Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93: "Bread Or Cupcake?"

The meeting was drawing to a close by the time Aren and Jordan finally arrived.

Inside the grand office, Eduardo sat opposite Caio at the head of the conference table. The papers spread neatly between them suggested they had just concluded a highly successful restocking agreement.

For reasons Aren couldn’t possibly understand, the moment she stepped through the doorway carrying the bakery box, the entire room seemed to freeze.

Conversations died mid-sentence.

Every gaze turned toward her.

Or, more precisely, toward the box in her hands.

An uncanny sense of collective déjà vu rippled through the room.

In a single heartbeat, every man present was reminded of Ariana Lombardi’s unforgettable entrance at the Summit, when she had marched into the room carrying a cupcake box as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Caio, naturally, was the first to recover.

"...I see you had a productive day baking," he observed, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at one corner of his mouth.

Aren brightened immediately. Stepping forward, she proudly presented the box.

"Yes! I made plenty of bread and cupcakes today..." She hesitated almost imperceptibly before adding with unwavering conviction, "...all by myself."

She carefully opened the lid.

"Which one would you like to try? I promise the bread is the best I’ve ever made. It’s nothing like the ones I baked back at the estate."

Caio couldn’t help smiling at the earnest pride shining in her eyes.

"One slice of bread now," he said. "Save three cupcakes for me later."

Aren beamed.

The very first time she had offered him cupcakes, he had rejected them without a second thought. Now, he was specifically asking her to save three.

"Of course!"

She happily prepared a plate, arranging a generous slice of bread before mentally setting aside three cupcakes just for him.

Standing a step behind her, Jordan lifted an irritated eyebrow.

"I don’t recall you being a fan of sweets, Sartori."

Caio cast him a cool, indifferent glance.

"It seems you don’t know me that well."

His attention returned to the bread.

Visually, it was already leagues beyond the dense, overworked loaves Aren had previously subjected him to.

That alone surprised him.

Then he took a bite.

He stopped chewing.

For the briefest moment, the room faded into the background. The crust shattered with a satisfying crispness before giving way to an astonishingly airy, buttery crumb.

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

Across from him, Aren searched his face with mounting anticipation, trying to decipher every subtle shift in his expression.

"So...?" she asked hopefully. "Is it good?"

Caio slowly shifted his gaze toward Jordan.

’This brat actually taught her to bake this well... in a single afternoon?’

An intensely irritating sensation lodged itself somewhere beneath his ribs.

He cleared his throat almost imperceptibly. There was absolutely no chance he was going to compliment Jordan Marchetti to his face.

"It’s..." He chose his words with obvious reluctance. "...better than before."

Aren studied his face carefully.

This time, he wasn’t forcing himself to chew. He hadn’t paused awkwardly halfway through swallowing. Most importantly, he no longer looked like a man politely enduring culinary torture.

A radiant smile bloomed across her face as she turned toward Eduardo and everyone else gathered around the table.

"And all of you?" she asked cheerfully. "Would anyone else like some?"

Several soldiers and advisors shifted almost immediately, their interest only thinly disguised.

Eduardo, however, remained perfectly still. His severe gaze lingered on the bakery box before slowly rising to Aren’s face.

His expression tightened.

"...Isn’t that box from my kitchen?"

Aren nodded without the slightest trace of guilt.

"Yes, indeed."

Eduardo’s eyes narrowed another fraction.

"And you said you made everything?"

"Yes."

She smiled with complete innocence.

"I baked them all by myself."

She placed just the slightest emphasis on the final words.

Eduardo seemed remarkably uninterested in the explanation itself.

If anything, it only irritated him further.

He had hired this woman to evaluate prototype firearms. Instead, she had somehow ended up occupying his kitchen, using ingredients from his pantry to bake pastries.

The entire situation bordered on the absurd. Still, she had also persuaded Caio Sartori to purchase several weapon platforms Eduardo himself had quietly considered superior for years.

Perhaps this much eccentricity could be tolerated.

Just this once.

"It had better be good," Eduardo muttered.

Aren tilted the box toward him.

"Bread or cupcake?"

Eduardo regarded both options for several long moments.

"...Cupcake."

She immediately selected one crowned with a perfectly piped swirl of frosting and placed it into his hand.

Eduardo accepted it with the solemnity of a man preparing for battle.

He took one decisive bite.

Then froze.

Not a word escaped him. Yet something shifted inside his perpetually severe expression — so subtly that almost no one noticed.

Almost.

Jordan noticed immediately.

Still lingering near the doorway, he caught the nearly imperceptible softening around his father’s eyes as Eduardo silently took a second bite.

Then, almost self-consciously, Eduardo angled his shoulder away from the room, as though hoping none of his soldiers would witness him quietly enjoying a cupcake.

Jordan stared.

’He actually...’

His throat tightened.

’He actually likes something I baked.’

’Is she seriously spoiling him this much?’

New Message (1)

A spark of excitement lit her face as she immediately opened the encrypted message.

Signorina,

New mission.

Tomorrow. 5:00 PM. My office.

Bring a ball gown. Dark colored.

— I.

Aren blinked.

’A ball gown?’

Her attention immediately shifted toward the wardrobe occupying nearly an entire wall of her suite.

Crossing the room, she pulled open its heavy doors.

Rows upon rows of exquisite evening gowns greeted her — luxurious designs chosen with meticulous care, every one of them purchased by Caio.

Her gaze drifted thoughtfully across them.

Crimson.

Navy.

Midnight black.

At last, it settled on one particular gown.

A deep, elegant shade of viridian.

Her expression brightened instantly. She reached out, letting her fingertips glide across the rich velvet.

The gown was elegant.

Luxurious.

And, perhaps most importantly...

’This color matches Master Accardi’s eyes perfectly.’

’I wonder if he’ll like it.’

The thought filled her with quiet satisfaction. Then another thought surfaced.

A far more dangerous one.

’...Should I tell Don Caio that I need to go to Accardi Tower tomorrow?’

Instantly, memories crashed into her mind.

Caio and Isidore tearing into each other in the lobby. Tailored suits soaked in blood. An entire lobby collapsing beneath the sheer force of their mutual hostility.

Aren’s expression immediately darkened.

’...Nope.’

’Definitely texting him after I’ve already left the estate tomorrow.’

’That is the better option.’

Having reached what she believed was a perfectly reasonable tactical conclusion, she carefully returned the gown to its place.

Just then, a gentle knock sounded at the door, followed by Caio’s voice from the hallway.

"Aren? You ready?"

Startled, Aren hurriedly tucked the device back into its hidden compartment.

"Ah, yes!"

She hurried toward the door.

"I’m coming!"