Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Chapter 29: "Eighteen"

Caio’s entire body went rigid.

For one long, agonizing moment, he could do nothing but stare at the small, delicate face resting on the edge of his pillow, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were showing him.

Alcohol still poisoned his bloodstream.

The drugs still dragged at the edges of his thoughts, turning reality sluggish and warped around him.

Then, fragments of the last several minutes floated through his head in disconnected flashes.

He remembered hearing Aren’s voice somewhere far away. Remembered the pounding at the door. Remembered drowning in the nightmare while something warm touched his chest.

But none of it made sense.

Because he knew for a fact he had locked the damn door before collapsing into bed.

And yet somehow, Aren was here.

In his bed.

Beneath his sheets.

Curled against his side as naturally as though she belonged there.

Aren tilted her head beneath his stunned stare, her hair spread carelessly across his pillow. Her expression remained entirely open, entirely sincere.

"Don Caio," she whispered softly, "it seemed you were having a nightmare."

Caio swallowed hard.

His throat felt scraped raw.

When he finally managed to speak, the words emerged as little more than a hoarse rasp.

"Wha... what the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard sounds of distress through your door when I returned to my room," she explained simply. "So I came to check on you."

His pulse, which moments ago had been racing from fear, now began hammering for an entirely different reason.

"H-how the hell did you get in?" he demanded hoarsely. "I locked the door."

Aren calmly pointed a finger toward the balcony doors.

"Not all doors. Your balcony was still open."

His gaze followed the direction of her finger automatically.

The curtains stirred faintly in the night breeze.

Then, his attention dropped lower.

Straight to the arm still draped across his chest.

To the hand that continued patting him in a slow, absent rhythm, soft and reassuring, as though she saw nothing unusual about the situation at all.

His breathing became uneven again, but the remnants of the nightmare had vanished completely.

Something hotter had replaced them.

Something far more dangerous.

"Why..." His voice came out strained. "Why are you in my bed?"

Aren blinked.

"Oh."

She considered the question for one long moment.

At last, she spoke, entirely calm and sincere.

"I decided I would sleep with you tonight."

Silence crashed down between them.

Caio stared at her.

At her face.

At the wide silver eyes looking back at him without a single trace of manipulation.

At the slight curious tilt of her head.

At the hand still absentmindedly patting his chest as though she were soothing a wounded animal.

Something deep inside his chest violently snapped.

Without warning, he surged over her in one swift motion, rolling his weight across her body and pinning her flat beneath him.

The mattress dipped sharply under his weight.

Aren let out a small sound of surprise as his body caged hers completely, his arms braced on either side of her head.

His face hovered inches above hers now.

Moonlight carved harsh shadows across his features, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw and the dangerous darkness overtaking his eyes.

Aren stared up at him, startled yet not frightened.

"Don Caio...?"

He looked wrecked.

His eyes traveled over her face with frightening focus, as though he were trying to memorize every detail at once.

He noticed the warmth blooming across her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips, and the calmness of her expression despite the fact that he had just pinned her beneath him.

His hand rose abruptly.

Strong fingers closed around her jaw.

His thumb dragged firmly across her lower lip, trembling with raw restraint.

"Do you even know what you’re saying?" he rasped.

His voice sounded thin.

Strained.

"Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?"

Aren’s confusion only deepened.

"I... I was just trying to help—"

He kissed her before she could finish.

There was nothing gentle about it.

His mouth crashed against hers with all the force of a man whose restraint had finally shattered completely.

The kiss hit hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs. His hand tightened against her face as he kissed her with desperate, reckless hunger, like he had been starving for far too long.

He bit softly at her lower lip before pulling it into his mouth, groaning low in his throat as her lips parted instinctively beneath the pressure.

Then his tongue slid against hers.

Demanding.

Possessive.

Aren stiffened completely beneath him.

Shock exploded through her entire body at once.

Her eyes widened helplessly as sensation overwhelmed her mind. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and her heartbeat stumbled so hard she thought it might stop entirely.

’Wait a minute.’

’Is this...’

