Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52: "Two Years Ago"

The restaurant Jordan had chosen for dinner was tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the Marchetti District.

Marchetti District itself was hardly lacking in exceptional restaurants. The problem was that, most of the fashionable, luxurious, and highly visible venues were simply not an option for the young Marchetti heir tonight.

It was not a matter of money, of course — Jordan could afford every table in the district several times over — but rather a matter of avoiding certain familiar faces.

Even so, Jordan had genuinely wanted to impress Aren. The result was a hidden gem known mostly to locals and the fortunate few who stumbled across it by chance.

Aren liked it immediately.

The restaurant had been carved directly into an unassuming brutalist building, its bare concrete façade rising against the twilight like a weathered fortress.

’So people dine inside bunkers as well in this world.’

The realization filled her with quiet excitement. With Biscuit nestled comfortably in her arms, she followed Jordan inside.

The moment they entered, Aren’s eyes began wandering in every direction, absorbing every detail with fascination.

The exposed concrete walls, the warm lighting tucked into recessed alcoves, and the low murmur of conversation drifting through the space — all felt wonderfully familiar to her.

Jordan, meanwhile, was experiencing a very different evening. While Aren admired the architecture, Jordan was discreetly surveying the room.

His gaze swept across occupied tables, corner booths, and every face illuminated beneath the restaurant’s amber lighting.

Searching.

Checking.

Verifying.

When he failed to spot anyone familiar, some of the tension finally eased from his shoulders.

Only then did he glance toward Aren.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t choose somewhere better," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I originally wanted to take you to one of the nicer places around here."

The concern felt embarrassingly genuine.

Everything he had heard about Ariana Lombardi before meeting her painted the same picture: expensive tastes, expensive habits, expensive everything.

Even though the young woman standing beside him now was nothing like those rumors, a lingering anxiety remained.

’She probably thinks I’m some workshop rat who only knows guns and machinery.’

’Maybe this place looks cheap to her.’

’God, what if she hates it?’

To his surprise, Aren turned toward him with eyes widened not in disappointment, but in genuine astonishment.

"There are better places than this?"

Jordan blinked.

’...She’s not upset?’

Aren gestured enthusiastically toward the surrounding walls.

"This place is incredible! I never imagined Borgata had dining bunkers."

A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. The knot in his chest loosened almost immediately.

"You’re really funny sometimes, you know that?"

Before Aren could respond, a hostess approached with a welcoming smile.

"Hi there, welcome in. Sorry for the wait."

Her greeting faltered the moment she noticed Biscuit.

"Oh, um... we don’t usually allow pets inside—"

Jordan didn’t even allow her to finish. A crisp hundred-dollar bill appeared atop the podium with the same effortless speed he might have used to draw a pistol.

"He’s very well-behaved," Jordan said firmly. "We’ll take a corner table. He won’t bother anyone."

As if on cue, Biscuit tilted his head, offering the hostess a pair of perfectly round, innocent puppy eyes.

The hostess stared at the bill.

Then at Biscuit.

Then at Jordan, whose gaze had suddenly become dark enough to make further discussion feel unwise.

Her decision took less than a second.

"...Right this way, sir."

Aren beamed.

Together, they followed the hostess deeper into the restaurant.

As they walked, conversations subtly quieted around them. More than a few heads turned in their direction, curious eyes lingering longer than they should have.

Jordan attracted attention naturally wherever he went. Aren attracted even more. Somehow, Biscuit completed the spectacle.

Unfortunately, the three of them never made it to their table. Just as they crossed the center of the restaurant, a surprised female voice cut sharply through the room.

"Jordan?"

Jordan froze instantly.

The color nearly drained from his face.

’Oh God.’

’Are you serious?’

’What exactly did I do to deserve today?’

He could practically feel the entire evening collapsing around him.

’Did Don Eduardo simply spend a decade copying and pasting himself several times?’

’Wonderful.’

’Not just one sister.’

’Both of them.’

"And with her?"

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