Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68: "Make You Feel Good"

Inside, the room was cool and steeped in darkness, illuminated only by the faint silver glow filtering through the tall windows.

Caio stepped inside and came to an abrupt halt.

Aren was asleep. But not in her bed.

Instead, she had somehow curled herself up on the plush carpet beside it.

Her breathing rose and fell in a slow, peaceful rhythm, one cheek resting atop an open notebook. Curled snugly against her side was Biscuit, sound asleep with his tiny body pressed warmly against hers.

For a long moment, Caio simply stood there, taking in the quiet scene before gently closing the door behind him.

Then, he crossed the room.

Biscuit wasn’t sleeping deeply. The little dog sensed Caio’s presence almost immediately.

His one ear twitched upward before sleepy eyes blinked open, and he looked up, seemingly ready to bark. Before he could, Caio rested a finger against his own lips.

"Shhh," he whispered. "Make a sound, and I’ll have you sleeping in the kitchen."

Biscuit, of course, understood none of the words, but the intimidating aura radiating from the tall man required no translation.

With visible reluctance, the little dog climbed to his feet, circled once, then retreated to a nearby corner where he sat with an unmistakably pouty expression.

Caio spared him only the briefest sideways glance before crouching beside Aren. With careful fingers, he eased the notebook away from beneath her cheek.

’What’s this?’

His eyes narrowed as they scanned the neatly organized pages.

Detailed maps of the Sartori estate.

Employee names meticulously categorized by position and rank.

Guard rotations.

Shift schedules.

Recorded dead time.

Page after page documented a comprehensive investigation into the assassination of the six murdered prisoners.

The corner of his mouth twitched — not quite into a smile, but into something closer to stunned disbelief.

’Didn’t I tell her to stay out of this?’

His gaze drifted from the notebook to Aren’s sleeping face.

’She’s supposed to remain a secret, not investigate my enemies and advertise what she’s capable of.’

A reluctant sigh escaped him. Just as he prepared to close the notebook, one final note caught his eye.

> Marchetti compound. Marchetti Trials. In one week.

> Castellano Club. Press Meeting. In two weeks.

Caio’s expression immediately darkened.

He recognized both entries at a glance, what they referred to. More importantly, he knew precisely how dangerous they were.

"What exactly have you been getting yourself involved in while I’m away?" he murmured to the notebook, unease settling heavily in his chest.

Carefully, he closed it and placed it atop the bedside table before slipping one arm beneath Aren’s back and another beneath her knees. Lifting her effortlessly from the carpet, he carried her to the bed.

After kicking off his own shoes, Caio climbed onto the mattress without releasing her from his arms. He drew the blanket over her and buried his face against the curve of her neck, breathing in the familiar scent he had craved ever since leaving that morning.

Every movement was deliberate.

Every touch carefully measured so as not to wake her.

Yet the instant Aren felt the warmth of his strong arms wrapped securely around her, she stirred softly in her sleep, nestling closer into his embrace as though she belonged there.

One blink.

Two blinks.

And slowly, her eyes fluttered open.

’...Huh?’

The first thing she saw was a pair of familiar blue eyes watching her. So many emotions lingered within them that she couldn’t separate them all.

There were worry, longing, affection, even displeasure. Each seemed to contradict the others.

’Is this a dream?’

Aren blinked sluggishly.

’Why does he look... upset?’

Before she could gather her thoughts, his lips began to move.

"Aren."

His breath brushed gently against her skin.

"You fell asleep on the floor."

Aren, still trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, simply cuddled closer, her voice little more than a drowsy murmur.

"The bed is too soft sometimes," she admitted. "I’m more used to hard surfaces."

Something tightened painfully inside Caio’s chest. His arms instinctively drew her closer, warm and protective.

"I’ll get you a firmer mattress," he promised. "But you didn’t lock your door either."

Though his voice had softened, the quiet note of disapproval remained unmistakable.

Aren didn’t answer immediately. Instead, warmth slowly climbed into her cheeks.

’Ah...’

’So this isn’t a dream.’

Turning fully toward him, she buried her face against his chest.

"I was hoping..."

She hesitated.

"...that you’d come."

Caio went perfectly still.

There was no mistaking what she meant.

Very gently, he cupped her chin and guided her face upward until their eyes met. He searched her expression for only a heartbeat before leaning down to capture her lips with his own.

The kiss was slow and tender, carrying all the longing that had built inside him throughout the day. It caught Aren completely by surprise regardless.

"You bought flowers for me?" he murmured softly against her, before brushing another gentle kiss across her lips.

Aren’s cheeks deepened steadily in color.

"...Yes," she whispered. "You saw them?"

He answered with another lingering kiss.

"Mmm."

Aren smiled, hopeful and excited.

"Did you like them?"

A faint smile touched Caio’s lips.

"They’re beautiful," he said quietly. "Like you."

Aren blinked in confusion, momentarily pulling back.

"But..."

She tilted her head.

"...this isn’t my body."

’He’s more...’

’...aggressive than before.’

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