Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 6

Chapter 6: "Biscuit"

The Hub’s reception room was emptied on Gian’s orders.

Lombardi guards stood at both doors, their faces as rigid as the stone pillars they flanked.

Outside, the sounds of the other Houses departing — low voices, the rumble of car engines, the rhythmic click of heels on marble — gradually subsided, until only the city’s ambient hum remained.

Gian placed two cups of tea onto the table between him and his daughter.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

He simply looked at her, trying and failing to decide where to begin. It’d been so long since he’d last sat across from her for a real conversation that the silence felt heavy and brittle.

At last, he spoke.

"How did you move like that?"

His voice was thick with a mixture of paternal awe and the sharp suspicion of a man who had survived Borgata’s underworld for decades.

Across from him, Aren wrapped both hands around her warm cup, considering her response. She decided to remain as close to the truth as possible.

"I... had a lot of time to think while I was away. I realized that if I didn’t want to be a liability, I should learn to be... useful. So I practiced. And studied."

Gian closed his eyes briefly, one hand rubbing slowly against his temple.

He didn’t believe a word of it. A spoiled socialite didn’t "study" her way into becoming a lethal weapon overnight.

He also didn’t care. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel like he was waiting for a funeral.

He lowered his hand, studying her quietly before speaking again.

"What do you intend to do about the offers from Sartori, Castellano, and Accardi?"

Aren silently cataloged the names. After a brief moment of thought, she lifted her gaze toward him.

"Is it acceptable if I take all three?"

Gian jolted so hard the tea nearly sloshed over the rim of his cup.

"Ariana, you don’t understand! Their intention isn’t to help. It is to humiliate you! They want to parade you around like a trophy of our failure."

Aren tried to recall the men from the Summit table.

Caio had seemed exhausted. Jeremiah had looked entertained. Isidore had looked more interested in paperwork than anything else.

She couldn’t quite see the "humiliation" Gian was referring to.

"Well..." She tilted her head slightly. "We are already in debt. Which I think... is already a form of humiliation."

Gian grimaced as though physically struck.

Her bluntness delivered the punch, mostly because of how correct she was. Still, every instinct in him rebelled against allowing his daughter to walk willingly into the hands of those men.

"Even so, one arrangement would already clear the arrears. There is no reason for you to involve yourself with all three."

"But..." Her eyes wandered to the luxury around the room. "These buildings we own — the hotels and the clubs — they look like... they cost a lot to run. We need more than just to be out of debt. We also need to... operate well. I believe taking all three offers is the most efficient path."

Gian stared at her in genuine disbelief.

This was not only the most intelligent thing his daughter had ever said in front of him, it was the most selfless.

She had been the reason the debt existed in the first place, yet here she was, planning for the House’s future and long-term operational survival.

"Ariana," he said, trying once more to dissuade her, "I can’t allow you to deal with those three men alone. They are not simple businessmen. They are predators."

Aren gave it a thought.

In her previous life, one person’s problem was the team’s problem. Family, squad, unit — it made little difference to her mind.

This man and Ariana Lombardi were family. Therefore, by the logic of her previous life, his problem was now hers.

"We are family," she said softly. "And I would like to be useful."

Once again, Gian found himself struggling for words.

Nothing about this conversation aligned with the daughter he thought he knew anymore. He took another sip of tea simply to steady himself.

"If you truly intend to proceed, then understand this clearly. They all want something from us, and it isn’t just the money."

Aren blinked at him.

"What do you think they want?"

Gian exhaled heavily, exhaustion lining every word that followed.

"Caio Sartori has the closest business relationship with us — he provides narcotics for our nightclubs, among other things. But he’s been looking for an opportunity to absorb our territory for years."

Another long sigh.

"Accardi Bank holds our debts and wants our influence. And Castellano... they are our direct competitor. Their fight clubs draw more crowds than our nightclubs ever could. They want to see the Lombardi name erased."

Aren nodded slowly, filing the intel away like a mission briefing.

"You should not worry, Father," she said at last. The word felt strange on her tongue, but it came out more naturally than she expected. "I will be very careful."

Gian studied her face in silence.

There was something deeply unsettling in her eyes as she said those words — not the glassy vacancy of a high, nor the usual petulant spark, but a steadiness that felt displaced, as if she had witnessed things far beyond her years.

In that moment, he realized he didn’t recognize the girl sitting across him at all.

He let it go for now.

"Be careful," he repeated.

Afterward, Gian walked her down to the entrance where the Lombardi sedan waited. They bid each other farewell, and Aren prepared to return to the hotel.

Gian watched her car until it disappeared around the corner, his hands clasped behind his back and his face very still.

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