Chapter 167: "Do You Even Know What ’Dating’ Is?"

The drive from the Marchetti compound back to the Sartori estate was anything but comfortable.

Caio sat beside Aren in the back of the car, their fingers intertwined loosely over his lap.

Neither of them spoke much.

Their gazes remained fixed somewhere beyond the windows, following the golden streetlights and glamorous avenues of Borgata as they slipped past in a steady blur.

From the outside, the silence between them might have seemed peaceful.

Aren knew better.

She could feel the weight lingering in the air between them, invisible but unmistakable.

A faint crease had remained between Caio’s brows ever since she had asked to stay behind and wait for Jordan to wake after surgery.

He hadn’t said anything about it. He hadn’t reprimanded her or even raised his voice, but somehow, that only made his silence feel heavier.

Several times, her gaze drifted toward him.

Several times, she hesitated before looking away again.

’Did I do something wrong? Did I make him angry?’

’Did I make him wait for me for too long? Is he tired because of me?’

Yet his fingers were still woven tightly with hers, his thumb occasionally brushing against the back of her hand.

That small gesture reassured her more than words probably could have.

’Maybe he’s not angry.’

’He’s probably just exhausted after everything that happened today.’

With that thought, Aren tucked the rest of her questions away for later.

Once they returned home, she would find a way to help him relax. Perhaps that would be enough to ease whatever heaviness had settled over him.

The car finally came to a stop, and the silence remained between them until they reached the corridor leading to their suites.

Only then did Caio turn toward her and give a small nod in the direction of his room.

"Wanna rest tonight in my suite or yours?"

Aren brightened almost immediately, as though she had been waiting for him to ask that question all evening.

Her decision came easily.

Whenever Caio stayed in her suite, he often had to walk back to his own room to retrieve something he’d forgotten — a pajama shirt, toiletries, or whatever else he needed.

After the exhausting day they’d just endured, the last thing she wanted was to make him keep moving between their rooms.

"Let’s rest in your suite tonight." She clasped her free hand over the one holding hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You go inside first. I’ll get my pajamas and come over."

He gave a small nod.

"Mmm. Grab whatever you need and come."

His voice dipped slightly as he added,

"I’ll get the bathtub ready."

─ •✧• ─ ✿ ─ •✧• ─

By the time Aren entered the bathroom, the room was already thick with warm steam.

The bathtub was filled halfway to the rim, and Caio was already sitting inside it.

He had leaned back against the tub, both arms resting comfortably along its edges, his expression considerably more relaxed than it had been during the drive.

One hand lifted, beckoning her closer.

"You need help with your clothes?"

The suggestion immediately sent a warm flush creeping over Aren’s cheeks.

"Ah... no."

She shook her head quickly.

"I can... remove them myself."

Her shoulders drew inward as her embarrassment intensified.

"Just... look the other way. Don’t look this way."

Caio let out a quiet chuckle. She was acting as though he hadn’t helped her out of her clothes only a few hours earlier.

"Then hurry up and come in," he said teasingly. "Before I get out and remove them myself."

He made absolutely no effort to turn away, of course.

Instead, the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back farther, looking entirely too comfortable with the prospect of watching her undress.

Aren could only sigh beneath his amused gaze.

’How is he so comfortable being naked in front of me?’

’At least he’s acting normal again.’

Shyly, she turned her back to him and began removing her clothes piece by piece.

Every movement felt awkward under the awareness of his gaze.

She could almost feel his eyes following her as each garment slipped away, making her skin grow warmer with every passing second.

Once she was naked, she carefully folded the remains of her clothes and placed them neatly to one side before approaching the bathtub.

Her knees had barely touched the rim when Caio reached out, caught her wrist, and gave it a gentle tug.

A moment later, she was in the tub with him.

Warm water rose to just beneath her breasts — not hot enough to sting her skin, but warm enough to soothe the fatigue that had had settled into every muscle of her body.

Caio pulled her closer until her bare back rested against his chest. His chin settled over her shoulder, and his lips brushed lightly against her earlobe.

"Is the water warm enough?"

