Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Chapter 20: "I Was Waiting For You"

The black car glided smoothly through the streets of Borgata.

Inside the back cabin, a suffocating silence reigned.

A divider sealed the driver away completely, leaving only Caio Sartori and Leo seated across from one another, their faces illuminated by the glow of passing city lights. freёwebnovel.com

Caio checked his watch for the third time.

8:30 PM.

His expression darkened another shade.

He had instructed Mrs. Pecora to tell Ariana Lombardi that dinner would begin at eight. Had Borgata traffic not been absolute hell tonight, he wouldn’t have been this late to his own estate.

Beside him, Leo remained perfectly still, already sensing the tension thickening inside the cabin. They were only minutes from the Sartori estate when Caio finally broke the silence.

"The investigation on Ariana Lombardi."

His gaze remained fixed on the blurred city outside.

"Report."

Leo gave a single, tight nod. He had anticipated this exact request hours ago.

Ever since Ariana’s last visit to the Sartori estate, Leo had quietly stationed undercover scouts around the Lombardi Hotel to closely observe her daily movements.

He unlocked his phone, pulling up his notes, and began reading them one by one in his usual calm tone.

"Our surveillance confirms significant behavioral changes in Lady Ariana," Leo reported. "Everything appears to have started immediately after the Summit." ƒгeewebnovёl.com

Caio closed his eyes briefly.

’Not from the Summit.’

The memory flashed vividly through his mind. The girl waking up in his bed with confusion in her eyes.

’It started that morning.’

He never voiced the thought aloud. Instead, he forced his eyes open and kept staring out the window.

"Go on."

Leo scrolled farther down his screen.

"She hasn’t posted on social media since that day," he continued gradually. "She no longer attends VIP parties or high-society galas. According to the Lombardi Hotel staff, her personality has changed entirely."

Caio glanced toward him.

"How?"

"She greets the cleaning staff politely. Thanks them constantly. Often with formal bows. Our source says she’s memorized the first and last names of nearly every hotel employee on the payroll."

Caio hummed absentmindedly.

"I noticed the bows."

"Her schedule has also changed drastically," Leo continued carefully. "She wakes at five every morning, walks the dog, and spends most of the day inside the hotel."

He hesitated briefly before adding,

"Unless... she’s grocery shopping."

Caio turned his head slowly.

"...What?"

Leo looked equally confused saying it aloud.

"She buys groceries personally, Boss. She rarely eats out at five-star restaurants anymore. She cooks everything inside the suite herself."

Caio stared at Leo like he’d just spoken another language.

"Ariana Lombardi? Shops at supermarkets?"

"Yes, Boss."

"She cooks?"

Leo cleared his throat, visibly struggling to process his own report.

"Yes, Boss. Additionally... her sugar consumption has increased significantly. Cakes, pastries, desserts — anything coming from a bakery."

For several seconds, Caio said nothing at all.

He mentally ran through years of parties, galas, and events.

Ariana had never touched dessert — never cake, never pastries. Half the time she barely touched bread.

"It’s like..." Caio muttered quietly, "someone else is living inside her body."

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Even he found the sentence ridiculous the moment it left his mouth.

Leo wisely chose not to comment.

Before the silence could grow stranger, the car rolled through the gates of the Sartori estate and slowed before the front steps.

Leo stepped out first and opened the rear door. Mrs. Pecora already stood waiting at the top of the stairs.

"Mrs. Pecora," Caio asked as he exited the car, "you finished moving her to the west wing?"

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Pecora replied smoothly. "The suite opposite yours was prepared immediately after your approval."

"No issues with storage?"

Mrs. Pecora had seen that question coming. She replied with perfect composure.

"There was no issue, sir. Lady Ariana arrived with... very few belongings."

"How few?"

"She arrived with one backpack."

Caio stopped moving entirely.

Very slowly, he turned his head to look back at her.

"...One backpack?"

Mrs. Pecora gave him a grim nod.

"And the dog from her previous visit, sir."

Even Leo looked stunned now. His hand remained frozen halfway to closing the car door.

Caio stared at Mrs. Pecora like he expected her to admit this was some kind of joke. When she didn’t, he slammed the car door hard enough to echo across the courtyard.

THUD.

Without another word, Caio stormed up the stairs.

"Dinner is ready?"

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Pecora replied, hurrying after him. "Lady Ariana has been waiting in the dining hall since eight."

Caio’s stride slowed.

"She hasn’t eaten?"

"No, sir. The staff offered, but she insisted on waiting for you before dinner began."

A sharp exhale escaped Caio.

Something dangerously close to guilt twisted inside his chest. He crushed the annoying feeling immediately and resumed walking.

Fast.

By the time he entered the dining hall, irritation had settled visibly across his face.

He found Aren sitting alone at the impossibly long dining table beneath warm chandelier light.

She was once again dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. Beside her untouched cutlery rested a neatly folded sheet of paper.

The moment Aren saw him enter, she stood up and offered a polite bow.

"Don Caio," she greeted politely. "Thank you for approving my request to move rooms."

Caio ignored the statement entirely. He crossed the room, shrugged off his coat onto the back of his chair, and sat down with visible irritation.

"You haven’t started dinner."

"I was waiting for you."

The words hit Caio harder than they should have.

He let none of it show. Only the line between his brows deepened further.

"Why are you still standing?" he muttered. "Sit down."

Aren didn’t move to sit. Instead, she picked up the paper beside her plate.

She walked around the table and placed it beside his hand, before stepping back like a soldier awaiting orders.

Caio frowned at the piece of paper.

"What’s this?"

"Summary of security vulnerabilities I identified within the estate."

Slowly, very slowly, Caio looked up at her.

Her expression remained completely serious.

His gaze dropped back toward the paper, a dozen conflicting thoughts flashing through his eyes before he smoothed them away.

Reluctantly, he picked it up.

It was handwritten in neat lettering, with bullet points and annotated diagrams.

The content, however:

Dead camera angles.

Blind patrol routes.

Weak points in servant rotations.

Possible infiltration paths.

Caio stared at the page for several long seconds before dragging a hand over his face.

"What time did you arrive?"

"Five forty."

"You arrived at five forty," he repeated slowly, "and you produced all this before dinner?"

"They are critical flaws," Aren replied firmly. "High-priority concerns requiring immediate correction."

Caio stared at her, like she was some kind of alien pretending very poorly to be human.

The dining hall became so quiet that the servants waiting nearby began shifting uncomfortably.

At last, Caio flicked two fingers toward the staff.

"You. Come here."

One of the maids hurried forward immediately.

Caio handed her the report.

"Take this to Leo. Tell him I expect every issue fixed by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

The maid practically fled the room.

Only then did Caio’s gaze shift toward Mrs. Pecora standing near the doors.

"Mrs. Pecora."

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring me a bottle of white wine."

Mrs. Pecora visibly froze.

"Sir—"

"Bring it."

His sharp tone cut through the room instantly.

Mrs. Pecora’s eyes flickered briefly toward Aren standing quietly beside the table. For perhaps the tenth time that day, Mrs. Pecora found herself hesitating.

How could she possibly forget?

The first time white wine had been served to Ariana Lombardi inside this estate, the girl had exploded in outrage.

She had called it insulting. Claimed the staff were incompetent for failing to remember her preferences.

One glass had been thrown directly at the wall.

Three expensive bottles shattered afterward.

Mrs. Pecora herself had cleaned the mess from the marble floors.

Now, that same Ariana stood silently beside Caio Sartori without the slightest complaint.

Under Caio’s unwavering gaze, Mrs. Pecora lowered her head.

"Yes, sir. I will have it brought to you immediately."