Daddy |18+

Isabella: Fruit Salad

The early morning light barely filtered through the curtains as I quietly slipped out of bed. The clock read at 5:30 am, but I couldn't sleep any longer.

My stomach grumbled, reminding me of the craving that had been nagging at me since last night—fruit salad.

I padded softly down the hallway, hoping not to wake Lorenzo. He had been so attentive, so vigilant, and I didn’t want to disturb his rest.

Entering the kitchen, I flicked on a soft light and started gathering ingredients. The silence of the house was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos we had endured.

I reached for a bowl and some fruit from the fridge, my movements slow and deliberate.

But as I tried to slice an apple, my hands trembled, and the knife slipped from my grasp, clattering loudly onto the counter. I cursed under my breath, quickly picking it up and hoping Lorenzo hadn’t heard.

Just as I placed the knife back on the counter, I heard footsteps—fast and purposeful. Lorenzo appeared in the doorway, his eyes sharp and alert, scanning the kitchen for any threats.

Gun in his hands, off from safety, ready to shoot if needed.

“Isabella?” he called out, his voice filled with concern.

“Daddy, I’m fine,” I said quickly, trying to reassure him. “I just dropped the knife. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He let out a breath as he put his gun back on safety and placed that on the kitchen counter, his posture relaxing slightly as he walked over to me.

“What are you doing up so early, little one?” he asked, his voice softer now, though still tinged with worry.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted. “And I was craving fruit salad. I thought I’d make some for myself.”

Damn second morning in row when I crave for something, what the fuck is wrong with me.

Lorenzo shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You could have woken me. I’d have made it for you.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” I replied, feeling a bit guilty. “You need your rest too.”

He chuckled softly, his hands gently guiding me to sit on the kitchen counter. “Your well-being comes first, princess. Always.”

I blushed at his words, my heart warming at his unwavering devotion. Lorenzo moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, gathering the fruit and utensils with an efficiency that made me smile.

“Watch and learn,” he said with a playful wink, starting to slice the fruits with precision.

His movements were confident, each slice perfect.

As I watched him, I couldn’t help but marvel at the contrast between the ruthless mafia boss and the gentle, caring man before me.

He was a paradox, and I loved every part of him.

“You’re really good at this,” I remarked, resting my chin on my hand as I observed him.

He glanced up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ve had practice. Besides, I enjoy taking care of you.”

I looked away, biting my lip to hide my smile. “Well, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Lorenzo finished slicing the fruits and carefully arranged them in the bowl, adding a drizzle of honey and a sprinkle of nuts.

He handed me the bowl with a flourish. “Here you go, milady. One fruit salad.”

I laughed softly, accepting the bowl. “Thank you, Lorenzo. It looks perfect.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Anything for you, Isabella.”

As I took a bite, the sweet flavors burst in my mouth, and I couldn’t help but moan contentedly.

Lorenzo watched me with a satisfied smile, his hand resting on my knee.

“Good?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I replied, savoring another bite.

For a moment, everything felt right. The early morning light, the quiet of the house, and the presence of the man I loved—it was a simple, perfect moment in the midst of our complicated lives.

As we sat there, sharing the fruit salad and quiet conversation, I realized that it was these moments that gave me strength.

__________________________________________________________________________________
What do you think is wrong with Isabella?