Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180: "My Star Is Here"

The Grand Imperial Opera House.

Bellini District.

9:00 AM, Thursday.

Almost every reporter arriving that morning had the same reaction the moment they stepped out of their cars.

For several seconds, many simply stood on the pavement and stared upward.

The Grand Imperial Opera House towered above them in a magnificent sweep of towering columns and vast arched windows, its pale façade blazing beneath the morning sun.

It was one of Borgata’s most recognizable landmarks — a venue reserved for world-renowned performers and the kind of cultural events people discussed for years afterward.

And today, somehow, it was hosting a press conference for a newly signed underground fighter.

Naturally, nobody understood it.

Then again, Ariana Lombardi was hardly an ordinary underground fighter.

She had been signed by the Castellano Club, which was managed by Jeremiah Castellano himself — a man whose extravagant tastes were nearly as infamous as his name.

Under those circumstances, perhaps renting one of the most prestigious buildings in the city for a simple press conference was, by Castellano standards, almost disappointingly restrained.

That conclusion lasted only until the reporters entered the opera house.

Inside, the Grand Imperial had been transformed into something between an aristocratic wedding, a luxury fashion exhibition, and the fever dream of a wealthy young man with absolutely no concept of moderation.

And everywhere—

White peonies.

Thousands of them.

They lined the foyers, framed the sweeping staircases, surrounded the bars, and spilled from enormous arrangements positioned at nearly every turn.

Their fragrance hung thickly in the air — sweet and so overwhelming that several reporters began to worry that prolonged exposure might eventually induce a headache.

Everyone, it seemed, had an opinion about the flowers.

Everyone, apparently, except Jeremiah Castellano.

The host of the event stood beside one of the longest floral arrangements, slowly examining it from one end to another with the solemn concentration of a man inspecting a priceless work of art.

A gentle smile rested on his beautiful face, somehow making his already angelic features appear even more striking against the sea of white blossoms surrounding him.

"Wow," he murmured appreciatively, bending toward the flowers to inhale their fragrance. "This arrangement is absolutely beautiful, isn’t it?"

The florist standing beside him nearly forgot how to breathe.

The sight of Jeremiah Castellano admiring flowers was apparently more beauty than her nervous system had been designed to withstand.

"I’m very glad you enjoy them, Mister Castellano," she replied.

Her eyes fixed on him with barely concealed admiration, but that admiration lasted only until her gaze started drifting across the overwhelming abundance of white surrounding them.

"Though..." she added, uncertainty slipping into her voice, "I must say, this is certainly one of the more... distinctive installations I’ve worked on."

Jeremiah appeared not to notice the subtle emphasis at all.

"Believe me, darling."

He sighed softly.

"I only do distinctive."

When he finally turned toward her, the smile on his face remained perfectly lovely.

His eyes did not.

"Except..." he continued pleasantly, "there appears to be one tiny mistake that has somehow managed to make the entire arrangement look like absolute garbage."

The florist froze.

A cold shiver traveled down her spine.

There was something profoundly unsettling about being insulted by a man who looked as though he ought to have been painted onto the ceiling of a cathedral.

She hurriedly examined the flowers he had been studying.

Everything appeared flawless.

The peonies were pristine. There were no browned edges, no discoloration, no damaged stems. The arrangement matched the others almost perfectly.

Her brow slowly furrowed.

"Um... I’m terribly sorry, Mister Castellano, but I’m not entirely sure which mistake you’re referring to."

Jeremiah immediately pressed the back of one manicured hand to his forehead and released a deeply regretful sigh.

"Oh, dear. Perhaps this profession simply isn’t suitable for you."

The florist’s stomach dropped.

Her face went pale.

Jeremiah smiled sympathetically, his expression brightening with helpful enthusiasm.

"Would you like me to help you find another line of work? Something more appropriate for your particular talents? I could have a list of recommendations prepared for you by tomorrow morning."

Each word was spoken softly.

Each one struck like lightning.

The florist barely had time to formulate an apology before Jeremiah looked around the foyer as though searching for something — or someone.

"Ah," he said suddenly, his expression brightening. "There she is."

He turned back toward the florist with a dazzling smile.

"That’s your manager, isn’t it? Wait here for just a moment, darling. I’ll explain everything to her myself. You don’t have to worry."

The florist immediately descended into panic. She clasped her hands together, her face stricken with terror.

"No! No, sir — Mister Jeremiah, please! Please don’t tell my manager! I beg you! Could you at least explain what mistake I made first?"

Jeremiah stared down at her.

For several seconds, he looked genuinely sympathetic.

"Ah, it really is difficult, isn’t it?" He patted her shoulder with soothing concern. "Fine. Since I’m in a good mood today, I suppose I don’t mind explaining."

Turning back toward the arrangement, he lifted one elegant finger and pointed toward a single peony.

"There. Do you see this flower right here?"

The florist leaned forward and stared.

The flower looked exactly like every other peony in the arrangement.

Jeremiah’s smile never wavered.

"It’s tilted perhaps five degrees to the left compared to the others."

The florist stared harder.

Before she could process what she’d just heard, Jeremiah had already reached forward and delicately adjusted the offending flower by a fraction.

"There," he said. "Let me fix it for you."

He stepped back to admire his work.

"Perfect."

Then he turned toward her with the affectionate expression of a senior offering valuable advice to a promising junior.

"Consistency is crucial, darling. You have no idea how easily the smallest details can turn a spectacle into a complete disappointment. Focus better next time, will you?"

"Yes! Yes, of course, sir!" The florist bowed so quickly she nearly lost her balance. "I’ll check the other arrangements immediately! I’ll make sure not a single flower is out of place!"

She fled before Jeremiah could offer any further guidance.

Nearby, Marco had witnessed the entire exchange while calmly enjoying a butter croissant. Only after the florist had disappeared into the distance did he finally clear his throat.

"Ahem. Young Boss."

Jeremiah turned toward him.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify