Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 102

Chapter 102: "Hooked"

The Palazzo di Notte rose from the heart of Bellini District like a monument built from light itself.

By every measure, the hotel was a Lombardi-owned property. However, located amidst Bellini’s enclave of media conglomerates, haute couture houses, and exclusive galleries, it drew a very specific crowd.

Socialites.

Journalists.

Reporters.

Editors.

Nearly everyone occupying the lobby made a living from information and shaping Borgata’s next gossip.

The moment the blonde couple stepped through the grand entrance, the lobby fell into a silence that was anything but natural.

Every eye found them.

Socialites paused mid-conversation.

Reporters instinctively reached into their pockets.

Journalists discreetly activated voice recorders, while media executives lowered their gazes to their phones, thumbs already racing across note-taking apps.

Aren walked beside Isidore with quiet composure, one arm looped comfortably through his. Outwardly, she appeared perfectly at ease, yet her attention swept the lobby with practiced precision.

Nothing escaped her notice.

The employees recognized her immediately. That was hardly surprising.

The guests, however...

That was different.

She felt it almost at once.

The silence.

The careful avoidance.

The peculiar way people looked at her only when they believed she wasn’t watching, only to snap their eyes elsewhere the instant she glanced in their direction.

It was the same suffocating scrutiny she had encountered ever since assuming Ariana’s identity.

Leaning subtly toward Isidore, she lowered her voice.

"Um... Master Accardi... do we really have to do this? Don Caio might be very upset if I don’t return home tonight..."

Isidore didn’t answer the question she had actually asked.

His gaze remained fixed ahead.

"See those people?"

She followed his gaze.

"Yes."

"They aren’t ordinary guests. Most of them are reporters. Journalists. Media personnel."

Aren blinked.

"...What do you mean?"

"A rumor is a living organism," he explained, slow and patient like a lecturer. "Left unfed, it gradually weakens until people stop believing it. For it to become accepted as truth, it requires constant reinforcement."

His gaze swept briefly across the lobby.

"These people have now witnessed you arriving at a hotel with me, exactly as our fabricated relationship dictates. By tomorrow morning, they’ll reinforce that narrative themselves."

Understanding slowly settled into Aren’s mind.

’Rumors... require maintenance.’

’Just like operational camouflage.’

The realization fascinated her.

Throughout the drive from the Ombra Tech Expo, Isidore had spent nearly the entire journey briefing her. Far more than he ever had before.

The discussions had ranged far beyond the mission itself — covert tradecraft, psychological manipulation, information control. Subjects she had never encountered during her training.

Most of it still felt abstract. Some lessons refused to settle neatly into place. Yet despite the endless questions with which she had interrupted him, he had answered every one.

Calmly.

Methodically.

Without a trace of impatience.

Without even a sigh.

Unlike the quiet sighs Caio often let out whenever she asked something her mind refused to let go of.

She stole a small glance toward Isidore.

’Master Accardi is reasonable again.’

’I like him when he’s reasonable.’

As though sensing her gaze, Isidore looked back.

A small smile bloomed across Aren’s face as she met his eyes.

"I understand now. Please teach me more lessons like these in the future."

Isidore offered no smile in return.

He didn’t praise her.

He didn’t look away from that smile, either.

Together, they crossed the marble floor until they reached the reception desk. The receptionist was already waiting for them, though all color had drained from her face the moment she saw them enter.

"Lady Ariana," she greeted warmly, despite the slight tremor in her voice.

The moment her eyes shifted to the man accompanying Aren, she seemed to pale even further.

"...Mister Accardi."

She swallowed.

"Welcome to the Palazzo di Notte. Have... have you already made a reservation?"

Isidore didn’t acknowledge the question. Without breaking stride, he removed a sleek black card from his wallet and placed it upon the countertop.

"The Presidential Suite. One night. Clear the entire top floor of all secondary guests and staff. Send one bottle of cognac upstairs immediately."

For a heartbeat, the receptionist genuinely looked as though she might faint.

The Presidential Suite had remained unoccupied for months. Someone reserving it on such short notice was almost unheard of. Someone requesting the complete evacuation of the entire floor...

That bordered on the unbelievable.

"O-Of course, sir."

She nearly stumbled over her words.

"Right away."

She hurried into motion at once, reaching for the telephone with visibly trembling hands while simultaneously typing commands into the reservation system.

As she scrambled to carry out his instructions, Isidore’s attention drifted almost lazily toward a man lingering several steps away from the reception desk.

To any casual observer, the guest appeared absorbed in his phone, merely another businessman checking messages.

The reflection in the man’s glasses, however, revealed something else entirely.

The recording application was active.

Every word spoken at the reception desk had been clearly captured.

The faintest shadow of satisfaction settled somewhere behind Isidore’s otherwise unreadable expression.

’Hooked.’

Turning back to the receptionist, he accepted the room keycard without another word and guided Aren toward the elevators. The instant the elevator doors slid shut, the carefully maintained façade in the lobby collapsed.

Every reporter, journalist, and media executive who had been pretending not to watch sprang into action.

Phones flew to ears.

Voice recordings were uploaded.

Dozens of fingers danced frantically across glowing screens, every face wearing the expression of someone who had just stumbled upon tomorrow morning’s front-page scandal.

Inside the elevator, however, the atmosphere was almost unnaturally tranquil. Only the quiet hum of the ascending cabin filled the silence.

Through the mirrored elevator doors, Isidore’s gaze drifted to the phone resting in Aren’s hands before settling on the faint crease of concern between her brows.

"You still haven’t sent that text?"

She had held her phone for the entire drive from the Tech Expo.

She hadn’t even unlocked it.

For someone capable of pulling a trigger or throwing a dagger without a moment’s hesitation, her indecision over a single message was, to Isidore, oddly incomprehensible.

Aren looked at him uncertainly.

"Well... I’m still composing it in my head..."

He upturned a palm between them.

"I finished composing it hours ago."

She offered an awkward smile.

"Um... it’s okay. I should write it myself."

Isidore merely inclined his head, offering neither objection nor further assistance.

Aren lowered her eyes to the screen and drew a slow breath before unlocking it.

Instantly, the display exploded with notifications.

Missed Calls (79)

Don Caio.

’...Oh no.’

’He’s probably worried.’

Ariana: Hi, Don Caio. I’m very sorry for missing your calls. I put my phone on silent. 😭

Ariana: I have a small update. For the Accardi contract, I am required to spend the night away tonight. 😅

Ariana: Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m staying in a hotel, and Isidore Accardi is with me. He’s extremely skilled at martial arts. You sparred with him already. You know how good he is. I won’t get kidnapped again. ☺️

Ariana: And I have a few small requests!

Ariana: Could you please ask one of the maids to give Biscuit his favorite treat? The purple one with the blueberry and yogurt flavor. 🐶

Ariana: And please tuck Biscuit into bed as well. He likes having his ears scratched and little circles rubbed on his back. Thank you very much! 🥰

Ariana: I’ll be home tomorrow morning. Would you like banana bread for breakfast? I spotted a very nice bakery near this hotel. ☺️

’...That’s a considerable number of emojis.’

’Highly inefficient.’

’She could have simply written: "I’m not coming home tonight."’

’Operationally irrelevant.’

’Subject analysis update.’

’Despite currently occupying Ariana Lombardi’s identity... the subject appears to have had little previous exposure to this degree of luxury.’

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