Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 59

Chapter 59: "Closer To Me"

The quiet corridors were bathed in the warm amber glow of evening lights.

Caio walked several steps ahead of Aren, his hand still wrapped firmly around her wrist as he guided her through the estate.

He had remained unusually quiet ever since they parted ways with Daria, and what had begun as visible irritation seemed to have dissolved back into his usual composure.

Little did Aren know, the irritation had not disappeared at all.

It had merely gone underground. His expression remained calm, almost detached, but beneath that flawless exterior an endless internal debate continued to churn.

’Should I give her more time?’

’Try to convince her?’

The memory of Aren practically lighting up whenever Jordan spoke to her flashed through his mind again, sharp enough to reignite every possessive impulse he possessed.

’No fucking way.’

’There’s no way I’m losing her to that punk.’

’I need to make her more comfortable with me.’

’Closer to me.’

When they passed the corridor leading back toward the dining hall, Caio walked straight past it without hesitation.

Aren glanced up at him in confusion.

For a moment, she wondered whether he had simply missed the turn or become too distracted to notice. If they continued down this route, they would end up in the west wing where both of their suites were located.

Curious, she quickened her pace until she was walking beside him.

"Don Caio," she asked softly, "are we not going back to the dining hall?"

"The ice cream is already melting," he replied without slowing. "I asked the staff to put it away."

"Oh..."

The disappointment in her voice was immediate.

"Then... are we returning to rest?"

"Yes."

His answer was simple.

"We’re heading back."

Aren immediately increased her pace, assuming he was exhausted after a long day and wanting to get him back to his suite as quickly as possible.

By now, Biscuit was probably asleep. Earlier, the little dog had been so tired that she had tucked him into bed before going downstairs for dinner.

Soon they reached the staircase leading to the upper floor. The two suites occupied the entire level, positioned opposite one another at the end of the long corridor.

Their footsteps echoed softly through the otherwise empty space as they climbed.

When they reached the top, Aren turned toward Caio with a small smile.

"You must have had a very long day," she said warmly. "Please rest early. Good night."

Despite her farewell, Caio’s hand remained firmly around her wrist.

He didn’t release her. Instead, he stood perfectly still and looked down at her with eyes as still and unreadable as deep water.

Finally, he released a slow breath.

When he finally spoke, Aren thought she saw the faintest hint of color beneath the pale skin of his cheeks.

"Remember when I told you there were still things I wanted to do with you?"

His voice emerged low and soft, carrying far more meaning than the simple words themselves.

Aren blinked up at him.

For a moment, the corridor went silent, save for the sound of their breathing.

His words brought up the memory fast — the warmth of his lap beneath her, the closeness of his body, the way he had held her. Aren’s cheeks gradually burned up through it all.

"I remember," she admitted quietly.

Caio didn’t hesitate.

"Do you want to do that now?"

He tilted his head toward his suite.

"In my room."

The invitation was no longer hidden behind implication. Neither was the look in his eyes.

Something hungry lingered there now, softened only by the restraint he was making a visible effort to maintain.

Aren bit lightly against her lower lip, suddenly nervous for reasons she didn’t quite understand.

Still, after a brief hesitation, she nodded.

"...Yes."

That was all Caio needed.

The faintest smile touched his lips.

"Come."

He led her toward the doors.

─ •✧• ─ ✿ ─ •✧• ─

Inside, the room was quiet.

The low hum of the air conditioner drifted through the darkness while Caio adjusted the temperature controls.

Beyond the balcony doors, moonlight spilled across the floor in pale silver pools, mixing with the warm glow of the single lamp beside the bed.

Throughout it all, he never released her hand. Slowly, patiently, he guided her farther into the room until they reached the edge of the bed.

"Aren."

He settled onto the edge of the bed and looked up at her.

"Sit with me."

For the briefest moment, Aren found herself wondering whether this was what he had meant by "intimate" during their very first contract discussion.

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