Chapter 197: "Size Five"

Their date didn’t end until nearly seven in the evening.

By the time the car turned toward the Sartori District, Biscuit had exhausted every ounce of energy in his small body.

He lay sprawled comfortably across Aren’s lap, heavy with sleep, no longer bothering to paw insistently at Jordan for attention.

Jordan sat beside Aren, his fingers intertwined with hers for nearly the entire drive.

He still found it difficult to believe how quickly the day had passed.

It felt as though they’d only just arrived at the museum, only just begun wandering through its galleries.

Yet now, the familiar streets of the Sartori District were appearing beyond the windows, and the inevitable end of their date was drawing closer with every passing minute.

A quiet sense of loss settled over him.

’Already?’

He didn’t want the day to end, but perhaps that was precisely why the day had felt so precious.

’There’s no need to rush.’

He reminded himself of that as he watched the road slide past.

’There’ll be other dates.’

’I’ll have more time to know her.’

His gaze drifted toward Aren.

She looked peaceful, her attention focused entirely on Biscuit as her fingers moved lazily through his fur.

The soft evening light filtering through the car window bathed her features in a warm glow, making her look impossibly serene.

Jordan lingered there for a moment, smiling despite himself, before his eyes dropped toward her hand.

More specifically, toward her ring finger.

For eyes that had spent more than a decade assessing weapons, grips, and custom fittings, estimating dimensions by sight had become second nature.

His mind could calculate measurements almost automatically, often before he consciously realized he’d begun doing it.

The distance between her knuckle and palm.

The slenderness of her finger.

And eventually...

The approximate circumference.

His gaze remained fixed for several seconds.

’About 15.3 millimeters.’

His mind supplied the answer immediately.

’Size five.’

Then, completely without permission, another thought followed.

’Would a thin band suit her better, or something wider?’

He imagined it briefly — something delicate and elegant, simple enough to complement her hands rather than overwhelm them.

He was still silently debating the matter when Aren turned toward him with a warm smile.

"Jordan, did you have a good time today?"

Jordan nearly jumped.

His attention snapped away from her hand so quickly that he felt as though he’d been caught committing a crime.

’What the hell are you thinking?’

’Are you seriously calculating her ring size while she’s sitting right beside you?’

He immediately looked toward Biscuit instead, desperately trying to appear as though he’d been doing nothing unusual.

"Of course I did," he answered a little too quickly.

To make himself look natural, he reached down and began rubbing Biscuit’s stomach alongside Aren.

"What about you, Biscuit? Did you have a good time?"

Biscuit gave a happy little sound, his tail making a lazy thump against Aren’s leg.

"Yip!"

Apparently pleased to have acquired two personal masseurs, he curled more deeply into their hands and let his eyes drift almost completely shut.

Aren laughed softly.

"Looks like he really enjoyed today."

She glanced at Jordan, her smile growing warmer.

"I enjoyed today a lot, too."

Something inside Jordan loosened.

He’d spent the entire day wondering whether she’d enjoyed herself as much as he had, whether the heavier parts of their conversation had spoiled the mood.

Hearing her say it so plainly settled those doubts.

"I’m glad."

The car continued through the evening traffic before Jordan finally spoke again.

"So... I guess our next date will be at Lucilla’s exhibition."

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly troubled.

"I’m looking forward to it. I really am. But after what happened this morning... honestly, I don’t think I feel comfortable interacting with either of them again so soon."

"I don’t feel comfortable around them, either," Aren admitted plainly. "But we don’t have to spend time with them. We’ll just spend time together and enjoy the artworks like we did today."

Jordan considered that for a moment before nodding.

"Good idea."

He already liked the sound of it.

The car eventually rolled to a complete stop in front of the Sartori estate, bringing their first date to its reluctant conclusion.

Aren carefully gathered Biscuit into her arms and stepped out of the car.

She remained by the entrance, waving until the red glow of Jordan’s taillights vanished beyond the estate gates.

When she finally turned toward the mansion, Mrs. Pecora — who usually waited to greet her — was nowhere in sight, leaving only a few maids stationed near the entrance.

