect they looked sculpted. That angular jawline, the smooth skin, the faint furrow in his brow... It was almost unfair how attractive he was. A literal Greek god in a perfectly tailored suit. Scar had been right—I was totally drooling over him.

When I dared to look up, I found myself caught in his gaze....those haunting, steel-grey eyes that seemed to command the soul, binding it in silent surrender for all eternity. They held the kind of magic that could make someone forget the world, lose themselves completely, and create an entire universe within their depths....a place to live forever, far from reality, untouched by chaos.

He cleared his throat.

I shot up, mortified. My cheeks burned with heat as I straightened my clothes and ran a shaky hand through my hair. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t dare.

I walked to the exit with quick, hurried steps....almost running. My heart slammed against my chest, but I held my head high, pretending as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn’t just fallen into his lap and embarrassed myself completely.

My cheeks were burning crimson, but I didn’t slow down. I just kept moving, silently praying he wouldn’t say a word.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t react at all.

And somehow, that made everything feel even more intense.

Until then.....