Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Aren smiled at him immediately, eager to show him how much better she felt.

"Yes, I did. I feel much better now. The drugs took effect really quickly. I’m not even shaking anymore."

Her attention immediately fell to the uniform. With Caio’s help, she slowly pushed herself upright, her movements still somewhat sluggish as she lifted each piece in turn.

"Oh, it’s sleeveless, and all white?" she asked, curiosity flickering across her face.

Jordan nodded.

"Yeah, all white. It’ll make it much easier to detect if any of the three of us takes a cut during the fight."

Then, almost as though he had suddenly remembered something embarrassing, he looked away. A flush crept across his face as he scratched awkwardly at the back of his head.

"I... didn’t know your exact size for your... um..." He cleared his throat, his ears growing steadily redder. "Your undergarments. So... I, uh..." He swallowed. "I picked them based on... well, my measurements of your frame."

Aren, meanwhile, seemed completely oblivious to his embarrassment. Her face brightened as she lifted the panties and fitted sports bra to examine them herself.

"Ah, I think this size is perfect!"

She turned the pieces over in her hands, then briefly held them against herself to judge the fit, entirely unaware that the sight was making Jordan even more flustered.

Once she was satisfied, she beamed at him.

"Thank you, Jordan! I think they’re perfect."

Jordan’s ears looked as though they might burn to coal.

"You... uh... you’re welcome."

Caio was easily the most irritated by the exchange. He raised one judging brow at the thoroughly flustered young man, amusement flickering beneath his otherwise composed expression.

’Turns out this punk acts tough and all, but he’s a complete amateur.’

’He probably doesn’t even know how to touch a woman properly.’

’I’m entirely at an advantage here.’

Amused by his own thoughts, Caio turned toward Aren and deliberately lowered his voice, letting it settle into something quieter and more intimate.

"You’re still not at your peak recovery yet. Shall I help you get changed? It’s about time you got out of those soaked clothes."

Jordan froze.

His head turned toward Caio so quickly that Aren almost looked up in surprise.

’You helping her get changed...?’

’Say what now?!’

’No fucking way!’

He opened his mouth, already prepared to protest, but Aren had nodded before he could get a word out.

"...Okay."

She looked down at her still-weakened body.

"Let’s get changed. I’ve been dying to get out of these."

Every protest died in Jordan’s throat.

He inhaled sharply, forcing down the shout that had nearly escaped, before releasing a long, irritated breath.

’Right.’

’They’re obviously already that close. Who am I to object to that?’

Even so, the irritation lingered stubbornly beneath his forced composure.

’Fucking opportunistic bastard.’

’You just wait and see, Caio Sartori. One day, I’m going to be the one helping her change.’

The moment the thought formed, several distinctly inappropriate images flashed through his mind.

His face burned even hotter.

Unwilling to let the embarrassment — or the jealousy — show too clearly, he stepped aside at once and pointed toward the doors at the corner of the room.

"There are recovery rooms over there," he said, each word sounding strained. "You can... get changed in there. I’ll wait outside. Take your time."

He turned away abruptly and walked straight toward a chair against the wall, his posture stiff with barely contained irritation.

Caio watched him go, a faintly victorious smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Then, without another word, he slipped one arm beneath Aren’s knees and the other around her back, lifting her carefully into his arms along with the uniform resting across her lap.

"Let’s go get changed, then."

─ •✧• ─ ✿ ─ •✧• ─

The recovery room was simple, furnished with little more than a single bed layered with pillows and blankets. A neat stack of towels rested on the bedside drawer, ready for anyone who needed them.

As soon as Caio closed the door behind them, he guided Aren gently onto the bed and shrugged off his suit jacket.

Carefully, he helped her out of her soaked clothes until she was completely naked, then set the drenched garments aside.

Even though Caio had seen her like this many times by now, Aren still couldn’t suppress the self-consciousness that came with being exposed.

