Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 56: Chapter 56

*Cough*

*Cough*

Grandpa James started coughing. Harsh and deep, rattling in his chest like something was stuck inside that could not come out. His face turned red, the color rising from his neck to his cheeks. His hand flew to his mouth, thin fingers pressing against his lips.

Daisy’s eyes widened. Her heart lurched. She shot up from her chair so fast that it scraped against the floor, the sound sharp and sudden in the quiet room.

Water. He needed water.

She knew there was a glass on the low table near the sitting area, the one by the window, the one Margaret kept filled for him throughout the day. She rushed toward it, her sandals slipping on the polished floor, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Alessio also stood up.

He walked toward the same table, his long legs covering the distance quickly, his eyes fixed on the coughing old man.

Daisy reached the glass first. Her fingers curled around the cool surface, gripping it tightly. She turned around quickly, ready to rush back to James, to press the glass into his shaking hands, to make him drink.

She did not see Alessio standing behind her.

Her shoulder brushed against his chest. The glass in her hand tilted sharply. Water sloshed over the rim, spilling toward his black suit, toward his white shirt, toward the dark fabric of his jacket.

Her breath caught. Her hands trembled. She tried to steady the glass, but her fingers were shaking too much, the water still moving, still spilling.

Alessio’s hand shot out.

His fingers wrapped around her arm firmly. He held her in place, keeping the glass from tipping further, keeping the water from soaking his clothes. A few drops landed on his sleeve, darkening the fabric but most of it stayed in the glass.

Daisy looked up at him.

His face was close..too close. She could see the faint lines around his eyes, the ones that appeared when he was tired or thinking. She could see the shadows under his lashes, dark against his pale skin. His green eyes were looking down at her.

She let out a breath she did not know she was holding.

Relief washed over her, warm and immediate. She had not spilled water on him. She had not ruined his suit. She had not made a fool of herself in front of him and Grandpa James.

Alessio’s hand was still on her arm. His fingers were warm, even through the fabric of her dress, even through the sleeve that covered her skin. He did not let go immediately. He just stood there, holding her, looking at her.

Daisy looked at his hand. His long fingers wrapped around her small arm. His thumb rested near the inside of her elbow, pressing gently against the fabric.

She looked at his face.

He was still watching her.

She pointed at the glass, then at Grandpa James who was still coughing, though softer now, his hand still pressed to his mouth. Then she made a small apologetic gesture with her free hand, her fingers curling near her chest.

I am sorry. I almost spilled. Thank you for catching me.

Alessio released her arm.

His fingers uncurled slowly, one by one, like he was letting go of something he did not want to release. His hand dropped to his side.

He stepped back.

Daisy walked quickly to Grandpa James and handed him the glass. The old man took it with trembling fingers and drank slowly, the water disappearing in small, careful sips. His coughing subsided, the red fading from his cheeks, his breathing evening out.

He patted Daisy’s hand and smiled weakly.

"Thank you, child," he whispered. His voice was rough, scraped raw by the coughing, but his eyes were warm.

Daisy squeezed his fingers and then turned back toward Alessio.

He was standing by the low table.

His back was partially turned to her, his profile sharp against the light from the window. He was looking down at his sleeve, at the wet spot where the water had landed. The fabric was dark, almost black, the dampness spreading in a small circle.

Then he looked at his hand.

The hand that had held her arm.

He flexed his fingers once, slowly, like he was testing them, like he was feeling something she could not see. His knuckles cracked softly. His palm faced the ceiling for a moment, empty and open.

Then he curled his fingers into a fist.

James noticed shadows under Daisy eyes. She looked thin and weak.

"Daisy," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

Daisy looked up from her hands. She did not want to lie to him. She already had told him so many lies. If she added even more smaller lies, she would become a liar.

She shook her head.

James’s face changed. Disappointment and concern, with a little bit of anger, appeared on his face.

"Daisy," he said again, slower this time, like he was giving her a chance to correct herself. "You should eat on time. You are young. Your body needs fuel. Do you know what happens if you do not eat properly?"

Daisy looked down at her lap.

"Your hair will fall. Your bones will become weak. You will not have energy. And later, when you are old like me, you will regret every meal you skipped."

He paused.

"Even for a diet, you eat. You do not starve yourself. You are already thin. Actually, too thin."

Daisy nodded. She wanted to tell him that she was not on a diet. She wanted to tell him that her mother-in-law had taken all the food from the house. She wanted to tell him that she had eaten grass yesterday, from the garden, washed in her sink, because there was nothing else.

But she could not. She could not make him worry. He was old and sick and his heart was fragile. She would not add her problems to his.

James studied her face. He saw something there, something she was trying to hide but he did not push. He just sighed.

"Child," he said, turning to Alessio. "Can you take her to eat breakfast? Help her order something. Something healthy. Not junk."