Cinta Terlarang Sang Mafia

I stood there, my hands trembling slightly as I adjusted the edge of the tablecloth. The room was too quiet, and I could feel his eyes on me. My heart raced, and I told myself it was just my imagination. It had to be.

"You're shaking," his voice broke the silence. Deep and steady, it filled the space like a heavy presence I couldn’t escape.

I froze, my hand still resting on the cloth. “I’m not,” I lied quickly, though my voice betrayed me. I didn’t dare look at him.

"You are," he said again, this time softer, like he was enjoying my discomfort.

I swallowed hard. "I don’t know what you mean," I whispered, keeping my eyes fixed on the table.

Before I could take another breath, I felt his fingers gently lift my chin. My body stiffened, and I reluctantly met his gaze. His eyes... they were dark, intense, searching mine like he could see straight through me.

“Sophia,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue in a way that made my cheeks flush. "Why are you so nervous around me?"

"I’m not," I insisted, though my voice cracked.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You are,” he repeated, his thumb brushing lightly against my chin.

I took a shaky step back, breaking the contact. "You shouldn’t... you shouldn’t be doing this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?” he asked, taking a slow step forward.

“This,” I said, gesturing vaguely between us. “I’m just a maid. You shouldn’t be... looking at me like that or—”

"Looking at you like what?" he interrupted, his tone teasing now.

“Like... like that,” I stammered, my face burning. “You’re... you’re my boss. This is wrong.”

His smirk deepened, and he took another step toward me. “Wrong?” he repeated, his voice dropping lower. “Or is it that you don’t want to admit you feel it too?”

I shook my head quickly, panic rising in my chest. “No, I don’t feel anything. I mean, I can’t feel anything. This isn’t right. I’m just a maid.”

“Sophia,” he said firmly, his tone commanding now. “Stop hiding behind that excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s the truth.”

“You think I care about titles?” he asked, stepping even closer until I could feel the heat radiating from him. “Do you think that matters to me?”

“It should,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. “It matters to me.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. "Why? Why does it matter so much to you?"

“Because,” I said quickly, searching for the right words. “Because people like me... we don’t belong with people like you. You’re... you’re powerful, and I’m—”

“Beautiful,” he cut me off, his voice firm.

I froze, my words dying on my lips. “What?” I whispered.

“You’re beautiful, Sophia,” he said again, his tone softer this time. “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice it. You think being a maid defines you, but it doesn’t. Not to me.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. “But... you can’t mean that,” I said, my voice barely audible.

“I do,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve meant it for a long time.”

I shook my head, trying to back away, but my back hit the wall. “You’re just saying that,” I said, my voice shaking.

He leaned in slightly, his face inches from mine. “Do I look like the kind of man who says things he doesn’t mean?”

I didn’t know how to respond. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. His presence was overwhelming, and I felt like I was drowning in his gaze.

“I’m just a maid,” I said again, though the words felt hollow now.

“And I’m just a man,” he replied, his voice soft. “A man who wants you.”

I let out a shaky breath, my mind spinning. "This isn’t fair," I said quietly. "You’re not supposed to... to..."

“To what?” he asked gently.

“To make me feel this way,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The room felt heavy with unspoken words, with emotions I didn’t want to face.

Finally, I broke the silence. “I can’t do this,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t belong in your world.”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You belong wherever I say you belong,” he said softly. “And right now, I want you here. With me.”

My breath hitched, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Why me?” I asked, my voice breaking.

“Because you’re different,” he said simply. “Because when I look at you, I see something I’ve never seen in anyone else.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to run, to hide from the intensity of his words. But another part of me wanted to believe him, to let myself feel what I’d been trying so hard to deny.

“You’re scared,” he said softly, his hand still resting against my cheek.

I nodded slowly, unable to find the words.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he said. “But don’t let it stop you from living.”

I looked up at him, my eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But all I saw was sincerity, a depth of emotion that left me speechless.

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my skin. “I’m not going to force you,” he said. “But I’m not going to lie to you either. I want you, Sophia. And I think you want me too.”

My heart ached at his words, and I felt my resolve slipping. “This isn’t supposed to happen,” I whispered.

“Maybe not,” he said, his lips brushing against my temple. “But sometimes, the best things in life aren’t supposed to happen. They just do.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. For the first time, I felt myself letting go of the fear, the doubt. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was okay to let myself feel, to let myself want.

But before I could respond, the sound of a phone ringing shattered the moment. He pulled back slightly, his expression shifting.

“I have to take this,” he said, his tone serious.

I nodded, stepping back as he pulled his phone from his pocket. The tension in the room lingered, but the moment was gone.

As he answered the call, I watched him, my mind racing. I didn’t know what would happen next, but I knew one thing for sure: nothing would ever be the same.