Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 47: Chapter 47 Mateo

It was the middle of the night. The moon was high, casting pale silver light through the tall windows of the Ricci mansion. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once, then fell quiet, leaving the world in silence.

Alessio sat on the couch in the living room. His legs were crossed and his arms were folded over his chest, and his dark green eyes were fixed on the wall opposite him, but he was not seeing the wall. His expression showed a hint of anger, cold and quiet, like ice forming on a lake in winter.

The lighting in the room was dark and dim. Only one lamp was on, a small thing in the corner, casting just enough light to paint the edges of the furniture in soft gold while the rest of the room was swallowed by shadows.

He heard the front door creak open.

Slow and careful, like someone was trying very hard to be quiet but had forgotten that doors made noise no matter how slowly you opened them. Alessio’s eyes shifted toward the sound. He did not move, nor did he call out.

He heard sneakers squeak against the floor. He heard someone shushing themselves. He heard a whispered curse, followed by a soft thud.

"Ow. My shin. Who left that there?"

Alessio’s brows rose coldly.

A familiar bright voice floated through the darkness, trying very hard to be stealthy and failing miserably with every step.

"Made it. Safe and sound. Big bro is probably asleep. Rafael is definitely asleep. I am a ninja. A ghost. A shadow in the night. Lalalala."

Alessio’s cold smile appeared, thin and unamused.

Then a young man walked into the dim light.

He was eighteen years old, tall and lean, with long limbs that seemed to have grown faster than he could keep up with. His hair was dark and spiky, a messy explosion of untamed locks that looked like he had run his hands through them one too many times, like he had just rolled out of bed or out of a moving car. His eyes were light green, almost golden in the dim light, bright and mischievous and full of trouble.

His face was delicate, with sharp cheekbones and a straight nose and lips that seemed permanently curved into a smirk, like he knew something you did not and was not going to tell you.

He was wearing a wrinkled hoodie with some cartoon character on the front, the fabric faded from too many washes, the sleeves too long and falling past his wrists. His sneakers were untied, the laces dragging on the floor. His hair had leaves in it, tiny green things stuck in the dark strands. There was a smudge of something that looked suspiciously like chocolate on his cheek.

Mateo.

He had been gone for five days, and now he was back. Sneaking in at two in the morning, looking like he had been wrestling wolves in the woods and lost.

Mateo took another step, then another. He was heading for the staircase, his eyes fixed on the stairs, his whole body focused on reaching his room without detection. He did not see Alessio sitting on the couch.

Mateo yawned loudly, not even trying to hide it anymore. He stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck.

"Made it," he whispered to himself, his voice smug. "No one saw me. I am tooooo goooood. Too smooth. Too sneaky. I should join the CIA or become a spy. No no, maybe a spy ninja. No no, a ninja spy. A—"

"Mateo."

Mateo froze.

His whole body went rigid, like someone had poured ice water down his back. His arms dropped to his sides, and his eyes slowly, very slowly, turned toward the couch.

Alessio sat there. Legs crossed. Arms folded. Green eyes cold as winter.

Mateo’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession. Confusion, then realization, then fear, then finally a desperate attempt at innocence that fooled absolutely no one.

"Bro," Mateo said. His voice cracked. "Bro. Big bro. My favorite brother. The sun to my moon. The peanut butter to my jelly."

Alessio said nothing.

Mateo laughed nervously, a high-pitched sound that echoed through the dark room. "You are awake. That is... unexpected. Most people sleep at this hour, but not you. You are different. Very special and unique. A night owl. A creature of the dark. A—"

Alessio raised one eyebrow.

Mateo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his untied sneakers squeaking on the floor. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, then at the window, anywhere but at Alessio.

"So," Mateo said, trying to sound casual, his voice too high, too fast. "Nice night. Very night-ish. Moon is out. Stars are starring. Very starry. Much stars. Very astronomy."

"You have leaves in your hair."

Mateo reached up and touched his head, his fingers patting down his messy hair. He pulled out a small leaf, then another, then a twig. He stared at them like they had personally betrayed him.

"Ah," he said. "Yes. That is... I was... connecting with nature. You know me. Love nature. Trees are my friends. Birds are my acquaintances. Squirrels are my—"

"You have been gone for five days."

Mateo’s smile faltered. "Five days? No. No way. It felt like a few hours. Maybe a day. Time is an illusion. A construct. Society tells us to follow clocks, but true free thinkers—"

"Mateo."

Mateo stopped talking.

Alessio uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his green eyes pinning his youngest brother in place like a butterfly to a board.

"Where were you?"

Mateo’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "School trip?"

"School ended two weeks ago."

"Summer school trip?"

"You failed three classes."

Mateo’s face fell. "Summer school recovery nature retreat?"

Alessio stared at him, his expression unchanging, his eyes cold.

Mateo looked at his sneakers. The untied laces. The scuffed toes. The small leaf still stuck to his sock.