Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 14: Chapter 14 Strange

Then Daisy emerged from the small kitchen.

She was holding a plate of beautifully cut fruits. Strawberries fanned into roses, their red petals glistening with moisture. Kiwi sliced into thin moons, green and bright. Grapes arranged in clusters, purple and round. Watermelon carved into tiny hearts, pink and delicate. The arrangement was almost too pretty to eat, a work of art made of fruit. She had clearly put effort into this.

Daisy looked up and saw Alessio.

Her breath caught, just slightly. For a moment, her heart gave a little skip. Grandpa James had made a friend. That was nice. Grandpa deserved friends. He deserved the whole world.

But this man was very good looking.

Daisy could not help but take two looks, maybe three. His dark green eyes were sharp and intense, sweeping over her face like he was reading a book written in a language only he understood. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. His lips were full but pressed into a line that suggested he did not smile often, maybe never.

He was tall, much taller than her, with broad shoulders that seemed to block out the light behind him. His hands caught her attention. Large, veined, and powerful. The kind of hands that could hurt you or hold you, depending on his mood.

She gave him a polite smile. Small and Careful. The kind of smile you give to strangers who might be dangerous.

Alessio looked at her, and something clicked into place.

He recognized her silhouette from last night. The girl on the balcony. The one gazing at the moon. He had not been able to see her face clearly in the darkness but he could make it out now.

The long caramel hair falling past her shoulders, soft and shiny, catching the morning light. The big dark eyes framed by thick, long eyelashes that cast tiny shadows on her cheeks. The fair, milky skin that looked soft enough to bruise.

She was really beautiful.

Daisy placed the fruit plate on the small table between James and Alessio. She gave Alessio a small nod as a greeting, since she could not say hello.

Alessio nodded back, just a slight dip of his chin, but his eyes did not leave her face.

Then James started talking again. He talked about his late wife and how she used to sing in the garden every morning. He talked about the hospital food, which he described as a crime against humanity. He talked about the nurses who were too busy and the ones who were kind. He talked about Margaret’s cookies, which he claimed were the only reason he had not escaped. He talked about the garden on the fourth floor that Daisy loved so much, where she sat for hours just looking at the flowers.

Alessio replied in a few words.

"Yes."

"No."

"I see."

"That must have been difficult."

Short sentences. Flat tone. But he was listening. His green eyes never left James’s face while the old man spoke. He nodded at the right moments. He asked the right questions. He was polite, in his own cold, distant way.

Daisy sat in her usual chair, her hands folded in her lap, her dark eyes moving between Grandpa James and the strange handsome man. Bored, she picked up her knitting needles and began to work on the yellow scarf. Click. Click. Click. The rhythm was soothing, familiar, a small comfort in an unfamiliar situation.

James talked for another twenty minutes. Margaret brought tea. Daisy served it, quiet and graceful, her movements efficient and precise. When she handed Alessio his cup, their fingers almost touched. His hand was large around the small cup, engulfing it completely. Her hand was small, delicate, with faint scars on her knuckles.

Alessio noticed the scars. He looked at her, his green eyes lingering on her hands. She felt his gaze on her, heavy and curious. She pursed her lips. It was just needle scars from knitting. Nothing interesting.

After a while, Alessio stood up. He nodded at James, a formal, almost businesslike gesture. "I will come again."

James beamed. "Please do! Daisy, say goodbye to our new friend."

Daisy looked up.

Her dark eyes met his green ones. For a moment, neither of them moved.

She smiled, a curve of her lips that did not quite reach her eyes but was somehow genuine anyway. Polite, Distant but not cold.

Then she looked down at her knitting.

Click. Click. Click.

Alessio left but as he walked back to his room, he couldn’t help but ponder about that woman. She seemed cold and distant. From what he had observed, she hadn’t spoken a single word to him. Not a greeting. Not a goodbye. Nothing. It was as if she hated his presence.

He frowned, replaying the visit in his head. She had smiled at him once briefly. But she hadn’t said anything. Not even a simple hello.

Strange, he thought. Very strange.