Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7: "What A Pity"

The Hub’s private bar was, technically, still neutral ground.

It was a space of muted gold and deep shadows, designed for the kind of conversations that changed the map of Borgata without a shot being fired.

Chiara Leone arrived first and occupied the best seat in the lounge.

As the heiress to House Leone — specialists in human trafficking — she took it as her birthright to order for the table without asking.

Lucilla Bellini was the next to sweep in, draped in a dress that looked technically impossible to sew.

She wouldn’t allow herself to appear in anything less; her House specialized in the high-end black market, and she was its primary advertisement.

Lucilla slid into her seat with effortless grace, crossing her legs as she glanced at Chiara with mild amusement.

"You started without me," she noted.

"I assumed you would want something appropriate," Chiara replied, not bothering to look up.

Lucilla offered a sugary smile, filing the slight away for later.

Chiara Leone didn’t know how to take "no" for an answer — it was a trait everyone complained about behind closed doors, but never to her face.

Unless Lucilla wanted to find herself drugged, boxed in a wooden crate, and shipped overseas by morning, she knew she had better drink the unwanted cocktail, pretend it was liquid gold, and keep her expression flawlessly serene.

No matter how much it choked her.

Ylenia Ombra arrived without a sound, the way people from House Ombra tended to arrive.

As specialists in intelligence and cyber-espionage, her House had risen to power by harvesting every secret of every other House in Borgata. When Chiara and Lucilla noticed her presence, Ylenia had already sat where she could monitor all three exits.

Natalia Porto was the last: quieter than the others, carefully measured, her pleasant face showing nothing at all.

She knew by heart how to keep her mouth shut while moving the gears behind the scenes. The smuggling empire her family had operated behind Borgata’s ports for generations had taught her well.

They were women.

Heiresses.

They were not friends.

This was far from a social gathering.

Once the server withdrew, Chiara lifted her glass, more than pleased to open the conversation:

"The man with the detonator."

She kept her voice even, as though discussing a remote piece of gossip.

"Have your father’s analysts confirmed the origin, Ylenia?"

Lucilla replied before Ylenia could open her mouth.

"How could Ylenia know anything? House Moretti handled the cleanup. Which means Moretti controlled the interrogation. Which means Moretti decided what the rest of us were allowed to know."

She looked up at Ylenia then, her eyes dancing with interest.

"Unless, of course, you were already allowed to know."

Ylenia raised her glass and took a small sip, making no attempt to deny it.

"Outside contractors. Not affiliated with any of the Ten Houses. At least, not directly."

She let the last two words sit in the air like a looming storm.

All four women fell quiet for a moment, not out of discomfort, but calculation. At last, Chiara brought up the true reason for the gathering:

"Ariana Lombardi."

The name redirected the entire conversation.

Even Natalia’s neutral expression sharpened.

"She cut her hair," Lucilla said, and her flat tone suggested this was the least of the relevant facts.

Ylenia, like her father, was more than glad to speak on everyone’s behalf.

"She cut her hair, appeared sober for the first time in eighteen months, arrived on time, brought cupcakes, neutralized armed men, and then apologized to them. All within approximately two hours, following three days during which she was, by every account, completely comatose in Caio Sartori’s residence."

A cold silence followed.

"It’s a performance," Chiara said, with the confidence of a woman who’d seen many. "She wants my Caio back. She’s done this kind of thing before. Grand gestures, dramatic transformations. It never lasts longer than a month."

"Your Caio?"

Lucilla toyed with the cherry in her drink, one brow lifting.

"You two haven’t even dated."

Chiara shot her a sideways glance.

"Which means he’s open to the option."

"Ariana broke a man’s shoulder and then apologized to him," Lucilla countered. "That’s not a performance designed to win over Caio Sartori. That’s mental instability."

"Instability," Chiara echoed. "Which will make it far more satisfying when I dismantle it."

She smiled then, slow and sharp.

"And are you not irritated that your Jeremiah joined the bidding?"

Lucilla was suddenly no longer relaxed. She ate the cherry whole and spat the seed into a napkin with a sharp snap.

"Jeremiah likes quirky things," she claimed. "Quirky things, like shiny things, always lose their luster eventually."

"Unless," Ylenia added, very quietly. "It isn’t a performance or a quirk."

The words fell differently coming from the heiress of House Ombra. Both Chiara and Lucilla turned toward Ylenia.

"Her posture changed," Ylenia continued. "Her speech patterns show different hesitation markers. Even the way she scanned the room when she walked in... drug recovery alone doesn’t bring such changes."

She set her glass down, voice firm with conviction.

"Whatever she is, this is not a mere transformation. She might be a replacement."

Another silence followed, longer and colder than the first.

"That doesn’t make any sense," Lucilla said.

"I intend to address this, before it becomes a problem."

A soft, precise click interrupted them.

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