Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

One by one, the nurses disappeared through the door until the room belonged to the two of them.

For a moment, the atmosphere settled into something almost peaceful — until Jordan, stubborn as ever, attempted to sit upright as though he intended to pull Aren closer.

The sudden movement sent a jolt of alarm through her.

"Ah! Jordan, easy!"

She immediately pressed both hands against his chest, easing him back against the pillow.

"You’ve already lost a lot of blood. You could black out again or tear your stitches if you try to sit up now."

The warning was enough to make Jordan obedient at once. He relaxed against the pillow, deciding that the last thing he needed was to lose consciousness again now that she was finally beside him.

Concern quickly overtook his expression as a barrage of questions followed.

"What happened after I passed out? Did they catch Natalia? Did you get hurt?"

"Not at all." Aren shook her head. "The guards subdued Lady Natalia immediately afterward, before she could fire another shot. Your father and my father interrogated her with Don Caio."

"Did she confess to rigging the course? To planning to kill you?"

"She didn’t. But I heard she’d been confined to Porto territory and stripped of her inheritance rights because of what happened. She already left with House Porto."

Jordan fell silent as he processed the information.

He was relieved that Natalia hadn’t managed to hurt Aren after he passed out. But the fact that Natalia had apparently been allowed to leave still irritated him deeply.

Pushing the feeling aside, he let out a weak laugh.

"God, what terrible luck. I’ve only just managed to ask you to date me, and now I’m stuck wearing this sling for at least the next three weeks."

Aren looked surprised.

"The nurses told you already?"

"Yeah. And apparently, I’m going to need another two or three months of physical therapy." He shook his head, already dreading it. "God, how I hate physical therapy."

Aren fell quiet at the unmistakable dread on his face. After a moment’s consideration, she looked away shyly.

"How about... I help you with physical therapy instead?"

Jordan blinked.

"You know physical therapy?"

She scratched her cheek awkwardly.

"Oh, I only know a few things..."

Of course, she couldn’t tell him that she knew far more about rehabilitation than she was letting on, having helped comrades through recovery countless times at Headquarters.

Instead, she quickly came up with something more believable.

"I... um, happened to take a course in my free time some time ago, just out of curiosity. So... if you’re confident enough to let me try, I’d love to help."

Jordan stared at her as though she’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket.

Just imagining her staying close to him, touching him, and guiding his movements through every exercise for the next three months... was enough to make his ears burn.

’...She does know a lot, doesn’t she?’

’I guess I’d better start loving physical therapy from now on.’

’Never imagined I’d live to see the day I actually looked forward to it.’

None of those thoughts ever left his mouth. He looked away before any trace of anticipation could reach his face.

"Yeah... I mean, sure," he said, trying to sound casual. "I’d... definitely want you as my therapist."

Aren’s face immediately lit up.

"Great! Then I’ll ask the nurses to note me down as your therapist."

Jordan smiled at her happiness, and somehow, all the discomfort in his body seemed to ease. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing her.

"Are you going to charge me half the fee again for this?"

"For this one, I’ll give you another ten percent discount," Aren declared generously. "Since you saved my life."

A laugh burst out of him so suddenly that Aren nearly worried he’d torn a stitch.

"That’s still too expensive for me."

"I thought you said you could perfectly afford your expensive dating plans?" she shot back, gently patting his shoulder to keep him still.

Jordan was still chuckling.

"That’s an entirely different matter."

Without another word, his free hand reached up and wrapped around her arm, pulling her closer until she leaned down near his face.

When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to something quieter and more intimate.

"Can I... continue what we were doing before we were interrupted?"

Although he’d kissed her decisively on the ring earlier, that moment had been fueled by a sudden rush of happiness and excitement.

Now that they were alone in the quiet recovery room, the thought of kissing her again made a surprising shyness wash over him.

Aren was just as shy.

Only now, reminded of their kiss on the ring, did all those unfamiliar sensations return to her. She remembered the warmth of his lips and the strange, pleasant flutter that had filled her chest.

’Come to think of it... Jordan didn’t kiss me as intensely as Don Caio does.’

’But there was something about it that felt... very nice.’

’Very... right.’

Hesitantly, her hands rose until they cupped his face once more.

Jordan’s eyes widened in quiet surprise. Before he could say anything, Aren leaned down herself, and a soft murmur escaped her.

"...Yes."

Their lips met in a soft kiss that felt almost innocent.

Aren drew back only slightly before pressing her lips against his again, deepening the kiss with careful sweetness.

There was no urgency in it, only the quiet intimacy of their breaths mingling.

Yet every tender brush of her lips made Jordan feel increasingly lightheaded, as though no gunshot had ever been fired, no surgery had taken place, and none of the pain, fear, or tension of the day had ever existed.

For several long moments, he couldn’t tell whether it was the lingering effects of the anesthesia or the kiss itself that had left him melting so completely into her.

He only knew that he’d wanted this for far too long.

And now that he’d finally had a taste of it, he wanted more.

His hand slipped into her hair, gently drawing her closer until almost no space remained between them. His mouth parted, allowing their kiss to deepen as their tongues met.

The subtle movement sent a shiver through Aren, and her breathing grew heavier as she responded in kind.

For a long while, they remained wrapped in that quiet intimacy, their lips and breaths finding an unhurried rhythm.

Eventually, however, Jordan reluctantly pulled away.

He suddenly remembered that Aren had only recently recovered from her fever.

"Ariana..." He cupped the side of her face, searching her expression with lingering affection. "...Do you have to leave soon? You probably need to rest. You’ve had a long day."

Aren leaned into the large hand against her cheek, a trace of disappointment crossing her face at the sudden end to the kiss.

"...Yes," she answered quietly. "I’ve already made everyone outside wait for me long enough. I can’t keep them waiting any longer."

A bitter smile touched Jordan’s lips.

"Guess I can’t drive you home today. Can’t pick you up tomorrow, either."

"Don’t worry about that." Aren laughed softly. "I’ll still stop by the bakery on my way here. Can I get you a cheesecake?"

Jordan laughed as well.

She had become so addicted to cheesecake that he was beginning to feel as though he’d developed the same addiction, simply from watching her enjoy it.

"Cheesecake sounds good," he said quietly, "but there’s something I want more."

Aren looked at him curiously, eager to know what else she could bring him.

"What is it?"

The undisguised eagerness on her face coaxed another soft laugh out of him.

"You," he said, drawing her closer once more.

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