’Mrs. Pecora must be inside the dining room with Don Caio.’

’He must be having dinner.’

She looked down at Biscuit, whose eyes were barely open.

’Maybe I should take Biscuit back to my room first.’

’He looks exhausted.’

With that in mind, she turned toward her suite rather than heading directly to the dining room.

She hadn’t made it very far, however, before the sound of raised voices reached her from farther down the corridor.

"...just how many more shipments must get attacked before you get this solved, huh, Leo?!"

Aren slowed.

It was unmistakably Caio’s voice, and it was coming from the nearby sitting room.

Judging by his tone, he was furious.

Curious despite herself, she moved a little closer, careful not to make enough noise to interrupt the conversation.

From inside, Leo answered, his voice considerably calmer.

"This time, the attacks were conducted differently from the previous two incidents, Boss. Either they’re deliberately varying their strategy against us, or we’re dealing with a different party altogether."

At that exact moment, the maid following behind Aren suddenly spoke, deliberately raising her voice.

"My lady, would you like me to inform the Don that you’ve returned?"

Aren turned and looked at the maid with suspicion, wondering why the woman had to ask so loudly.

She didn’t yet realize that the maid had effectively rescued Leo — and perhaps the heirlooms inside the sitting room as well — from what might have become another unfortunate casualty of Caio’s temper.

The moment the maid’s loud question reached the sitting room, the voices inside abruptly stopped.

Caio had heard her.

So had Leo.

And, apparently, Mrs. Pecora, who was inside the room as well.

The maid’s strategy had worked perfectly.

The anger drained from Caio’s face instantly. He leaned toward Leo and lowered his voice to a hurried whisper.

"Leave. Now. Solve this before I demote you. And do not let her hear a single word about this if she asks."

Leo lowered his head, looking almost grateful for the interruption.

"Understood, Boss. I’ll add extra men to tomorrow’s escort team."

With that, he hurried out of the sitting room.

Now, Aren had little choice but to show herself.

She released a resigned sigh, thanked the maid quietly, and stepped into the room with Biscuit still nestled in her arms.

"Don Caio. Mrs. Pecora."

Mrs. Pecora looked visibly relieved to see her.

"My lady. You came back earlier than expected."

"Yes." Aren nodded. "I wanted to come back early so Jordan could return and rest."

A faint blush warmed her cheeks as she turned toward Caio.

"And... I didn’t want to keep Don Caio waiting."

The change in Caio was immediate.

He rose from the couch at once, looking less like the formidable Don of House Sartori — and more like a man who had been eagerly waiting to take the woman he loved out on their first date.

"You still feel good enough to go?"

"I’m completely fine and ready to go!" Aren answered brightly, then glanced down at Biscuit. "But Biscuit seems very tired. I don’t know if he can come with us."

The corner of Caio’s mouth nearly curled into a smirk.

Of course, he’d never intended for Biscuit to accompany them in the first place.

Tonight was supposed to be private.

If he were being entirely honest with himself, he’d secretly hoped the dog would exhaust himself during the day — and become too tired to demand Aren’s attention afterward.

Apparently, his prayers had been answered.

"Then leave him at home," he gestured toward Mrs. Pecora, looking perfectly considerate. "Mrs. Pecora can take care of him tonight."

Mrs. Pecora immediately understood exactly what the Don was suggesting.

"I can keep Biscuit in my quarters, my lady," she offered. "He won’t have to sleep alone."

Aren looked down at the sleepy Biscuit.

"Are you okay with that, Biscuit?"

Biscuit opened one eye.

He looked as though he would have preferred to protest. Yet even he seemed to understand that he was exhausted.

Mrs. Pecora was someone he liked, and a warm place to sleep didn’t sound particularly unpleasant.

After a moment of consideration, he released a small, approving huff and buried his nose against Aren, as though reminding her that even if he agreed to sleep elsewhere tonight, he would still miss her scent.

Aren’s expression softened.

She hugged Biscuit a little tighter before carrying him over to Mrs. Pecora.

"All right," she said, rubbing beneath his chin. "Sleep well tonight, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow when I come back."