Free Web NovelChapter 63: "Bait Taken"
Aren slowly turned in place, taking in the vibrant sea of flowers stretching before her in every direction.
She stood now beside Daria inside an upscale boutique florist in the heart of the city.
The air was rich with the mingled fragrance of lilies, roses, fresh greenery, and damp earth, while warm sunlight streamed through broad display windows, bathing endless rows of blooms in golden light.
To anyone else, it would have been breathtaking.
To Aren, it was overwhelming.
She glanced to her left, then to her right, before turning back to Daria.
"There are too many," Aren whispered. "Where do we even start?"
Daria smiled at once, every bit the attentive, capable maid she appeared to be. Stepping comfortably to Aren’s side, she clasped her hands neatly before her dress, as though the answer had always been obvious.
"Don’t worry, my lady," she said reassuringly. "I told you I’ve got this."
Her smile remained calm as she gestured toward the displays surrounding them.
"Since your meeting with Don Gian isn’t until Sunday, buying fresh-cut flowers today would actually be a mistake. By the time you arrive at the Lombardi estate, most of them would already be drooping."
She walked to a nearby display and gently lifted a blue hydrangea bloom between her fingers.
"Especially hydrangeas. They’re beautiful, but they’re delicate. Without constant water, they’ll begin to wilt surprisingly quickly."
"Oh." Aren frowned. "Then coming today was a mistake?"
"Not at all," Daria replied smoothly. "We’ll simply schedule the delivery instead. We choose the arrangement today, pay for it, and have the florist deliver everything fresh to the Sartori estate on Sunday morning, just before you leave. That way, the flowers will be at their absolute best when you present them to your father."
Relief softened Aren’s expression.
"That sounds very efficient. Thank you, Daria."
Daria’s smile widened just enough to appear genuinely pleased.
"Of course. Now..." She gestured once more toward the sea of blossoms. "As for the arrangement itself, which flowers do you like?"
"What would you suggest?"
Daria led Aren toward a display of elegant crystal vases, thoughtfully surveying the surrounding flowers.
"White tulips and blue hydrangeas would be perfect, just as Mrs. Pecora recommended. Since your father is a Don, we want something grand without sacrificing meaning. What do you think about combining the two?"
Aren studied the blossoms for a long moment.
"They’re both very beautiful..."
She turned back to Daria with a small, uncertain smile.
"Could you help me arrange them? I... honestly have no idea what I’m doing."
"Of course, my lady. That’s what I’m here for."
She beckoned one of the florists over and confidently described the arrangement she envisioned — a tall crystal vase filled with pristine white tulips at its heart, embraced by a lush cloud of deep blue hydrangeas.
As the florist gathered sample stems together, Aren couldn’t help admiring the striking contrast.
The pristine white nestled against the rich blue looked elegant, refined, and quietly dignified all at once.
’Daria knows so much about beautiful, elegant things.’
The realization filled her with admiration.
’I need to learn these things from her.’
Her gaze drifted slowly across another flower display.
’I want to buy Don Caio some flowers too.’
’But... what meaning do I want them to carry?’
She stood motionless for a while, searching for words that could express the complicated feelings she had always felt around him. Eventually, her eyes settled upon a row of white peonies.
Hundreds of delicate petals folded over one another, blooming in perfect fullness. Their brilliant white gave them an innocent purity despite their lavish appearance, making them seem both bold and strangely shy at the same time.
Just like the way Caio always made her feel.
A blush crept across her cheeks.
Nearby, Daria had already finished discussing the arrangement.
Her attention drifted from the florist to Aren, who remained standing before the peonies, completely lost in thought.
The small vial of sedative Gael had delivered only yesterday rested safely inside Daria’s pocket. All she had to do now was lure Aren somewhere private, find a way to make her ingest it, and bring her to the agreed location, where Gael’s men were already waiting.
’What could possibly tempt this girl?’
’Ah... right.’
’She bought an absurd amount of cakes.’
’And if I remember correctly, the staff said she’s been baking nonstop lately... and made enough ice cream yesterday to feed an army.’
A plan quickly formed. Turning back to the florist with a bright, polished smile, Daria nodded.
"Yes, perfect. Let’s arrange it exactly like that. Would you excuse me? I just need to check with my mistress."
The smile remained flawlessly in place as she approached Aren.
"Well, that was a successful flower-shopping trip," Daria said sweetly.
Aren immediately snapped out of her daze.
"Yes," she replied. "I’m glad we sorted it out so quickly."
"Me too." Daria smiled. "Since we still have a little time before heading back, would you mind stopping by a café nearby?"
"A café?"
"There’s this amazing little place just two blocks away called Primavera. They make incredible artisan pastries, and honestly, their homemade white chocolate gelato is legendary. I think you’d absolutely love it."
Aren’s attention immediately latched onto several very specific words.
’Artisan pastries.’
’Homemade gelato.’
"Pastries?" Aren asked, locking onto Daria with startling intensity. "And homemade gelato too?"
