Chapter 226: "One Burden At A Time"

Caio stood in the garage, regarding the side of his car with profound displeasure.

An ugly scrape marred the bodywork, accompanied by a dent that no amount of polishing could conceal.

Both were souvenirs of the night he’d picked Aren up from the Castellano Club, when she’d innocently asked him what a threesome was. The question had startled him so badly that he’d swerved straight into a streetlamp.

Biscuit had nearly launched himself out of Aren’s lap in terror, and the poor creature had remained visibly shaken for some time afterward. Fortunately, Aren herself had emerged entirely unharmed, both physically and emotionally.

Caio couldn’t say the same.

He’d spent the next twenty minutes explaining, with increasing desperation, why she should never search for visual references to the term, let alone consider participating in such an activity.

And then there was the car.

It wasn’t merely his favorite vehicle. It was a vintage model he’d inherited from his father. Although Leo had gone to considerable lengths to find someone capable of repairing it, the result was still nowhere near its original condition.

Caio inspected the repaired panel again, his jaw tightening.

"This is the best they could do?"

Behind him, Leo had already braced himself for the inevitable shouting.

"Unfortunately so, Boss. They’ve done everything they can."

Caio continued staring at the car as though sheer resentment might persuade the dent to disappear. Eventually, he finally accepted that further glaring would accomplish nothing.

"Fine."

He turned away.

"Was the dog happy with the puppy spa?"

Grateful for the change of subject, Leo nodded.

"He seemed very happy, Boss. Ate quite a lot when he came home, too. Spent most of the evening barking and running around. He doesn’t seem traumatized by the car incident anymore."

"Good."

Caio made a mental note to tell Aren. She’d been concerned about Biscuit, and knowing the little bastard had recovered would undoubtedly make her happy.

"What about our plans to visit Malakor?"

"The private jet is ready, as are our estates and contacts there. We’ve also kept the information to a handful of trusted personnel, so neither Mister Cesare nor your aunt should have any reason to suspect anything."

"And the teams assigned to the Castellano residence?"

Leo’s expression tightened.

He cleared his throat delicately.

"Boss, I must reiterate my objection to plotting the murder of another House’s heir. Particularly when it’s been less than a month since you were considering killing a different one."

Caio’s expression darkened at the mere thought of Jeremiah Castellano.

"He deserves every fucking bullet."

"Boss."

This time, Leo’s voice carried a distinct warning. Unfortunately, Caio had already turned away, displaying his usual remarkable ability to become selectively deaf whenever Leo raised a reasonable objection.

"We leave for Malakor once business here is settled." He headed toward the exit. "Now, excuse me. My wife’s waiting for me in my bed."

Leo stared after his boss.

For several seconds, that last statement distracted him so completely that his objections to the planned assassination deserted him.

’...Wife?’

Before he could ask for clarification, Caio had left the garage and was making his way toward the west wing.

─ •?• ─ ? ─ •?• ─

The bedroom was dimly lit when Caio entered. Aren lay on his bed in silk pajamas, a pillow gathered loosely against her chest.

Caio slowed as he approached.

Usually, she noticed him the moment he entered and turned to greet him, but tonight she remained unusually still, her gaze fixed on the dark window.

"Aren."

He sat beside her and gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.

"You came home late tonight. Now you look troubled. Did something happen?"

Only then did she turn toward him, blinking as though she’d just realized he was there.

"Oh. I was just... thinking."

"About?"

She hesitated, looking into his eyes without answering. Beneath her usual composure, he noticed an unfamiliar sadness.

"About what might have happened if you hadn’t figured out who I was when I first arrived in this world."

His hand stilled against her hair.

Aren briefly lowered her gaze before continuing.

"I wonder how long it would have been before anyone called me Aren again." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Eventually... I might even have forgotten what it felt like to hear my own name."

Caio leaned into her touch.

He understood what she meant, or at least enough to feel something unpleasant tighten in his chest. He’d grown so accustomed to calling her Aren in private that he’d almost forgotten how much that small privilege meant to her.

