Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 175

Chapter 175: "How Was The Food?"

Aren’s nimble fingers worked their way through the knots of the cloth bundle, carefully loosening each fold until the container inside was revealed.

She lifted the lid and arranged everything neatly in front of Isidore.

"This is all for you, Master Accardi," she announced proudly. "I’ve already had dinner before I came, so please enjoy!"

Isidore stared down at the food without blinking.

Several pieces of beef floated among potatoes chopped into wildly uneven shapes and sizes.

Some had nearly fallen apart, while others were thick enough to resemble small stones.

The broth itself was cloudy and brown rather than the clear, polished soup he was accustomed to seeing, and a faint sheen of oil shimmered across its surface.

’Is she certain this is edible?’

"It looks like a wartime ration," he observed flatly. "The sort served in a tin."

Aren’s expression crumpled with embarrassment.

"I... I’ll try to improve the presentation next time."

Then another concern occurred to her, and she glanced around the library.

"But... is it really all right to eat in here? I don’t think Mrs. Cabrera would be very happy about it."

"The Cabrera family works for House Accardi," Isidore replied evenly. "She’s known me since I was young. She’s let me eat in here plenty of times. She won’t object today."

The answer immediately conjured an image in Aren’s mind.

A much younger Isidore.

Perhaps sitting in this very library with books piled around him, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading.

Maybe he had even lain on the floor with a book held above his head, because he had been too engrossed to bother sitting properly.

’He must have been so cute.’

The thought struck her so suddenly that warmth rushed into her cheeks. She quickly turned toward the bookshelves, pretending to be fascinated by the titles there.

Across the table, Isidore finally reached for the spoon she had prepared for him.

He stared at the stew for several more seconds, and then, with the solemnity of a man approaching an uncertain scientific experiment, lifted the spoon.

’If life gave me this supposedly brilliant brain, it should at least protect me from food poisoning.’

His expression remained perfectly impassive as he dipped the spoon into the broth, deliberately taking only the liquid at first.

He brought it to his lips and tasted it, then waited.

Nothing happened.

No immediate regret. No strange aftertaste.

After another few seconds, he dipped the spoon in again, this time scooping up a piece of potato and a small piece of beef.

The moment he began chewing, however, his eyes widened.

The appearance of the dish had suggested one thing. The taste suggested something else entirely.

As the youngest son of one of the wealthiest families among the Ten Houses, Isidore had grown up surrounded by the finest food money could buy.

From childhood onward, he had been exposed to delicate sauces, expensive ingredients, and flavors refined down to the smallest detail.

This was none of those things.

It was rich and earthy, heavy with spices and warmth.

It tasted like food made by people who couldn’t afford to waste anything, people who had learned to turn inexpensive ingredients into something nourishing because they had no other choice.

And yet, beneath all of that hardship, there was something comforting.

Something that made a person feel, if only for a moment, that perhaps things would be all right.

For one long moment, he simply chewed, his attention drifting somewhere far beyond the library.

He couldn’t remember the last time a meal had made him stop and think about the person who prepared it.

Across from him, Aren was secretly watching.

Her gaze kept darting toward him despite her attempts to pretend otherwise.

She was waiting for some sign, some flicker of expression that would tell her whether he liked what she had made, yet his face remained as unreadable as ever.

At last, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, she gathered her courage.

"Master Accardi..." Her voice was tentative. "How is it?"

Isidore paused only long enough to answer.

"It’s good."

Aren’s entire face brightened.

"Really?" she asked eagerly. "It’s not bad?"

Isidore offered no further explanation. He simply took another bite, then another, before finally asking,

"What else can you make?"

"I can make stew with goat, mutton, or lentils," she answered proudly. "If you like skewers, I can make those too. I’ve also been learning how to bake, but... I’ve had very little success until recently."

Then she suddenly remembered something else.

"Oh! But my ice cream has received a lot of positive feedback. I’m actually launching a new collection this Sunday at the Lombardi Hotel. Would you like to come and try it?"

Isidore looked up briefly.

"Sunday?"

"Six in the evening. We’re serving the ice cream as part of the full-course menu, but I promise it’ll be completely free for you. You’ve helped me so much with preparing for Thursday’s interview."

Isidore, naturally, cared very little about the free meal.

"I have a meeting around then," he replied simply.

The brightness in Aren’s expression dimmed.

’How can she possibly fall asleep in the middle of a library like this?’

’What if I hadn’t asked Mrs. Cabrera to clear the entire library for this meeting?’

’Good thing I had no intention of taking her to a hotel today.’

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