She immediately reached for the blanket, intending to hide herself beneath it, but Caio caught her hand before she could pull it over herself.

When she looked up, she found him already climbing onto the bed and removing his shoes.

"What are you doing?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"Warming you up first," he said simply, reaching for his jacket. "Your body is still freezing cold. That’s not good for your recovery once the drugs wear off."

He draped the jacket around her shoulders before lifting her completely onto his lap. Pressing her against his chest, he drew her closer, allowing the heat radiating from his body to seep gradually into hers.

Aren couldn’t help blushing to the tips of her ears. Yet the warmth was so inviting, so deeply comforting, that she quickly stopped caring about her nakedness.

She wrapped both arms and legs around him, resting her head against his shoulder as she pressed herself closer until no space remained between them.

"This feels so comforting..." she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut. "So nice..."

For a moment, all the exhaustion weighing on her body vanished, replaced by a rare sense of quiet peace.

Caio smiled with satisfaction. She was practically wrapping herself around him like a koala clinging to its favorite tree.

"I’ll only ever make you feel nice," he murmured, each word a quiet promise. He reached for a towel and began drying her hair in a gentle, steady rhythm.

The tender care of his touch made Aren melt even further against him.

"...Thank you so much, Caio."

"Don’t enjoy it too much and fall asleep," he said, a pleased smirk settling over his face. "Though... I wouldn’t mind that either. I’d bring you home, and you wouldn’t have to fight anymore. That would save me at least half an hour of intense worry."

A small laugh escaped her.

"How about I make it fifteen?"

"I’d rather it be five."

"That’d be too fast," she shook her head. "That won’t do. How about thirteen?"

"Ten."

"Twelve?"

"Deal," he nodded sharply. "Finish the fight in twelve, and we go home."

"Ha ha—"

More laughter escaped Aren, warm and light despite the lingering weakness in her body.

As her strength continued returning, another thought crossed her mind.

"Caio?..." she murmured gently. "There’s something I need your help with. Can you help me?"

The movement of his hands slowed.

"What is it?"

"Can you please... send several of your men deeper into the compound?" She looked up at him timidly. "I need your help finding someone very important to me."

His brow drew faintly together.

"And who’s this important someone?"

"It’s Oscar..." Aren replied quietly. "He’s the boy you met earlier when we were... uh... kissing."

Caio couldn’t quite hide his surprise, nor the confusion that followed. He set the towel aside entirely, his attention sharpening.

"That boy? Why do you need me to find him now?"

"Well, it’s a complicated story..." she said, concern threading through her voice. "He was supposed to help me with... um, several important things during the second round, but then he disappeared and hasn’t been seen since."

Her voice wavered, and worry settled more heavily across her expression.

"I told Jordan I wouldn’t try to look for him... but I’m still really worried about his safety. I can’t make a scene or launch a large search, though. That would alert several bad people... so I need to find him very discreetly."

Caio fell silent, listening to every word. He considered the request with the seriousness it deserved.

Most of the Marchetti soldiers and staff now appeared to be gathered inside the warehouse. With the compound’s attention concentrated there, infiltrating deeper into the grounds shouldn’t be especially difficult for Leo and a small team.

Still, every move had to be executed with extreme care. One careless step could turn a discreet search into a major political disaster between the two Houses.

"Any clue where this Oscar might be?" he asked at last.

"I suspect he’s being kept inside some sort of detention cell. I have a good idea where those cells might be. I’ll draw you a layout so you can send your men to find the place."

"Good," he replied firmly. "Note it down on my phone later. I’ll have Leo send a small team."

The promise immediately brightened Aren’s expression.

"Thank you so much!"

His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer.

"Mm."

His voice dropped.

"And my reward?"

Aren blinked up at him, trying to understand what he meant by "reward."

Then she recognized the heat gathering in the blue depths of his eyes, and a deep blush instantly spread across her face.

Shyly, she reached up to cup his face. A quiet murmur escaped her as she leaned toward him.

"...Of course."

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