A memory surfaced.

Years ago, during one of the rare periods of downtime her squad had enjoyed, her brothers had taken her to watch a movie in a half-ruined town.

Most of the film had been filled with violence, gunfire, and explosions. Then, unexpectedly, there had been a scene young Aren had never witnessed before.

A man had leaned forward and pressed his lips against a woman’s.

Aren had watched in silence, feeling something strange stir inside her chest — something unfamiliar and impossible to name.

Now, lying beneath Caio, realization struck her.

’Don Caio is... kissing me.’

She had no idea what she was supposed to do. But somewhere beneath the confusion, she understood that he wanted an answer.

So she tried.

Tentatively.

Clumsily.

She kissed him back. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

The second she did, Caio made a rough sound against her lips that almost sounded painful.

His hand slid into her hair, gripping the pale strands tightly as he tilted her head back further, deepening the kiss with bruising intensity.

His other hand crushed against the front of her cardigan, wrinkling the fabric beneath his fist as he pressed her deeper into the mattress.

The kiss turned messy almost immediately.

Chaotic.

Overwhelming.

Every ounce of tension, frustration, exhaustion, and obsession he had buried finally surfaced all at once. When he finally tore himself away enough to breathe, his chest heaved hard.

His forehead nearly touched hers.

His eyes searched her face wildly in the darkness.

"...Aren?"

Aren looked utterly dazed.

Her cheeks burned a deep, vivid red. Her lips were swollen, damp, and slightly parted as she struggled to steady her breathing.

She stared up at him in complete, overwhelming shock, like someone whose entire world had abruptly tilted sideways.

Caio froze.

The haze clouding his thoughts vanished instantly.

Cold realization slammed into him so violently it felt physical.

"Don’t look at me like you’ve never done this before," he said hoarsely.

Aren swallowed.

Her gaze flickered away before returning to his.

"I..."

Her voice was small.

Uncertain.

"I haven’t."

Caio went rigidly still.

Every muscle in his body trembled beneath the weight of her answer.

He stared at her face, searching desperately for any sign of a joke, a lie, anything.

He found nothing.

Only plain, unmistakable honesty.

The realization hit him like a knife sliding slowly between his ribs.

"Aren."

His voice turned rough.

"How old were you... when you died?"

Aren blinked at the sudden question.

"Um... eighteen," she answered softly. "And thirty-two days."

Caio shut his eyes tightly.

His jaw clenched hard enough to ache.

"And nobody," he forced out, "has ever kissed you before? Ever done this?"

Aren’s blush deepened instantly.

Slowly, embarrassed now for reasons she could not entirely explain, she shook her head against the pillow.

"...No."

For several unbearable seconds, Caio remained motionless above her.

Abruptly, he pulled away.

The absence of his weight left the mattress suddenly cold.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back toward her, elbows braced on his knees while both hands dragged harshly through his hair.

His chest hurt.

Actually hurt.

He had taken her first kiss. And he had done it without even realizing what it was to her.

Self-disgust crawled violently beneath his skin.

"Go back to your room," he said at last.

Behind him, Aren slowly pushed herself upright, still looking dazed.

"But—"

"Now, Aren."

Something cracked in his voice when he said her name.

More than the command itself, that fragile note of strain silenced her.

She looked at his rigid shoulders for a long moment, still reeling from the sudden dizzying shift between them.

Her hand lifted unconsciously, wanting to comfort him again, but something about the tension radiating off him made her stop.

Quietly, she lowered it.

She slipped off the bed and picked up her shoes from the floor, then moved silently toward the door.

At the threshold, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

"Goodnight, Don Caio," she said softly. "I hope your nightmares don’t come back."

The latch clicked gently shut behind her.

Caio didn’t move for a long time after she was gone.

He remained motionless on the edge of the bed in total darkness, staring blankly ahead while his pulse pounded violently beneath his skin.

Slowly, he lifted one hand toward his mouth, pressing his knuckles hard against his lips.

He could still taste her.

Still feel the trust she had offered him so freely.

"Fuck," he whispered into the dark.