Chapter 236: "I Can Do It"

The atmosphere changed at once.

Mister Cavallo was still smiling, apparently confident that his enthusiasm would be enough to carry everyone through the announcement. Unfortunately, the men gathered around him seemed to have taken it rather differently.

Caio was the first to turn toward him, his expression hardening with such immediate hostility that Cavallo’s cheerful smile suddenly looked rather ill-advised.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Only moments ago, he had seemed almost willing to tolerate Jeremiah’s continued existence. Now, judging by the look on his face, someone else had apparently volunteered to join the list of people he sincerely wanted dead.

Nearby, Jordan was having considerably more trouble containing himself. He looked from Cavallo to the Castellano brothers, trying to determine whether any of them understood what they were proposing.

"Excuse me, Mister Cavallo?" His voice rose before he could stop it. "Have you all lost your fucking minds?! Ten opponents is already insane! What exactly are you hoping to see? A woman getting beaten half to death by a crowd of men? Is that what passes for entertainment around here?"

He looked ready to continue, but Jeremiah stepped smoothly between him and the others, raising one hand in a placating gesture.

"Ah, now, now. Jordan, my old friend. Why don’t you let me sort this out? It’s my responsibility, after all."

Then he turned toward his brothers with his usual dazzling smile, although the warmth behind it had diminished considerably.

"My dear brothers, I’m deeply touched that you care so much about my business. But might I ask what inspired this wonderfully inconvenient proposal? Particularly when neither of you thought to consult me beforehand?"

Hezekiah and Zachariah exchanged a glance, then both burst out laughing.

"Why, because of what we heard about Miss Lombardi’s performance at the Summit!" Hezekiah explained. "We heard she charged straight at twelve armed men without the slightest fear and knocked every last one of them unconscious."

"Exactly!" Zachariah chimed in, looking equally delighted. "And if she can handle twelve men carrying weapons, surely fifteen unarmed fighters shouldn’t be much trouble?"

"And besides," Hezekiah continued before Jeremiah could answer, "some of our clients have recently been accusing you of staging her matches. If she defeats fifteen fighters from an entirely separate club, that should go a long way toward proving her abilities are genuine. It would help restore our reputation too. Don’t you think so?"

Jeremiah’s smile widened.

"Oh, that Summit rumor."

He gave a light chuckle.

"Well, since neither of you was present, allow me to clarify. Miss Lombardi here only dealt with approximately half those men. The remainder were handled by our own people, so—"

"I can do it."

Jeremiah stopped speaking.

Every head turned toward Aren, who had been listening to the discussion with her hands clasped neatly before her.

She seemed unaffected by the hostility gathering around her, although she had been following the exchange closely enough to understand what was being proposed.

"I accept the challenge of fifteen opponents," she added quietly.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Jordan recovered first. He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice in an attempt to keep his concern between them, although the urgency in his expression was impossible to conceal.

"Hey, are you absolutely sure? That’s fifteen men. I don’t trust this club to inspect its fighters properly. Someone could smuggle in a weapon. They could use it against you while you’re distracted. Fifteen makes the risk even worse."

Aren looked up at him with a small, reassuring smile. As far as she was concerned, the difference between ten opponents and fifteen didn’t fundamentally change what she needed to do.

"Don’t worry, Jordan," she assured him, her voice quiet but certain. "Even if that happens, I’m confident I can handle it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have accepted."

Jordan searched her face, still deeply dissatisfied with the arrangement.

He wanted to argue that confidence alone couldn’t eliminate the possibility of an accident, especially when the people organizing the match were already behaving suspiciously. Yet he also recognized the particular steadiness in her expression.

He’d seen it often enough by now to know that she wasn’t merely trying to reassure him. She’d simply considered the risk and genuinely believed it was manageable.

Nearby, Caio studied Aren in silence.

His concern was less visible than Jordan’s, but it was there all the same.

He knew better than most how capable Aren was. That didn’t mean he liked the prospect of fifteen men attacking her in a poorly regulated underground club, but when he saw her expression, some of his unease subsided.

For now, he chose not to interfere.

Hezekiah and Zachariah, meanwhile, looked positively delighted by Aren’s acceptance. Mister Cavallo appeared equally pleased, his earlier discomfort vanishing beneath a fresh burst of enthusiasm.

"That’s wonderful!" Cavallo exclaimed. "Then allow me to go and get ready—"

"There’s one condition," Aren interrupted calmly. "If I’m fighting fifteen opponents, Mister Cavallo, I’d like to revise the financial arrangement."

Cavallo blinked.

The mention of money brought an immediate change to his expression, although he recovered quickly enough to maintain something resembling a welcoming smile.

"Oh? And what condition would that be, Miss Lombardi?"

"The current revenue split between your establishment and Mister Jeremiah Castellano is fifty-fifty," Aren continued in the same calm tone. "Since you’re proposing such a significant change at the last minute, I request that the split be adjusted to twenty percent for your club and eighty percent for Mister Castellano."

Cavallo’s smile faltered.

"T-twenty-eighty?"

"Yes."

Aren nodded, apparently finding the adjustment perfectly reasonable.

"That’s my only condition. Do you accept?"

Cavallo looked deeply put out.

He’d been anticipating a profitable event, particularly with Ariana Lombardi appearing in a match spectacular enough to attract considerable attention. Giving away another thirty percent of his share was hardly an appealing prospect.

His lips parted as he searched for a suitable objection, but before he could produce one, his gaze shifted toward Hezekiah and Zachariah.

Both brothers gave him the slightest nod. The gesture was so discreet that anyone less attentive might have overlooked it entirely.

Cavallo, however, seemed to understand immediately. Whatever reluctance he’d felt disappeared, and his smile returned with such enthusiasm that one might have thought Aren had just offered him a more generous arrangement rather than a substantially worse one.

"Well, of course, Miss Lombardi!" he declared cheerfully. "Twenty-eighty it is! It’s an honor simply to have you fighting at our humble establishment. Money is hardly the issue!"

"Thank you," Aren replied pleasantly. "Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’d like to go to the dressing room to get ready."

"Of course! Of course!" Cavallo gestured toward the corridor, eager to move matters along. "I won’t take up any more of your time. Come, Miss Lombardi. Allow me to show you to the dressing room."

Aren followed him without further discussion. Jordan went with her, Biscuit still nestled in his arms, while Caio and his entourage moved after them.

Jeremiah, however, remained where he was for another moment.

He hadn’t interrupted Aren’s negotiation, partly because she’d handled it rather beautifully. The additional revenue was certainly welcome, and he couldn’t help appreciating how naturally she’d turned an inconvenient proposal into a more profitable arrangement for him.

More importantly, however, he hadn’t missed the brief exchange between Cavallo and his brothers.

The glance toward Hezekiah and Zachariah, their almost imperceptible nods, and Cavallo’s sudden willingness to surrender such a substantial portion of his earnings had told Jeremiah considerably more than any of them probably intended.

’Ah. So that’s how it is.’

’These two little snakes have arranged something with that Cavallo rat, haven’t they?’

Still, Jeremiah had no intention of letting either brother know how much he’d noticed. Instead, he turned toward Hezekiah and Zachariah with a brilliant smile, his manner as affectionate and carefree as ever.

"Well, brothers! I must say, that was an excellent idea. Look how much money I’m making now!"

He gave them a cheerful little wave and turned toward the corridor.

"I suppose I’ll see you inside? I’m quite looking forward to seeing how this turns out."