Mafia Don’s Little Silent Wife Chapter 04

Mafia Don’s Little Silent Wife Chapter 04

Time moved fast.

Two months passed in the blink of an eye.

The things I said around Bianca grew more unfiltered by the day.

During the daytime, it was fine.

The comments were mostly limited to compliments like how a dress looked nice on her.

Nights were a completely different story.

Especially the nights I came back after drinking.

One night around two in the morning, after dealing with the Costa business, Vincent helped me back to the estate.

I crashed onto the couch.

Bianca saw the living room lights on and came downstairs.

She wore a pure white nightgown with her hair down, holding a glass of warm honey water.

I took it from her fuzzily, took a sip, and looked at her.

When the alcohol hit my head, my filter completely dissolved.

“Little silent wife,” my voice was incredibly raspy. “Do you have any idea how dangerous you are, walking around like this?”

She stood there watching me, her fingers slightly tugging at the hem of her nightgown.

“Coming out in the middle of the night wearing so little.” I stared at her. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

She tilted her head.

That was her usual reaction when she saw my lips moving but didn’t catch the meaning.

The last thread of my restraint almost snapped.

“Come here.”

She didn’t move.

I reached out and pulled her closer.

She stumbled forward, nearly crashing into me.

I caught her by the waist.

She was incredibly soft.

My palm paused.

Her body tensed immediately, and I could feel the muscles along her waist tighten.

“Soft all over,” I murmured.

She didn’t push me away, nor did she react in any other way.

She just froze there. It felt like a bird forced to land in my hand.

I looked down at her for a long time before finally letting go.

No matter how reckless I was, I knew she wasn’t someone I could just handle carelessly.

“Forget it,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “You can’t hear me anyway.”

She stood there for about ten seconds.

Then she raised her hand and gently patted my back.

It felt like she was soothing a drunk child.

When I woke up the next morning, I was lying on the couch with a blanket over me.

On the coffee table sat a glass of water and two hangover pills.

Bianca was in the kitchen making breakfast.

I rubbed my temples as I walked over, leaning against the kitchen doorframe to watch her.

She caught my presence out of the corner of her eye, turned around, and mouthed two words: [Good morning.]

Something softened in my chest.

I couldn’t quite put a name to the feeling.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Fry another egg.”

From that day on, I learned a few signs.

Not many, just some simple ones.

[Eat.]

[Beautiful.]

[Come here.]

[Good night.]

Vincent smirked like a fox that had just stolen wine. “Don, you’re actually learning sign language?”

“Shut up,” I snapped, throwing the file in my hand at him. “If I don’t learn, how is she supposed to take my orders?”

Vincent let out a long, knowing hum.

His expression was so smug I wanted to punch him.

The first time Bianca saw me clumsily trying to use sign language, she froze.

Then she lowered her head.

Her shoulders shook slightly.

She was laughing.

I was certain she was laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

She lifted her head, her face already back to normal.

She made a sign.

I recognized that one. It meant amazing.

“Of course,” I said, tilting my chin up. “Is there anything your husband can’t learn?”

She lowered her head again, and her shoulders shook once more.