Daria’s smile grew even wider.
"Yes. You have to try their entire selection. Their croissants are perfectly crisp on the outside and practically melt like butter on the inside."
Aren had already been convinced the moment she heard "entire selection."
She nodded immediately.
"Then let’s go. I wish to try everything."
She turned away, completely missing the sharp glint that briefly flashed through Daria’s eyes. A secretive smirk tugged at the maid’s lips before vanishing beneath her practiced smile.
’Bait taken.’
’This girl is ridiculously easy to lure.’ freewёbnoνel.com
’She’s changed in many ways recently... but apparently she’s still just as simple-minded and brain-rotted as ever.’
Satisfied, Daria smoothed every trace of smugness from her expression, returning to the picture-perfect image of an attentive maid.
She had just taken a single step forward when the bell above the flower shop entrance chimed.
Ding.
Aren stopped dead in her tracks.
The moment she recognized the angelically handsome face stepping through the doorway, time seemed to freeze.
Across the entrance, the young man dressed in an immaculate white suit also came to an abrupt halt, one hand still resting on the doorknob.
Surprise flashed across every one of his exquisitely sculpted features. An instant later, it melted effortlessly into delighted amusement.
A dazzling smile spread across his face, bright enough to illuminate the entire room, while his brilliant teal eyes sparkled with unmistakable pleasure.
"Well now," Jeremiah Castellano said, "what a pleasant surprise."
He strode toward Aren at once, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. It very nearly slammed into the face of the older man following directly behind him — Marco, his ever-loyal and perpetually exasperated fight club manager.
Aren blinked several times, momentarily stunned by the almost unreal beauty before her. She had met him twice now, yet his unearthly handsomeness never failed to capture her attention.
Giving herself a small shake, she stepped forward to meet him halfway.
"Mister Castellano?" she greeted politely.
Jeremiah laughed softly, the sound smooth, warm, and effortlessly charming. Within only a few graceful strides, he stood before Aren.
Without the slightest hesitation, he gently took her hand, bowed his head, and brushed a featherlight kiss across her knuckles. Every movement was so flawlessly practiced that several florists stopped what they were doing altogether.
"Just Jeremiah, my lady," he said smoothly.
The scene looked less like a chance encounter and more like something lifted straight from a lavish historical romance.
A few nearby customers quietly gasped.
Soft whispers immediately spread throughout the flower shop.
Apparently, every customer recognized Ariana Lombardi — and even more recognized Jeremiah Castellano.
Publicly, Jeremiah was known as the young heir to Borgata’s largest casinos and fight clubs. What truly elevated him into celebrity status, however, was his face.
It had fronted countless luxury fashion campaigns and cosmetic advertisements across the country, making him instantly recognizable wherever he went.
To everyone watching, Ariana Lombardi and Jeremiah Castellano looked like an almost impossibly beautiful pair, though one of them was known just as much for her endless infamous scandals.
Marco, however, appeared thoroughly unimpressed.
Having narrowly survived the assault of the closing door, he marched toward them with visible irritation.
"Ahem, Young Boss."
He cleared his throat loudly.
"We’re here for business. Not flirting."
Jeremiah’s smile never faltered.
"What can I do?" he replied teasingly. "Whenever Lady Ariana is around, I seem to develop an irresistible urge to flirt."
Even so, he gracefully stepped back and released Aren’s hand.
"Why don’t you go ahead and place the order for me, Marco? I’m quite sure I briefed you thoroughly enough."
Marco’s expression somehow managed to grow even more suspicious.
"So..." he asked flatly. "Black Baccara roses, burgundy dahlias, crimson amaranthus, white lilies, and orchids in purple, pink, gold, and green. Is that everything?"
Jeremiah nodded with visible satisfaction.
"Excellent as always, Marco. So you actually listened to all of my rambling."
He gave a dismissive little flick of his fingers toward Marco.
"What are you waiting for? Go and do what you do best."
Marco released a weary sigh and shot Jeremiah another long-suffering glare. Despite his frustration, he still offered Aren a respectful nod.
"Excuse me, my lady."
He then walked toward the nearest florist and began placing Jeremiah’s ever-absurdly long order in meticulous detail, each additional specification making the florist’s face darken by another shade.
Meanwhile, behind Aren, Daria stood perfectly still.
All warmth had vanished from her face the moment she saw Jeremiah Castellano walk through the glass doors.
’Goddammit.’
’What the hell is he doing here?’
For the briefest moment, genuine anger threatened to break through Daria’s carefully crafted composure, but she buried it immediately. By the time Jeremiah’s gaze drifted toward her, she had already transformed her expression into one of polite surprise.
She stepped forward and dipped her head respectfully.
"Mister Castellano!" she greeted warmly. "What a pleasure to meet you here."
Jeremiah spared the unassuming brown-haired maid a curious glance, amusement dancing once again at the corners of his mouth.
"And who," he asked pleasantly, "is this charming young lady over here?"
