The Don and His Mafia Princess

CHAPTER 8

The next day, I start my day late, thanks to relentless cramps that kept me up all night. Now, I'm running behind schedule for my meeting with Stefano. I hastily get ready and flag down a cab to Stefano’s office. Upon arrival, I realize I'm already five minutes late. Without wasting another Moment, I hurry to the meeting room. The atmosphere in the meeting room is thick with tension as I enter.

"I am so sorry I am late," I apologize, my words slicing through the silence as I make my way to the chair beside Stefano, but we are not alone. The architect and engineer working on the renovation are also present and ready to discuss the changes Stefano wants to implement.

"I am not surprised; please sit down; let’s start the meeting," Stefano says, his voice dripping with a dismissive coolness that sends a clear message of disapproval.

"Why are you not surprised?" I ask, taken aback by his brusque response, feeling a sting of resentment at his assumption.

"I am not surprised because you look like someone who doesn’t keep to time," he retorts, his words sharp and cutting.

"Excuse me, I am late to our second meeting, and automatically, I am someone who doesn’t keep to time. I have a valid reason for being late today," I say, my voice rising slightly, anger simmering just below the surface. My period cramps are not something I wish to discuss in this room, but his blatant disregard for any possible legitimate reason for my delay fuels my anger.

"I don’t care what your reason is; either you are late or on time. Now, sit your ass down so that we can start the meeting," he commands, his voice raising in frustration, echoing the hostility that has taken root in the room.

"Just because you don’t know why I am late doesn’t mean my reason is not valid," I counter, my frustration mounting.

"As I said, I do not care to know; sit f*****g ass down so that we can start," he grits out, his jaw clenched tightly.

I'm about to reply to him when I hear someone clear their throat, and suddenly, I remember that we're not alone in the room. I glance around and realize all eyes are on us, witnesses to our confrontation. Reluctantly, I take my seat, not wanting to give the impression that I am yielding to his command but recognizing the need to proceed with the meeting. The embarrassment of being reprimanded in front of my colleagues burns within me, but I resolve to address it later. For now, the meeting must go on.

An hour later, the meeting draws to a close, and I rise from my seat, eager to stretch my legs after the lengthy discussion. But before I can fully straighten up, Stefano's hand lands firmly on my shoulder, pushing me back down into my chair. I shoot him a puzzled glance, my brow furrowing in confusion. Why on earth would he do that?

I attempt to stand once more, but his grip tightens, preventing me from moving. Frustration bubbles up within me, but before I can voice my protest, he silences me with a gesture, his finger pressed against his lips as he pulls out his phone, diving into a conversation with someone on the other end.

"I will send you a picture. Get me something similar immediately, and the other items I add in the text," he commands, then abruptly ends the call. Without warning, he snaps a picture of my skirt and sends it off.

"Why did you do that?" I press, my voice tinged with annoyance as I shoot him a puzzled look.

"What’s your size?" he asks, bypassing my question entirely.

"Medium," I reply, still trying to piece together his actions.

Finally, he looks up from his phone, meeting my gaze with an unreadable expression. "She will bring it up shortly," he informs me, his tone cryptic.

"But for now, Get up," he commands abruptly. I lift a questioning brow, silently urging him to explain himself.

"Just get up, Andrea," he insists, his voice carrying a hint of impatience. With a resigned sigh, I comply, pushing back my chair and rising to my feet. Stefano could be so difficult at times. Why won’t he just tell me what’s going on?

In a swift motion, he removes his suit jacket. I'm caught off guard when he steps in close, his presence suddenly looming over me. My breath catches in my throat as his proximity overwhelms me, his cologne enveloping me in its familiar scent. I swallow hard, feeling a rush of nervous energy coursing through me. Then, with gentle precision, he wraps the jacket around my waist. It's then that I realize what's going on. Panic sets in as I realize I must have stained myself.

"s**t," I mutter under my breath, my heart sinking at the realization of what would have happened if Stefano didn’t see it and someone else did.

"Let's go," Stefano says, his hand wrapping around mine as he leads the way out of the meeting room and toward his office. Despite my earlier confusion and frustration, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Stefano's actions are always so unpredictable—just when I think I have him figured out, he surprises me with gestures like this.

As we walk side by side, his hand warm in mine, I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. Despite his often gruff demeanor and apparent disdain for me, there's something undeniably alluring about Stefano. His complexity, his contradictions—it's like trying to solve a puzzle with pieces that never quite fit together, and yet, I find myself drawn to him more and more with each passing day.

It's frustratingly confusing, but at the same time, it's exhilarating. And as we make our way to his office, I can't shake the feeling that there's so much more to Stefano than meets the eye. And I'm determined to uncover every hidden layer.