Chapter 182: "The Real Show Of The Day"

The words "my dear old friend" were delivered with such deliberate emphasis that a ripple of surprise swept through the surrounding crowd.

Many of the reporters were already stunned by Jeremiah Castellano’s openly intimate behavior toward Ariana Lombardi, but that single remark immediately sparked a fresh wave of speculation.

Whispers spread almost instantly, accompanied by sidelong glances and rapidly scratching notepads, all centering on one burning question:

Had Ariana Lombardi somehow become romantically entangled with two men who were apparently friends with each other?

Aren was just as surprised. She turned toward Jordan with wide eyes, her confusion plain across her face.

"Jordan, you’re friends with Mister Castellano?"

Jordan’s answer came so quickly that it nearly overlapped her question.

"We’re not."

His eyes narrowed as they settled on Jeremiah’s arm, which remained draped far too intimately across Aren’s shoulders, and whatever patience he had left seemed to evaporate.

Even so, he kept his temper leashed, unwilling to start a scene with Aren standing between them.

"Don’t invent stories where there aren’t any, Castellano," he warned through clenched teeth.

Faced with the sharp warning, Jeremiah merely released a long, wounded sigh, as though Jordan had committed some grave social offense against him.

"Ah, how coldhearted. But I’m inventing nothing."

Turning toward Aren, Jeremiah lifted one hand beside her ear, as though preparing to reveal some scandalous piece of Jordan’s private history.

"Believe me, Ariana, he used to be a regular at our largest Castellano Club branches. He loved watching the cage fights. He even asked to use the cage for training whenever it was available."

"Hey." Jordan cut sharply through the attempted whisper. "Stop whispering and say it to my face. Just because I used to visit doesn’t mean I’m still into it now, and it certainly doesn’t mean you and I are close in any sense of the word."

Jeremiah’s smile widened with unmistakable delight.

"Ah, there we go. Finally admitting it."

He tilted his head, looking positively entertained.

"Say, what made you suddenly stop coming, Jordan? Did your father catch you sneaking in and out of Castellano’s clubs?"

Aren stood between the two young men with wide eyes, her gaze darting from one to the other as she tried to piece together their unspoken history.

When she finally turned to Jordan, her expression held unmistakable expectation, as though she were waiting to hear what he had to say.

Jordan caught the look immediately, a sudden sense of unease creeping into his chest.

’God.’

’I’d better tell her the truth before she mistakes me for some idiot with a blood-sports fetish and a serious gambling problem.’

He exhaled quietly and met her gaze without the slightest trace of shame.

"Ariana, I only went there to see what it was like. I got hooked on the atmosphere for a while — I was younger then, so I enjoyed it. Eventually, I grew out of it and stopped caring altogether."

His eyes shifted toward Jeremiah again, sharpening at once.

"I probably got bored because the place was essentially run by a drama queen like this one."

Jeremiah looked entirely prepared to deliver a reaction worthy of the title he had just been given. His eyes narrowed, his lips parting in offended disbelief, but before he could retaliate, another voice interrupted them.

"What a nostalgic sight. I do miss watching the two of you bicker over trivial matters like this."

Jeremiah’s annoyance flared instantly, though he concealed it with practiced elegance. Turning toward the newcomer, he produced another dazzling smile.

"Ah, Lucilla. You’ve finally come to greet our guests." He gestured toward Jordan with feigned enthusiasm. "Look who I’ve found here."

Jordan merely gave the Bellini heiress a faint nod.

"Lucilla."

They’d known each other for years, but the two Houses had little reason to be fond of one another, and that mutual understanding spared them both the necessity of anything beyond basic courtesy.

Aren also nodded politely. She still remembered Lucilla from the luncheon, though surprise flickered through her eyes at seeing the Bellini heiress here.

"Lady Lucilla."

"Long time no see, Lady Ariana," Lucilla replied with flawless charm. "It feels like forever since I last saw you at the luncheon."

"Ah, yes..." Aren smiled apologetically. "I regret that we didn’t get to speak much that day. Are you attending the event as well?"

"Oh, quite the opposite." Lucilla waved a dismissive hand. "I’m required to be here. You see, Jeremiah hired me to oversee the production of your debut." She gestured toward the entrance behind them. "See all those posters and billboards outside? That’s all my team’s work."

"I see." Aren nodded thoughtfully. "Then I must thank you and your team for all your hard work."

"It’s only because Jeremiah asked," Lucilla replied with an easy shrug, as though the matter were hardly worth mentioning.

Then, for the briefest second, something mischievous flickered across her expression.

She suppressed it almost immediately, but not before her gaze shifted subtly toward Jeremiah, watching for his reaction. When she addressed Aren again, a deliberate note of mystery had entered her voice.

"You know, seeing all of you here has given me a wonderful idea."

"What is it?" Aren asked curiously.

