Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 3: Chapter 3 Boring

Next day

Daisy woke up before sunrise. She couldn’t sleep anyway. The sounds from next door had continued until 2 AM, and after that, she had just stared at the ceiling, counting cracks, thinking about Grandpa.

She got ready slowly and carefully.

Cedric had brought her five sets of new clothes specially for visits like these. Five dresses, each in its own bag, delivered by a servant who didn’t look at her. She had almost cried when she saw them, such beautiful dresses in soft colors and flowing fabrics. She liked pretty things. Flowers. Dresses. Anything soft and lovely.

She chose the white dress. Simple and clean. It fell just below her knees, with short sleeves and a small bow at the collar. She brushed her caramel hair until it shone, pinned it back with a silver clip, and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her mother would have smiled.

Daisy hoped Grandpa would do the same.

When she went downstairs to the living room, the breakfast plates were already cleared. The servants were wiping counters. No one had saved her anything. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it.

Then she saw Cedric.

He was standing by the window, talking on his phone in a low voice. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark pants that fit him perfectly, and leather shoes that gleamed under the morning light. His dark hair was styled back. The morning sun caught the edge of his jaw.

Daisy forgot to breathe.

She always forgot to breathe around him. Her lungs would simply stop working, as if they had decided that looking at him was more important than air. She became dazed just watching him. He seemed in a good mood today, and something in her chest loosened, like it always did, like a leaf caught in a wind it couldn’t resist.

Cedric ended his call and glanced at her. His blue eyes swept over her white dress, her brushed hair, her hopeful face.

He gestured toward the door. "Ready."

Daisy nodded.

❀┈┈┈┈❀

He drove her himself.

She sat in the passenger seat, clutching a small bag. She felt light. The corners of her mouth kept turning up no matter how many times she tried to press them down. Hope was blooming again in her chest, that stubborn thing that refused to die no matter how many times it had been stepped on.

Cedric glanced at her once, then twice, then faced the road and drove.

It would be a lie if he said he hadn’t noticed her. He had noticed her the first night she arrived at his mansion, trembling in his foyer with her single suitcase. Her big dark eyes had looked up at him like he was a savior. Her face was beautiful and breathtaking, the kind of beauty that made men turn their heads on the street, the kind of beauty that made other women jealous.

Her face had stopped him mid-stride. He had stood there for a full three seconds, which for him was an eternity. No one could ignore her when she walked into a room.

It was a pity she was mute.

And boring.

She never had anything interesting to say, not that she could say anything at all. She just smiled and nodded and looked at him with those big hopeful eyes like a puppy waiting for scraps. That reduced her appeal by half. At least.

The blue Mercedes hummed down the highway. The temperature outside climbed higher and higher. By the time Cedric parked the car at the hospital, the sun was blazing, and the air felt thick enough to drink.

Upon exiting, they were met by a wave of intense heat. Diamond City was experiencing its highest temperatures of the summer, making conditions unbearable.

Cedric’s forehead beaded with sweat within seconds.

He hated heat. Couldn’t stand it. His body was built for cold weather, for air-conditioned rooms, for winter nights by the fireplace. The moment temperatures rose, his shirt stuck to his back, and his jaw tightened.

Seeing him like this, his face flushed and his collar damp, Daisy’s heart ached.

She reached into her small bag and pulled out the yellow handkerchief with tulips embroidered on it. She held it out to him.

Cedric looked at the handkerchief, then at her, then back at the handkerchief. He took it. He wiped his forehead, his cheeks, and the back of his neck.

Then his eyes widened.

The fabric was cool against his skin. Not just cool, soothing. Like someone had captured morning mist and folded it into cloth. The sweat stopped. The heat on his face faded.

"Wow," he said, staring at the handkerchief. "How does it cool my face so much?"

He looked like a child discovering something novel. His blue eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly open.

Daisy smiled. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and her cheeks flushed. She pointed at the handkerchief, then mimed soaking something in water, then pointed at the sun and made a drying motion with her hands. Then she pointed at her mother’s old photograph tucked inside her bag, the one she carried everywhere.

Cedric watched her hands. They moved like birds, quick and precise. "Your mother’s recipe?" he guessed.

Daisy nodded eagerly. Her smile grew. She then pointed at the tulips she had embroidered on the corner, then at her mother’s photograph again, then pressed her hand to her heart.

Cedric said slowly, "Your mother’s favorite flower. Tulips."

Daisy nodded again. Her eyes shone.

Cedric looked at the handkerchief for a long moment, then at her, at her flushed cheeks, her hopeful eyes, her small hands still raised as if offering him something more than cloth.

"Hmm," he said.

He folded the handkerchief carefully and tucked it into his pocket. Then he walked toward the hospital entrance without waiting for her.

Daisy followed him into the cool hospital.