Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Chapter 65: "A Damsel In Distress"

"Young Boss!" Marco ground out through clenched teeth. "What do you mean I suddenly have a seasonal flu and can’t come inside?"

He stood in front of the bakery café beside Jeremiah, looking as healthy as ever.

"I am perfectly fine," he insisted. "I could run around these blocks ten times if it came to it!"

Faced with the manager’s heartfelt suffering, Jeremiah merely waved a dismissive hand.

"Just sit and wait for me in the car," he said easily. "I’m getting you three bags of garlic butter croissants — your absolute favorite. What exactly are you still complaining about?"

"But, Young Boss!" Marco cried. "The gelato!" He pointed accusingly toward the café’s glass windows.

Jeremiah let out a long, weary sigh, as though he were the one making sacrifices.

"Fine. Two boxes of gelato. Happy now?"

Marco looked ready to negotiate for even more, but Jeremiah had already lost interest. His gaze had drifted through the glass toward Aren, who had entered only moments earlier and was apparently having the time of her life staring at shelf after shelf of freshly baked pastries.

The corners of his lips curved upward with a mixture of anticipation and delight.

"Now get back in the car and stop interrupting my private time," Jeremiah said. "I’d hate to keep our lady waiting."

Marco released one last aggrieved huff before turning sharply on his heel.

"Just don’t mix up my favorite flavors again!" he called over his shoulder. "Remember, Young Boss — strawberry and banana! Not blueberry and vanilla!"

The car door slammed shut behind him. Another mournful huff escaped the poor manager as he reflected on all the sacrifices he had made for the young Castellano heir.

Jeremiah watched Marco with a faint look of exasperation before smoothing every trace of it away. His immaculate smile returned as naturally as breathing, and he stepped through the café’s glass doors.

Primavera was a bakery café nestled along Fifth Street, widely regarded as one of the upper class’s favorite establishments in Borgata.

The moment Jeremiah entered, the scent of freshly baked bread and pastries rolled through the room in waves of buttery temptation, powerful enough to make anyone want to order everything on display.

Near one of the display racks, Aren remained crouched before the endless selection, her empty tray resting in her hands. Her stomach growled miserably beneath the intoxicating scents surrounding her, yet every new pastry she looked at only made choosing more impossible than before.

Jeremiah smiled to himself.

’A damsel in distress.’

’How fortunate that I’m here to rescue her.’

Without hesitation, he walked over and crouched beside her. Leaning in just enough for only her to hear, he spoke in a voice so warm and soothing it bordered on hypnotic.

"Still having trouble deciding, my lady?"

Despite the softness of his tone, Aren jumped slightly at his sudden closeness.

Heat blossomed across her cheeks as embarrassment settled in.

"Ah... yes," she smiled sheepishly, gesturing toward the displays. "There are just... so many choices, and everything looks equally delicious."

She glanced up at him with quiet hope.

"You’ve been here before, haven’t you? What would you recommend?"

Jeremiah immediately seized the opportunity to play the expert. Extending an elegant hand toward her tray, he offered a helpful smile.

"May I?"

Aren handed it over without hesitation.

"Of course. Please pick as many as you like. I’d like to bring some back for the Sartori household staff as well."

Jeremiah couldn’t have looked more pleased.

"Excellent."

Armed with a pair of tongs, he began selecting pastries as though he owned the bakery himself.

"These croissants," he declared, placing several onto the tray, "are absolutely exceptional."

The tongs shifted again.

"And these egg tarts..."

A pleased sigh escaped him.

"They’re one-way tickets to heaven."

By the time Jeremiah finally declared himself satisfied, they had accumulated enough pastries to fill two large bakery boxes.

Aren ordered herself a generous scoop of blueberry gelato.

Jeremiah, meanwhile, somehow ended up with something that looked less like gelato and more like an island composed entirely of desserts.

Scoops of nearly every imaginable color were piled impossibly high beneath waffles, cookies, marshmallows, edible gold leaf, whipped cream, and delicate pink flower petals.

Aren stole a long glance at his order.

’I should’ve gone with that...’

Her eyes drifted toward his profile, practically sparkling with admiration.

’Is he... a true gelato master?’ free𝑤ebnovel.com

Once everything had been paid for, they settled at a quiet corner table, safely removed from curious eyes.

The moment they sat down, Jeremiah rested one elbow upon the tabletop, his cheek supported lazily against his palm as he regarded Aren with dreamy eyes that seemed almost too captivated to blink.

"So, my lady," he began, "I trust you’ve used the preparation time you requested before your official debut at the Pit quite productively?"

