Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 113

Chapter 113: "What An Insult"

Only then did Aren finally recognize her attacker.

She blinked up at Oscar, who squirmed where he stood, wincing as he cast her a pleading look over one shoulder.

"Oscar?" she asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Realizing she was still twisting his arm hard enough to hurt him, she released his wrist at once and stepped back. Her eyes widened with alarm as she dipped into a hurried bow.

"I’m very sorry! I didn’t realize it was you!"

She looked up at him curiously.

"But... why did you attack me?"

Freed at last, Oscar immediately cradled his wrist, rubbing it with a pained grimace. When he finally turned to face her, disbelief was written all over his features.

Instinctively, he retreated several steps, staring at the much smaller young woman as though he had just encountered a monster.

’My God! So the rumors about her subduing terrorists at the Summit were actually true?’

’The Lombardi heiress is actually this skilled at martial arts?’

’Thank God I didn’t fight her in front of the soldiers the other day, or I’d have become the laughingstock of the entire compound.’

Outwardly, however, he forced himself back into his usual carefree demeanor. Without Caio around, the respectful politeness he had shown before vanished almost instantly.

"Attack you?" he scoffed. "I wasn’t attacking you! I was just gonna surprise you with a jump scare!"

"Oh?"

Aren tilted her head thoughtfully before understanding dawned across her face.

"Ah. I’m very sorry for ruining your jump scare! Shall I walk down the corridor again? You can hide and catch me this time. I promise I’ll act surprised!"

Oscar stared at her with a perfectly flat expression.

Feeling far more embarrassed than injured, he folded his arms across his chest, clicked his tongue, and looked away.

"Tch. It’s not fun anymore. Next time I’ll definitely get you."

His gaze drifted back to her face, lingering on the bruises that had faded considerably since he’d last seen her.

"You look a lot better today than you did the other day. Healing fast, huh?"

Aren touched her cheek lightly.

"Indeed. I’m healing very quickly thanks to the wonderful medicine at the Sartori estate."

Then, as though remembering something that genuinely delighted her, her entire face lit up.

"I’m actually heading to the private gym. Are you free? We could spar today, if you’d like."

Oscar blinked.

"You serious?" He stared at her. "You’re actually gonna spar with me?"

He had honestly assumed she had offered only out of politeness the last time they had met.

Aren answered with an enthusiastic nod.

"Of course! I’ve been looking forward to it ever since."

Oscar hesitated, caught off guard by the complete sincerity in her expression. There wasn’t the slightest hint of mockery or obligation in her eyes.

A faint blush slowly crept across his face.

"Fine!" he declared, trying to recover his confidence. "Let’s spar! But don’t expect me to let my guard down like I just did, alright? I’m gonna show you the full extent of my skills." He grinned proudly. "No Marchetti soldier has ever beaten me."

Aren laughed softly.

The boast was outrageously confident.

Yet somehow...

Something settled warmly inside her chest.

’...He reminds me of my brother.’

One of her brothers had spoken exactly like that — always loud, always certain he was invincible.

Before the memory could blossom into something painfully nostalgic, she reached out, patted Oscar lightly on the shoulder, and walked past him.

"Then let’s go! Let’s head to the gym!"

She skipped ahead happily.

Oscar remained rooted to the spot for a heartbeat, watching her go as the warmth in his face deepened into a full blush.

"Hey! Wait up!"

He hurried after her, wondering what on earth was wrong with him.

Together, they crossed the Marchetti compound beneath the warm afternoon sun.

Eventually, they entered one of the covered corridors leading deeper into the estate’s buildings.

Oscar naturally took the lead, walking a few steps ahead with his chin tipped ever so slightly upward, determined to look every bit the proper host showing the Lombardi heiress around his family’s compound.

Aren couldn’t help smiling at the sight.

’He’s trying very hard to look dependable.’

The thought amused her.

As they continued down the corridor, however, another sound gradually reached her ears.

A familiar voice drifted from a nearby corridor.

Lazy.

Sleepy.

’...Nazario?’

’...He’s so lonely.’

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