Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12: "It’s Just Dog Fluid"

Jeremiah stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, admiring the man who looked back at him.

His light blond hair fell just right, framing a face that had sold more campaigns than he cared to count.

His teal eyes were clear and striking; they held a person’s attention even when he wasn’t trying.

He would have savored the reflection a moment longer, had his manager, Marco, not been there to shatter the peace with his restless pacing.

"She’s Ariana Lombardi, Young Boss," Marco warned for the third time. "She’s had three interventions in two years. She’s going to be difficult, or high, or both. Most likely both. This is a terrible idea."

Jeremiah didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head slightly, studying his reflection from a different angle.

"She dismantled armed men with two fingers, Marco," he said, voice smooth, almost dreamy. "You should’ve seen the security footage. It was breathtaking."

"She was probably high when she did it!" Marco threw both hands up in the air. "Adrenaline. Narcotics. Who knows what else. That kind of thing messes with the nervous system."

Jeremiah hummed, low and thoughtful.

"Which," he replied with a lazy smile, "I don’t mind at all."

"Young Boss!" Marco’s frustration finally cracked. "This is business. We can’t put a walking scandal in the Pit. The headlines alone—"

"Marco."

The single word sliced through the air like a blade.

Jeremiah’s gaze flicked to his manager through the mirror, teal eyes sparkling with tease.

"The scandals," he said lightly, "are always the point."

Marco stopped pacing. He stared at Jeremiah, searching for any sign that this was a joke.

He found none.

Jeremiah watched him through the mirror for a moment longer. Then, a long and weary sigh escaped him.

"Just imagine it," he said, voice softer now. "This is Ariana Lombardi. Millions of followers. A face people would pay to look at. A body every man in this city thinks he deserves."

He tilted his head slightly, already picturing the scene.

"Now, put her in the Pit."

The corner of his mouth curved upward.

"In something provocative. Something delicate. Something that clings when it’s soaked through. Sweat. Maybe blood."

A small shrug, careless.

"Hers... or someone else’s. Both, if we’re lucky."

Marco’s brow furrowed, slow and uncertain. He had worked for the Castellanos long enough to think he had seen every shade of madness.

Apparently, he hadn’t.

"So that’s your plan?" Marco asked, voice hoarse. "Use her as bait? Bring in the high-rollers who want to watch a pretty girl get hurt?"

Jeremiah finally turned away from the mirror and faced Marco fully. For one second, Jeremiah looked almost thoughtful.

Then,

He winked.

"Aren’t men all secretly a little sadistic?"

The smirk that followed was razor-sharp, cold enough to end the conversation on its own.

Marco opened his mouth, then wisely closed it again.

Jeremiah’s expression eased once more, the sharp edges melting back into elegance.

"But truthfully," he added, almost to himself, "I have this eerie feeling the one getting hurt... won’t be our dear Ariana."

Ding!

The elevator chimed softly, cutting through the tension of the room.

As the door slid open, Aren stepped into the lounge.

She wore a simple cream cardigan over a modest dress, her short platinum hair neat and unstyled. In her arms she cradled Biscuit, who looked completely out of place among the marble and gold.

Jeremiah’s gaze locked onto her immediately.

"Lady Ariana," he greeted, voice like warm silk as he moved toward her with graceful steps. "What a pleasure."

His eyes dropped to the dog.

"And who might this distinguished gentleman be?" he asked, a polite smile curving his lips. "A new member of your security detail?"

"This is Biscuit," Aren said, holding the dog a little closer. "I’m sorry for bringing him. I didn’t want to leave him in the car. He gets lonely."

Jeremiah leaned in slightly, still smiling.

"A pleasure to meet you both."

Achoo!

’Calm down.’

’Calm down.’

’It’s just dog fluid.’

’Very sticky fluid, apparently.’

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