"Yes." Aren nodded slowly, relaxing farther into him. "It’s hot and so relaxing. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this all day."

A quiet chuckle rumbled against her ear. He knew exactly what she meant.

After everything that had happened — the Trials, the confrontation, the shooting, and the hours spent waiting outside the operating room — being alone with her in the quiet of his bathroom felt like finally being allowed to breathe.

Reaching for the shower gel, he pumped a small amount into his palm and rubbed it between his hands.

"Let me wash you."

Aren gave a small nod.

It wasn’t even the first time he had helped her wash, yet somehow the familiarity did nothing to lessen her shyness.

If anything, tonight it felt strangely new.

His soapy palms moved gently over her skin, traveling along the curve of her neck and across her shoulders before sliding down her back.

The warm water and fragrant lather softened the tension in her muscles as his hands continued lower, eventually settling over the swell of her breasts.

He massaged them in slow, gentle circles, while pressing soft kisses along the side of her cheek.

Eventually, his gaze fell to the bruises scattered across her skin, tracing the purple marks along her abdomen.

"You gathered some new bruises," he murmured.

Then his eyes moved toward the fresh wound on her forearm — the shallow cut Jordan’s machete had left behind during the final duel. A nurse had cleaned and bandaged it while they waited outside the surgical room.

"And a new wound, too."

"I’ve tried to be careful," Aren murmured, shivering slightly beneath the slow rhythm of his hands against her breasts.

When his fingers closed gently around her nipples and gave them the faintest tug, she leaned more heavily against his chest, her breath catching softly in her throat.

"Mm-hm... Caio." Her words came out ragged. "Those aren’t the only areas that need washing."

A soft chuckle rumbled through him.

He seemed to savor every second of her struggle to remain composed.

"I know."

Reluctantly, he withdrew his hands from her breasts and let them travel lower instead, which brought Aren a small measure of relief.

But then something in his voice changed.

"There’s something I need to ask you."

Aren glanced over her shoulder, studying his expression.

The teasing warmth had disappeared from his features.

The faint shadow she’d noticed during the drive had returned to his eyes, and his voice had dropped into a seriousness that immediately made her wonder what could possibly be troubling him now.

"What is it?" she asked, lowering her own voice.

Caio hesitated for another second before asking,

"What sort of bet did you have with Jordan Marchetti?"

Aren’s eyes widened in surprise.

Of all the things she had expected him to ask, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

"Oh... the bet."

A quiet laugh escaped her as she turned forward again, settling more comfortably against him, completely unaware of how intently Caio was listening to every word.

"It was just a silly bet we made before the Trials. Jordan said that if I managed to beat him, he’d teach me every baking recipe he knew."

Caio hummed softly.

"And if he won?"

"That part is a little strange." She tilted her head, amusement coloring her voice as she recalled it. "He didn’t ask me to do anything for him. He only asked to take me to places we both like in Borgata. Dinner... parks... cafés..."

She paused, looking faintly puzzled.

"But he never called them outings."

She turned toward Caio again, and a bright smile spread across her face.

"He keeps calling it ’dating’ instead."

Caio froze.

The smile vanished from his face as though it were never there.

For one long moment, he simply stared at her as though she’d just casually revealed something of earth-shattering importance — a revelation so unexpected that his lips started trembling faintly.

"Aren."

He swallowed, suddenly dreading the answer to a question he hadn’t even asked yet.

"Do you even know what ’dating’ is?"

Aren’s expression immediately brightened with relief. She’d been wanting to ask him exactly that.

"Honestly... I’ve been wanting to ask you about that all day." Her gaze wandered to the ceiling curiously. "Is ’dating’ some sort of social ritual in this world?"

Caio’s eyes widened.

For several seconds, he looked utterly speechless before he placed both hands on her shoulders, gently turning her until she was facing him fully.

"Aren..." His expression was completely serious now. "Where you come from... don’t people date each other?"

"Um..." Aren thought about it carefully, searching through her memories. "If such a thing existed in my world, I would have known about it."

Caio’s expression grew increasingly incredulous.

"Then do they get married at least?" he asked, with considerably more urgency. "Surely they have to get married, don’t they?"