Aren lifted her cup of gelato closer to her face, partly to hide behind it. The topic flustered her far more than Jeremiah’s intense attention ever could.

She had done her best.

Whenever her duties allowed, she woke early for cardio and spent every spare moment training. This body no longer collapsed after intense physical exertion the way it once had.

Even so...

Compared to the towering men built from dense muscle and thick bone whom she would eventually face inside the cage, her own physique still felt painfully inadequate.

"It’s been... rather productive," she answered, carefully avoiding his gaze. "I’m still working hard on it everyday."

After a brief pause, she looked up again.

"Is that what you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Well, of course not," Jeremiah replied with an easy smile. "But since you’re my soon-to-be superstar, I believe it’s only fair that I keep track of your progress."

He took another elegant spoonful of his extravagant gelato before continuing.

"Perhaps I should remind you that you’re welcome to train at the Pit whenever you like."

Aren looked up.

"...I can?"

"You’ve already signed with us." Jeremiah shrugged casually. "You may not have debuted publicly yet, but familiarizing yourself with the arena before your first fight is always worthwhile."

"I understand." Aren nodded thoughtfully. "That is a very good idea."

She dipped her head politely.

"Thank you, Mister Castellano. You’re very thoughtful." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Rather than looking pleased, Jeremiah sighed dramatically.

"Ah... is it really so difficult for you to simply call me Jeremiah?" he lamented, the disappointment in his voice sounding almost genuine. "You’re breaking my heart by putting such distance between us."

"Well..."

Aren lowered her gaze to her melting gelato.

Calling Don Caio simply "Caio" had been surprisingly easy after everything they had shared together.

Calling Jordan by his first name had felt natural almost from the moment they had met.

Jeremiah, however, was different.

He was kind. Charming. He smiled so effortlessly that it almost never left his face.

Even so...

He felt impossibly distant.

Like someone standing on the opposite shore of an ocean she couldn’t cross.

She quietly stole another glance across the table. Jeremiah continued eating his colorful dessert with perfect composure, smiling as though he didn’t have a single worry in the world.

"I’m very sorry," Aren apologized sincerely. "Since you’re my employer, I think addressing you properly is more appropriate."

Jeremiah merely smiled wider.

"If you insist, my lady."

He dismissed the matter with an elegant wave of his spoon before leaning forward slightly. For the first time since they had sat down, his expression took on a more businesslike air.

"Now then, allow me to explain why I wanted to meet you today."

Aren visibly straightened, her focus snapping into place.

Jeremiah caught the shift at once and felt a quiet surge of satisfaction.

’Well now.’

’It’s my time to shine.’

Taking another spoonful of gelato, he spoke with deliberate elegance.

"Your contract with the Pit has generated quite a bit of attention lately. As you may have heard, the Castellano Club believes it would be beneficial to hold a small press event before your official debut."

He smiled.

"Think of it as a press conference."

"A press conference?" Aren repeated, surprised.

"Exactly." A dazzling smile followed. "A chance to introduce you properly to the public. Build anticipation. Give people something to look forward to."

"And when would that be?"

"One week before your debut. We’ll arrange a thorough medical examination beforehand to ensure everything is in perfect condition. A proper wardrobe. Professional makeup. Everything necessary to present you at your very best."

Aren stared at him blankly.

"So, all those flowers you bought earlier... they’re just... for the press conference?"

She still couldn’t remember how many bouquets or color combinations he had ordered back at the flower shop, nor did she particularly want to know.

Jeremiah, meanwhile, looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

’Should I tell her about the venue, too?’

’Or how many reporters will be attending?’

’Perhaps the fans as well?’

The venue he had chosen had cost a truly absurd amount of money to reserve for the entire day.

Based on everything he had heard about Ariana Lombardi, that level of production — combined with the flowers he intended to fill every corridor and conference room with — would undoubtedly please a woman like her.

She was, after all, a socialite. A public figure. A woman accustomed to attention.

Jeremiah himself understood that sensation better than most.

’We’ll see then...’

’Whether you’ll finally lower those walls around your true self, Little Miss Lombardi.’

The more he entertained the thought, the dreamier his expression became.

None of it reached his lips. Instead, he let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"Ah... hearing you reduce all those flowers to mere decorations truly wounds me," he complained lightly. "Perhaps you haven’t gotten to know me well. I am a man who appreciates only the finest things life has to offer."

His eyes sparkled with quiet confidence.

"And whatever I choose to do... I believe in giving it nothing less than my very best."