Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 96

Chapter 96: "I’m Not Like Biscuit"

Just as they stepped into the exhibition hall, the atmosphere shifted.

One by one, conversations faltered.

Heads near the entrance turned toward Isidore, and within seconds, a ripple of silence spread across the room.

Apparently, he wasn’t attending tonight as the feared consigliere of House Accardi’s money-laundering empire. Here, he was the Vice Chairman of the largest banking institution in Borgata — a position that commanded an entirely different kind of prestige.

At only twenty-eight years old, Isidore Accardi had already earned a reputation as an infamously cold, relentlessly efficient man — a walking machine wrapped in impeccably tailored suits.

His striking appearance certainly didn’t hurt, either. While banking rarely produced celebrities, Isidore was one of the few exceptions.

The quiet curiosity surrounding him, however, transformed into outright shock the moment people noticed the woman walking at his side.

Almost instantly, every gaze shifted toward Ariana Lombardi — or, more specifically, toward the fading bruises scattered across her face.

Given the scandal that had been circulating throughout Borgata for days, most of the guests didn’t even need any explanation. They silently reached the same conclusion about what — or rather, who — had left those marks behind.

Whispers spread almost immediately.

Most hid them behind elegant smiles or raised champagne flutes, careful not to let Isidore overhear.

"God... do you see what happened to her face?"

"I didn’t know Isidore Accardi was such a sadist."

"I wonder what sort of kinks they indulge in behind closed doors to leave her looking like that."

"Honestly... how undignified. Imagine allowing yourself to be treated that way."

"What did you expect? I heard he paid an enormous sum to make her his property. She’s basically his pet now."

The comments didn’t entirely escape Aren’s notice. As she walked beside Isidore, her gaze drifted quietly toward the murmuring guests.

She lacked enough context to understand every word, but she recognized the familiar pattern well enough.

’They’re talking badly about Ariana again.’

Her eyes slid sideways toward Isidore.

’Why do they keep calling me his pet?’

’The women at the luncheon called me that as well.’

The question lingered only briefly before she sensed two familiar figures approaching.

Isaac was making his way toward them with Micaela gliding gracefully at his side.

The Accardi Don bore a clear resemblance to Isidore, yet the considerable age gap between them made it difficult to believe they were brothers. At first glance, they looked far more like father and son.

Beyond that, their personalities couldn’t have been more different.

Where Isidore radiated icy authority and absolute composure, Isaac exuded effortless warmth. He looked every inch the seasoned businessman who could negotiate impossible deals with nothing more than a smile, or laugh wholeheartedly at terrible jokes if it kept the room charmed.

Isaac’s attention settled on Isidore first.

"Oh, Isidore. Just in time," he mused pleasantly.

His gaze flicked toward Aren before a teasing smile spread across his face.

"I see you’ve brought... a partner tonight. I never thought I’d live to witness such a sight."

Isidore showed no interest in indulging the remark. Instead, his gaze wandered toward the surrounding exhibits.

"Spotted anything worthwhile?"

Isaac laughed softly, though the amusement never quite reached his eyes.

"Look at you. You finally bring a partner somewhere, yet you don’t even bother introducing her to your own brother."

His attention shifted to Aren, lingering briefly on the bruises decorating her face before he politely chose to ignore them.

"Though..." Isaac said thoughtfully, "I’m fairly certain we’ve crossed paths several times already, Miss Lombardi."

With practiced elegance, he stepped away from Micaela and reached for Aren’s hand, lowering his head in a gentlemanly kiss across her knuckles.

"Oh..." Aren replied, watching him bow over her fingers.

Unsure how best to respond — after all, they had never truly spoken before — she settled on what seemed the safest answer.

"Yes... good evening, Don Isaac. It’s good seeing you again here."

Isaac chuckled, though he made no immediate move to release her hand.

"My, how charming you’ve become." His smile broadened. "It seems spending time with our Isidore has changed you... quite a bit."

Beside him, Micaela laughed along with the joke.

Her eyes, however, never left the way Isaac continued holding Aren’s hand longer than courtesy required.

’You sneaky, flirting bastard.’

Although the thought sharpened her gaze, her smile only widened. She stepped gracefully toward Aren, prompting Isaac to release her hand at last.

"My, don’t you look lovely this evening, Miss Lombardi," Micaela said warmly, resting both hands upon Aren’s shoulders. "Though... I do see you’ve had quite some... wild fun with our Isidore."

Her gaze swept appreciatively over Aren’s gown before the veiled insult could settle.

"What a beautiful dress. Where did you find it? You’ll absolutely have to tell me the brand."

Aren regarded her with a perfectly blank expression. Micaela looked nothing like the openly hostile woman she had encountered at the luncheon.

Tonight, she appeared warm.

Elegant.

Almost genuinely kind.

’She’s acting as though she didn’t insult me for no reason at the luncheon.’

’This woman either has a remarkably short memory... or multiple personality disorder.’

The conclusion left Aren quietly uncomfortable. Rather than indulge the performance, she took a small step backward, politely slipping out from Micaela’s touch.

"I’m very sorry," she said evenly. "I don’t remember the brand. Don Caio took me shopping, but I wasn’t paying attention. Perhaps you could contact him directly instead."

For a heartbeat, the air itself seemed to stop moving.

"What exactly are you doing?"

’Master Accardi is upset...’

’But I’d rather tell him the truth.’

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