"I’m hosting an art exhibition two weeks from now at a gallery owned by my family." Lucilla tapped one finger thoughtfully against her chin. "Lady Ariana, do you happen to be interested in art?"

Aren considered the question quietly.

She remembered visiting museums in her previous life and enjoying the experience immensely. But even more than that memory, another thought surfaced as her gaze shifted toward Jordan.

’That actually sounds like a good idea for our next date.’

Before she could overthink it, she slipped free of Jeremiah’s arm and reached out to touch Jordan’s forearm.

"Jordan, what do you say? Would you like to come with me?"

The light, intimate touch drained the tension from Jordan’s face almost instantly.

’She wants me to go with her too?’

Warmth crept steadily into his cheeks, and his voice softened despite his efforts to remain composed.

"I’m... not sure about my schedule yet, but... um, if you’d like... I could check and make it work for us."

He had already decided he would make it work, no matter what his schedule said.

Nearby, Jeremiah suddenly found himself excluded from the conversation. The irritation twitching at the corner of his mouth was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress, and he had to fight desperately to keep his smile intact.

’How lovely.’

’I was halfway through declining this bloody boring exhibition, and now these two are going without me?’

There was simply no universe in which he would allow that to happen. He smoothly inserted himself back into the conversation with a bright smile.

"Ah, if that’s the case, then I suppose I’ll be joining as well. Mind sparing me an invitation letter, my dear Lucilla?"

Lucilla nearly scoffed aloud at how quickly the situation had changed.

"Of course. I’m the one inviting you in the first place," she replied charmingly, carefully concealing her irritation.

She hadn’t missed Jeremiah’s earlier attempt to decline her invitation, and apparently, her little provocation — inviting Ariana Lombardi on a whim simply to test the waters — had worked remarkably well.

Perhaps a little too well.

She wasn’t sure whether she should be pleased or annoyed that Jeremiah had immediately changed his mind solely because Ariana was going.

Before she could dwell on it any further, Marco finally stepped forward, his gaze dropping anxiously to his watch.

"Um... Young Boss," he said carefully, lowering his voice. "Perhaps time isn’t on our side. We need to get moving and have Lady Ariana prepared — makeup, wardrobe, everything. The schedule starts at ten."

Jeremiah checked his own watch and looked mildly startled.

"Oh dear. Then allow me to show you the way backstage, Ariana."

He turned toward Lucilla, the charming smile never leaving his face.

"Lucilla, I trust you’ll remain in full and diligent command of your crew?"

"Everything will be under my supervision," Lucilla assured him with a reassuring smile. "No need to worry."

Satisfied, Jeremiah turned and began leading the way, keeping a mindful distance from Biscuit, who remained securely in Jordan’s arms.

Aren and Jordan followed behind him, with Marco bringing up the rear, and together they disappeared toward the backstage area.

Lucilla and her crew remained where they were, watching until the group vanished from sight.

Around them, the reporters also began dispersing, making their way into the auditorium to secure their seats and prepare for the press conference.

Eventually, Lucilla led her team toward a secluded corner where none of the surrounding guests could overhear them.

Once they were alone, she folded both arms across her chest, and the elegant socialite persona she had worn moments earlier gave way to the unmistakable bearing of a woman firmly in command.

"All right. A small briefing before we begin, shall we?"

She raised one finger.

"What do we do when Jeremiah finishes introducing the first fighter, Nico Baldi?"

One of the team members, apparently in charge of production, answered promptly.

"We play Nico’s promotional video on the LED screen, my lady."

"And what do we do when he finishes introducing our second fighter, Ariana Lombardi?"

The same man answered, though this time a trace of hesitation entered his voice, and he lowered it considerably.

"We play the scandalous tape we’ve prepared, Lady Lucilla."

A satisfied smile spread slowly across Lucilla’s face.

"Wondrous."

She nodded approvingly before raising another finger.

"And if Jeremiah later causes a problem over it? If he complains about this horrifying production mistake and demands an explanation, what do we do?"

The man swallowed nervously before answering, his hesitation even more pronounced this time.

"Then I’ll... I’ll admit that it was my mistake. I’ll say I accidentally played the wrong video — the one I personally had stored on my laptop. And... I’ll take full responsibility for it, my lady."

As soon as he finished, several others eagerly joined in.

"And tomorrow, all of our media outlets will put it in the headlines."

Another woman waved one hand excitedly through the air, as though conjuring the headline itself from thin air.

"Ariana Lombardi — Her Tragic Past and Her Questionable Future."

"Yeah," someone laughed. "That sounds poetic as hell."

"I love it already," another replied, laughing along.

Among them, Lucilla looked the most satisfied of all.

"Gorgeous as ever, my lovelies."

Her voice remained as elegant as ever, but the sweetness had sharpened into something quietly dangerous, and the excitement in her eyes betrayed just how long she had been looking forward to this moment.

She glanced toward the auditorium.

"Now, shall we get ready to see the real show of the day?"