Chapter 178: "Would You Sing Me That Song?"

Caio couldn’t remember the last time he’d walked through the back garden.

The evening breeze greeted him the moment he stepped outside, cool and fragrant, carrying the scent of damp earth and flowering plants through the grounds.

It was a scent he had once known intimately. As a boy, he’d spent so many afternoons wandering these paths that he could have named every tree and flowerbed without looking.

Somehow, years had passed without him noticing how completely he’d stopped coming here.

Then he saw the cherry blossom tree.

It still stood exactly where it always had, though it had grown larger than the version in his memory.

Its branches stretched farther now, heavy with blossoms that trembled softly in the evening breeze.

For a moment, Caio could almost see the seventeen-year-old boy he’d once been standing beneath it, staring upward in wonder as a tiny blue bird landed among the branches.

But tonight, there was no blue bird.

There was Aren.

She sat beneath the spreading branches with her back against the trunk, Biscuit sprawled happily across her lap.

She had taken both of Biscuit’s front paws in her hands and was clapping them together with complete seriousness, apparently engaged in some game Caio couldn’t begin to understand.

From a distance, he couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing.

He could only tell that Biscuit looked profoundly confused.

Aren noticed his footsteps long before he reached her. She turned and found him approaching in measured strides, a bottle of white wine in one hand and two crystal glasses in the other.

The small smile already on her face blossomed into something brilliant.

"Caio?" she called happily. "You finished dinner already?"

He quickened his pace despite himself, though he made no attempt to let her notice.

"I managed to eat some."

That was technically true.

He’d managed to force down a few bites, before abandoning the dining room entirely and coming here with the wine Mrs. Pecora had retrieved for him.

Stopping beside Aren, he lowered himself onto the grass.

"What are you doing?" he asked, deliberately keeping his voice casual.

Aren immediately brightened and lifted Biscuit slightly by his front legs.

"I’m teaching Biscuit a song."

Caio stared at the dog.

His brows rose.

"A song?"

Aren nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes."

An amused smirk slowly appeared as he regarded Biscuit with open skepticism.

"This little thing knows how to sing?"

Both Aren and Biscuit instantly looked offended.

Aren’s brows drew together as she clutched Biscuit protectively against her chest.

"Of course Biscuit knows how to sing!" she protested with absolute conviction.

She carefully placed Biscuit on the grass, then immediately began smoothing his fur as though preparing a professional performer for the stage.

"Come on, Biscuit." She gave him an encouraging pat. "Don Caio doesn’t believe you can sing. Sing it for him."

Biscuit, who had looked thoroughly bewildered throughout what Caio now understood had been a musical lesson, suddenly straightened his back. His tail thumped enthusiastically against the grass, as though determined to defend his artistic integrity.

He puffed out his chest, threw back his head, and, after one dramatic moment of silence, unleashed his masterpiece.

"Awooooo—oo—oo—rrruff!"

Caio stared.

"Arf! Arf! Awoooo!"

Aren watched with breathless concentration.

"Rrr—ruff!"

The performance continued.

"Arf—awoooo!"

"Yip!"

When Biscuit finally finished, he spun around, leaped back onto Aren’s lap, and barked excitedly, apparently applauding himself.

Aren responded with exactly the enthusiasm he’d hoped for.

"Good job, Biscuit!" She clapped so rapidly that her hands blurred. "I knew you could do it! See? It wasn’t that difficult at all!"

Caio sat beside them, wearing the perfectly blank expression of a man who had just witnessed something he had no intention of attempting to understand.

When both of them finally looked at him expectantly, he stared at the dog, then at Aren.

"That was... effortful."

Biscuit immediately fixed him with an offended glare over Aren’s shoulder.

Caio recognized that look.

The little bastard was preparing for an encore.

Before another concert could begin, Caio placed the wine bottle in front of Aren.

"I brought wine."

Then, as though it were merely an afterthought, he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a small purple package.

"And since I’m reasonably certain dogs don’t drink wine," he added with a faint smirk, "I got him this."

Aren’s attention snapped to the package instantly, and her entire face lit up.

"You got him blueberry yogurt? That’s his favorite flavor!"

She immediately turned toward Biscuit and spoke in a teasing voice.

"See? I told you Don Caio cares about you too."

Biscuit clearly believed none of it. He had endured enough threatening stares from Caio to regard a bag of treats as sufficient evidence of peace.

Still, Biscuit had priorities.

And blueberry yogurt ranked significantly higher than dignity.

So, without hesitation, Biscuit launched himself at Caio and landed partly across his lap. The dog swiftly snatched the package from Caio’s hand with his teeth, and immediately retreated toward Aren before Caio could react.

Caio stared after Biscuit as the dog walked away, but Biscuit didn’t look back.

Aren burst into laughter and began stroking the dog’s head as he returned to her lap, shamelessly demanding his reward.