"You’re a little melancholy tonight, aren’t you?" He leaned down and kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment. "Did something go wrong at the exhibition?"

"Well, something did happen today. But actually... something else troubled me more."

She slipped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. The gesture was affectionate, but he could tell she was also seeking the comfort of having him near while she worked out how to explain.

"I think... Jordan is becoming suspicious about who I really am."

Caio froze.

He lifted his head to study her face, searching for any sign of alarm.

Strangely, she didn’t look particularly frightened. If anything, she seemed more concerned about what to do than about the possibility of being discovered.

"Smart little punk."

He exhaled irritably.

Of course Jordan Marchetti would eventually notice something was wrong. The bastard spent far too much time around her, watching her with those lovesick eyes.

Caio’s first instinct was to consider how best to keep Jordan’s mouth shut. Then he noticed the thoughtful expression lingering on Aren’s face, and his irritation eased slightly.

"Are you going to tell him?"

Her fingers wandered into his hair, absently combing through the soft strands as she considered her answer.

Although Isidore had somehow found out, he’d never shown much interest in who she was, and she hadn’t disclosed anything to him.

Choosing to tell Jordan without speaking to Caio first felt different. It felt like breaking her promise.

"I want to," she said at last. "But... I promised you this secret would stay between us."

Caio said nothing at first, content to let her keep playing with his hair.

He knew what the promise meant to her. She could be surprisingly literal about such things, reluctant to break her word even when doing so might make her life easier.

Eventually, he shifted onto the bed beside her and drew her into his arms.

"Tell him."

Aren turned toward him, visibly confused.

"You... want me to?"

"Mm-hm." A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. "With any luck, he’ll decide you’re completely insane, get scared, and run away. That would do me a tremendous favor."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You’re absolutely unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn’t a compliment."

"I’ll take it anyway."

Aren gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look before pulling him closer and burying her face against his chest.

"All right," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I’ve shared one burden with you. Now I want one in return."

Caio’s expression stiffened.

’I should have known.’

The little menace remembered their agreement perfectly well, and now she intended to enforce it.

"Sly little thing."

"I want one," she insisted, refusing to be distracted.

He regarded her for a moment before surrendering with a resigned sigh.

"Fine." His hand settled in her hair, stroking it with an affection that undermined his exasperated tone. "Leo’s found out where Liviana is."

Aren immediately lifted her head.

"Where?"

"Malakor." Her sudden alertness amused him. "Since my brother’s there, I think there’s a good chance she went to see him."

Aren lowered her gaze, considering the information. If Liviana had traveled to Malakor, where Caio’s brother was already staying, the possibility of a connection was worth investigating.

’That would make sense.’

Then another detail occurred to her.

’Come to think of it... isn’t Jordan’s mother there, too?’

She was still working through the possible implications when a large hand slid down her back. Before she could react, that hand settled firmly over her ass and gave it an appreciative squeeze.

"Mmm, look what I’ve found."

Aren stiffened in surprise.

Apparently satisfied that their exchange of burdens was complete, Caio had already lowered his head toward her chest.

"Is it just me," he murmured against the silk of her pajamas, "or is your ass softer today?"

The sudden intimacy sent a shiver through her. Her body responded before she could organize a proper objection, leaning into the warmth of his hand.

"Hah—w-wait a minute."

Her fingers tightened in his hair as she tried to draw his attention back to her face, but he seemed considerably more interested in what lay beneath her pajamas.

"I’m... I’m not finished asking."

"That’s unfortunate."

"Caio."

He merely hummed in acknowledgment, entirely unrepentant.

"W-what about the attacks on... on your men?" she managed, her breathing growing uneven as his lips brushed her chest. "Have you made any progress? D-do you need my help?"

By then, Caio had decided he’d indulged her questions quite enough for one evening. His fingers found the first button of her pajama top and slipped it free, then another, exposing the soft curve of her breast to the cool bedroom air.

"Caio—"

"You don’t get to hear about that."

His mouth closed gently around her nipple, drawing a startled gasp from her as his tongue teased the sensitive skin.

"Only one burden at a time."