Dark Romance | Mafia

Chapter Twenty-One

Stella's POV:

His eyes narrowed slightly, the kind of look that made my stomach twist into a knot.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"N..no, ev..everything's all right," I stammered, my words catching awkwardly.

As I neared the glass, uncertain thoughts clouded my mind, something inside me screamed not to touch it.

But I forced myself to ignore them and slowly wrapped my fingers around its slender length.

Guilt gnawed at me, but at the same time, duty kept calling. After gathering all the courage I had, I gripped the glass tightly and staggered toward Mr. Romano.

Each step felt like an eternity. My feet ached, my body heavy and unresponsive, almost as if my soul had abandoned it.

Nothing inside me was willing to move forward, yet I walked, hollow and mechanical, like a zombie.

Mr. Romano was busy with his breakfast, his gaze fixed ahead. My hands trembled as I set the glass on the table, and a little juice spilled over the rim. My nerves were all over the place.

He glanced at the mess, then lifted his eyes to meet mine. Oddly enough, he didn’t say a word.

His hand shot toward the glass, fingers wrapping tightly around it. My heart hammered against my ribs.

I froze...paralyzed, though still on my feet. Just as he lifted the glass to his lips, my comatose brain finally sparked to life.

I shoved his wrist hard enough to send the glass spinning through the air before it crashed against the marble floor, shattering into a thousand glittering pieces.

I stumbled forward, my leg hitting the table, and wore a perfect look of shock. Letting myself fall into his lap, I staged the scene as nothing more than an accident.

Mr. Romano’s hand shot to my waist, steadying me, while I gripped his shoulder for balance. His eyes locked onto mine, unblinking.

Those smoky orbs studied me in silence.
His gaze drifted from my eyes to my lips, then up to my forehead, taking in every inch of me.

We sat frozen for a few seconds. My eyes traced every line of his sculpted features. Slowly, his face drew closer.

As he drew nearer, I closed my eyes, feeling the intensity of the moment and the firm hold of his hands still wrapped around me. I could sense him take a slow, steady breath, his face hovered just an inch from mine, his warm breath grazing my skin and sending a tremor through me.

"Stick to the chair, not me, chef," he whispered, barely audible.

My eyes shot up instantly, mouth widening in disbelief. A devilish smirk spread across his face. For the first time, his blank expression had changed though just to mock me.

Hurriedly, I shot to my feet.

"It was j...just an ac...accident," I stammered.

He threw the tablecloth on the table and rose, towering over me.

"Try aiming for a chair next time."

A smirk plastered on his face. My mouth hung open in shock. His broad shoulders brushed against mine as he strode upstairs.

I was still trying to comprehend the words he had spat out a minute ago, and he actually believed I went through all that just to woo him.

Unbelievable.

"Well, newsflash, mister, the world doesn't revolve around you," I mumbled.

............

At 8:45 AM, I burst into the café, gasping for breath. The roads had been insanely crowded today, making me run late.

Stepping inside, my eyes quickly scanned the area. Despite the flooded streets, only two customers were visible in the coffee shop and Sam and Scar.

Scar was busy, moving as if she were preparing food for the entire country.

"Huh, all this hustle just for two customers," I mumbled.

Made my way straight to the kitchen counter. Scar kept avoiding both me and Sam.

"Scar, listen," I advanced toward her, but she stepped away, moving to the next counter.

"At least we deserve a chance to explain," I urged.

"Did I say I need an explanation?" she replied, without bothering to meet my gaze, brewing the coffee with practiced ease.

"Scar, we did this not because we're bad people, but because we were helpless inside. I was just a kid when my father handed me over to them. I couldn’t do anything back then, and now…I have no other choice," my voice breaking.

She didn't utter a word, purely focused on her work. At least her ears were working.

"Please Scar don't be stubborn, try to understand. That wasn't my mistake, I was completely helpless." I continued.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and Sam placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Scar glanced at me for a mere second before quickly averting her gaze.

Then, unexpectedly, she looked back and rushed toward me, embracing me in a comforting hug.

"I understand," she consoled me.

"Hope you understand me too," Sam grinned.

Scar rolled her eyes, making me smile at her usual expression.

"I already explained my reason to you before Stella arrived. You can’t claim you didn’t listen. Although you were just pretending to be a silent, cunning fox," Sam said cheekily.

"Yeah, I heard you, 'a true saint among us', aren’t you?" Scar mocked, and Sam tossed a tissue box at her. She caught it just before it hit her face.

A collective laugh escaped us.

Until then....