"Good job, Biscuit! It’s not easy to steal anything from him, I’m telling you! I’ve trained you well, haven’t I?"

Caio narrowed his eyes at the pair, who seemed completely indifferent to his existence now that they’d secured their blueberry yogurt snack.

With a resigned breath, he reached for the corkscrew in his pocket, opened the bottle, and poured the pale wine into both glasses.

"Try this one," he said, lifting a glass toward Aren in another attempt to win back her attention. "It has distinct vanilla and jasmine notes, but it’s sweet as honey. The kind of thing you usually like."

The trick worked flawlessly every time.

Aren accepted the glass with both hands, her excitement almost rivaling Biscuit’s enthusiasm for his treats.

"Thank you, Caio!" Her smile deepened. "I’ve been waiting to enjoy this with you again. It’s been a long time."

The words struck him more sharply than they should have.

He watched her take careful little sips, savoring the wine as though she were afraid it might disappear if she drank it too quickly.

A pleased warmth stirred in his chest at the sight, yet guilt followed immediately behind it.

’It’s only been a few days.’

And yet he’d made those days feel longer.

He had been the one avoiding her.

After a few sips, the wine brought a faint flush to Aren’s cheeks. She turned toward him with a tentative smile.

"Is everything all right at work lately?" she asked. "You’ve been coming home very late."

Caio stiffened. He’d known she would eventually ask.

He lifted his own glass and looked away toward the garden, pretending to study the branches swaying gently overhead.

"Just several annoying incidents I’ve had to deal with personally," he said, forcing his tone into something casual. "Nothing for you to worry about."

Aren studied him for several quiet seconds, her gaze lingering on the way he avoided looking at her.

There was something in the set of his jaw, something too carefully contained beneath the calm of his voice, that told her he was holding something back.

She couldn’t tell what, so she tucked the observation away.

"You know..." Her voice softened as she glanced down into her wineglass. "Ever since we captured your cousin, you haven’t assigned me to accompany you to any events at all. You’ve paid a great deal for our contract, and yet I’ve mostly been staying here, eating your food and sleeping in your bed for free."

She looked back at him, guilt flickering across her features.

"You should give me more work. I could share security duties with Leo and the guards, at the very least."

Caio turned toward her fully, and despite himself, a small smile touched his lips.

There it was again — that earnest, troubled expression she wore whenever she became convinced she was somehow taking advantage of him.

Regardless, there was no chance in hell he was assigning her to more dangerous work. Not after watching her get kidnapped, and certainly not now that he’d finally begun to understand just how many enemies were willing to use her against him.

The conversation with Mrs. Pecora was still unpleasantly fresh in his mind.

But that didn’t mean every instinct in his body had suddenly stopped screaming — especially whenever Aren suggested doing something that might place her within a hundred meters of a potential threat.

And the contract?

The money he’d paid for it had long since ceased to matter.

At some point, without him consciously realizing when it had happened, that ridiculous sum had become nothing more than the price he’d paid to keep her close to him.

Unfortunately, telling Aren any of that would only invite an argument.

So Caio reached for the explanation most likely to satisfy the part of her mind that still viewed their relationship as strictly professional.

"I hired you because someone was trying to assassinate me," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "Now my cousin is locked in my basement and my aunt is on the run. What exactly do you expect me to assign you to? There aren’t any immediate threats left."

The diversion worked for approximately half a second, but then Aren’s eyes sharpened at the mention of Liviana.

"Has Leo managed to track down your aunt?"

Caio stiffened almost imperceptibly. He lifted his glass and took a measured sip.

"Not yet," he replied, his expression remaining perfectly composed. "She’s always been good at hiding."

Disappointment passed over Aren’s face so quickly that Caio almost regretted speaking at all.

"I see." Her fingers tightened around her glass. "Please tell me whenever you receive any trace of her."

"I will."

The words came out smoothly enough that even he almost believed them. He emptied the rest of his wine in a single swallow and set the glass aside.

Before Aren could continue the conversation, he shifted closer, then lowered himself without warning until his head came to rest comfortably across her lap.

Biscuit, who had occupied that exact position moments earlier, let out an outraged yip.

Caio ignored him completely, which only earned him a glare from Biscuit for several long seconds.

By now, Biscuit had grown to recognize a pattern of behavior he deeply resented.

But with the prospect of more blueberry yogurt treats hanging over his head, the dog let out a little huff, abandoning his stolen territory to trot off after a butterfly drifting through the grass.

Aren, meanwhile, went completely still.

It wasn’t that she minded.

Quite the opposite, unfortunately.

Over the past several weeks, her lap had become an increasingly dangerous place for him to rest his head.

Whenever his face was this close to her chest, he’d developed several habits that made her cheeks burn simply remembering them.

Yet instead of reaching upward to indulge any of those habits, Caio merely looked up at her with a faint, almost lazy smile.

"Would you sing me that song?"

Aren blinked.

"What song?"

"The one you were teaching Biscuit."