Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 125

Chapter 125: "Don’t Let This Young Man Slip Away"

Jordan’s sports car rolled to a smooth stop before the grand front steps of the Sartori estate.

For a moment, he remained seated behind the wheel, exhaling slowly as he carefully composed his expression.

Everything Oscar had told him the previous day still weighed heavily on his mind, but none of it could be allowed to show. If Ariana had chosen not to tell him, then he would respect that decision — for now.

The front doors opened almost as though someone had been waiting for the sound of his engine.

Aren emerged alongside one of the estate maids, the two of them struggling together with an enormous insulated cooler between them.

Jordan blinked.

When she had said she was bringing her father some ice cream, he had imagined a small insulated container. Not... something that looked large enough to cater an entire banquet.

Unable to help himself, he climbed the steps two at a time and reached for the cooler before either woman could protest.

"Here, let me carry that."

The weight settled comfortably into his arms despite its size.

Aren looked up at him, a warm flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Ah, Jordan! You don’t have to. It’s very heavy. Mary and I can manage."

Jordan only smiled, already turning toward the car.

"It’s alright, Ariana. I told you I’d carry it."

The smile that usually bloomed across her face whenever he helped her never came.

Instead, something quieter passed through her expression.

Lowering her head to avoid his eyes, she hesitated for a brief moment before turning away and descending the steps ahead of him.

"...Then I’ll open the doors for you."

Jordan’s steps slowed.

He watched her hurry several paces ahead, deliberately keeping just enough distance that she no longer walked beside him.

A dull ache settled in his chest.

’She’s avoiding me again.’

’But... I didn’t even get close to her this time.’

’What am I doing wrong?’

Unable to find an answer, Jordan followed after her, the cooler steady in his arms while an invisible weight settled across his shoulders.

─ •✧• ─ ✿ ─ •✧• ─

Nearly an hour later, the sleek sports car rolled through the iron gates of the Lombardi estate.

Gian Lombardi himself stood waiting at the entrance, several servants lined up neatly behind him in orderly rows.

His expression had already been complicated before the vehicle arrived. Caio Sartori had informed him over the phone about the kidnapping attempt, leaving him quietly troubled ever since.

Then he saw the car pulling into the courtyard — and, more importantly, the young man behind the wheel.

His brows lifted almost imperceptibly.

’Jordan Marchetti?’

’He’s driving Ariana here himself?’

The sports car came to a smooth stop.

Jordan stepped out first. Dressed simply yet impeccably, he offered Gian a respectful nod before circling to the passenger side and opening Aren’s door.

The moment she stepped out, however, any trace of the cheerfulness Gian had seen in her before was gone, replaced by a quiet solemnity.

Without even glancing toward the cooler, she climbed the front steps and stopped before him, lowering her head in apology.

"I’m very sorry, Father," she said softly. "There was an incident last week that I couldn’t report to you in time. I waited until today because... I wanted to tell you in person."

Her voice grew even quieter.

"The driver you sent for me... he was shot during the struggle. I couldn’t protect him."

The apology tugged painfully at Gian’s heart.

"Oh, Ariana... what are you talking about?"

Stepping closer, he finally noticed the fading bruises that still lingered across her face.

His chest tightened.

"Caio Sartori called me immediately after everything happened," he said gently. "I already know. I’m sorry you had to go through something like that."

He shook his head.

"If anyone should apologize, it’s me. My own daughter was enduring all of this, and I knew nothing."

Aren looked up and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry, Father. It wasn’t your fault at all. I’m recovering well now."

The heavy atmosphere lingered for only a moment before she suddenly remembered something and turned back toward the car.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Jordan, let me help—"

Jordan had already lifted the massive cooler from the trunk before she could finish. Holding it securely in both arms, he smiled at her, though a faint shadow still lingered in his eyes.

"It’s alright, Ariana. I’ve got it."

Standing at the top of the front steps, Gian silently studied the Marchetti heir.

The young man stood with impeccable posture, every word measured and every movement disciplined. For one brief moment, Gian almost thought he was looking at a younger Eduardo Marchetti.

What he couldn’t possibly know was that beneath Jordan’s composed exterior, his heart was pounding harder than it had during yesterday’s obstacle course.

’Stay calm.’

’This is basically the first time I’m properly meeting the father of the girl that I...’

The thought came to an abrupt halt.

He couldn’t bring himself to finish it. Not even inside his own mind.

Stepping toward Gian, he offered another respectful nod.

"Don Gian. I’m Jordan Marchetti. We’ve never had the opportunity to speak formally before, though I’m certain we’ve met on several occasions."

He lifted the cooler slightly.

"It’s an honor to bring your daughter home today... and to help her deliver her ice cream."

Gian regarded him in silence for another moment before inclining his own head.

"Of course. The pleasure is mine. I believe you’re probably the first Marchetti to visit the Lombardi estate."

His gaze drifted fondly toward Aren, whose attention had already wandered toward the mansion with quiet anticipation.

"Come. Let’s head inside. Judging from my daughter’s expression, she’s been looking forward to today’s tea for quite some time."

─ •✧• ─ ✿ ─ •✧• ─

The three of them entered together.

Inside, Carlo and several servants carried the enormous cooler into the adjoining kitchen while tea was prepared in the estate’s sunlit drawing room.

Aren eagerly scooped bowl after bowl of ice cream into porcelain dishes before placing one in front of Jordan.

"Jordan, I made several flavors," she said, unable to hide her excitement. "Vanilla bean... strawberry... pistachio... chocolate hazelnut... and this one’s caramel coffee."

For the briefest moment, she reached for the spoon, looking every bit as though she intended to scoop up a bite and feed it to him herself.

Then she froze.

Yesterday’s resolution flashed through her mind.

’I need to stop getting so close to him.’

The brightness faded from her face. Quietly withdrawing her hand, she took a small step back and lowered her eyes.

"...Um... please enjoy," she murmured. "And tell me whether you like it..."

’...Why is she being like this?’

’Did I really make him feel that bad?’

’...But if I don’t start keeping some distance now, it’ll only become harder later.’

’So the Marchetti heir gets flustered around my daughter.’

’Apparently the boy is completely smitten.’

’Whatever this problem is... I’m going to fix it.’

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