Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Daisy thought about going inside, into the crowd of strangers, all alone, without an invitation and without a companion. The thought made her chest feel tight, her hands turn cold, and her stomach churn like she had swallowed something bad. She could not do it, could not walk into that room full of strangers by herself. Just thinking about it made her feel small and scared, like a child lost in a crowded market.

She would rather go home.

So she started walking toward the curb, her phone in her hand, her eyes scanning for a taxi. Her heels clicked on the pavement, and her dress swished around her ankles while the golden light from the boutique spilled out behind her, casting her shadow long across the ground.

Then a black car pulled up beside her.

The windows were tinted so dark she could not see inside, but the car itself was a masterpiece of engineering, sleek and powerful and somehow menacing, its engine barely making a sound like a predator waiting to pounce from the shadows.

Daisy lowered her head and looked down at her phone. She did not want to attract attention. She just wanted to go home.

The car door opened.

A chauffeur stepped out, tall and serious with dark black eyes that held no warmth. His suit was impeccable, not a single wrinkle anywhere, and his posture was rigid like a soldier standing at attention. He walked around the car and opened the back door.

And then Alessio Ricci stepped out.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that looked custom made, the fabric hugging every line of his body like it had been sewn onto him while he stood still. The cloth was dark as midnight with subtle textures that caught the golden light and shifted like shadows moving across water. The jacket fit his broad shoulders perfectly, emphasizing their width and tapering down to a narrow waist.

His dark hair was combed back, severe and elegant, revealing the full sharpness of his face. His cheekbones were high, casting shadows across his cheeks, and his nose was straight and aristocratic. His lips were full but pressed into a thin, unreadable line.

And oh, his eyes. His dark green eyes were the color of deep forests and ancient emeralds, of ocean depths where sunlight never reached. They were cold and calculating and intense, the kind of eyes that seemed to look right through you, past your skin and bones, into the part of you that held your secrets.

He was tall, over six feet, with a muscular and powerful body that spoke of years of discipline rather than just time spent in a gym. His shoulders were broad enough to block out the light, and his hands, those large veined powerful hands, hung at his sides, relaxed.

Daisy was taken aback, her breath catching in her throat. She felt a little scared, not because he had done anything threatening but because of the powerful aura he was radiating, an energy that pressed against her like a physical thing, heavy and suffocating.

The light from the boutique spilled over him, catching the sharp planes of his face, the width of his shoulders, the length of his legs. He moved like a predator, smooth and controlled, every step flowing into the next.

He adjusted his cuffs, and the movement drew her eyes to his hands, those large veined hands. Then his dark green eyes swept across the entrance, scanning the crowd, the valets, and the lights, before finally they landed on her.

Daisy’s heart jumped.

She turned her head away. She needed to leave this place quickly, find a taxi, go home, take off this dress, and forget this whole stupid night ever happened.

"Wait."

His voice was low and deep and very pleasant to hear, like the first notes of a cello drifting through a quiet room.

Daisy froze.

She heard his footsteps behind her, then beside her, then suddenly close. He walked around to her side and stood in front of her, his dark green eyes focused on her eyes, not looking down at her dress or her body but directly at her eyes.

Daisy swallowed, her throat dry.

She lifted her hand and gave a small polite wave. Hi.

Then she tilted her head, raised her eyebrows, and moved her fingers in a small questioning gesture near her shoulder. Why did you call me?

Alessio’s gaze moved down for a moment, just a quick glance at her outfit, respectful and not lingering, before his eyes returned to hers.

"Are you also attending with your husband?" he asked.

Daisy hesitated. Her husband had walked through those golden doors with his hand on Jessica’s back, the man who had left her standing alone on the sidewalk like a forgotten coat. She did not know what to say. She could not say the truth. The truth was too heavy, too shameful.

She lifted her hand and gestured toward the entrance, making a small walking motion with her fingers, two fingers walking through the air, before pointing inside.

He is already inside.

Alessio’s eyes flashed with something, anger or pity, she could not tell. His face remained cold and unreadable. He had read the investigation report about her, of course he had, because he was Alessio Ricci and he knew everything about everyone who crossed his path.

"I didn’t bring a female companion," he said, his voice calm and casual, like he was asking if she wanted a glass of water. "Do you want to come with me?"

Daisy stared at him, her mind racing. If she went home like this, Jenna would scold her for wasting money on the dress and the makeup, for not being able to hold her husband’s attention for even one evening. She could already hear the words in her head.

She looked at the doors, and then she looked at Alessio with his dark green eyes and cold expressionless face. Then she looked at the doors again.

She nodded.

Alessio’s expression did not change. He simply lifted his arm and pointed at his bent elbow.

Daisy understood. She stepped closer and placed her hand on his arm.

His muscles were hard under the fabric of his suit, warm and solid like touching a wall that had been warmed by the sun. And he smelled good, not like cologne that shouted for attention but something subtle, woodsy and clean, a hint of pine and smoke and something else she could not name.

He led her toward the entrance.

The valets stepped aside, and the golden doors swung open. Alessio pulled out his invitation and handed it to the attendant, whose eyes widened when he read the name. His hands trembled slightly as he bowed his head.

"Right this way, Mr. Ricci."

They walked inside together.

Daisy’s dress flowed around her legs, the delicate lace on her neck catching the light of the chandeliers and sparkling like tiny stars. Her caramel hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, and her hand rested on Alessio’s arm, small and pale against his dark suit.