Chapter 206: "The Bliss Of Ignorance"

Caio’s promise of a good night’s sleep had, technically, turned out to be true.

When Aren finally stirred awake, she couldn’t tell whether it was still morning, or whether they’d somehow slept straight through to noon.

Warm sunlight already poured generously through the bedroom windows, illuminating rumpled silk sheets, abandoned clothes, and more than enough evidence of why neither of them had managed to sleep until dawn.

One of her legs was draped across his firm stomach, held securely in place by a large hand that showed absolutely no intention of letting her escape.

Unsure whether Caio was awake — and unwilling to disturb him if he wasn’t — Aren stayed exactly where she was.

She merely snuggled a little closer, fitting herself against his body with sleepy contentment.

Caio felt the change immediately.

He’d already been awake for several minutes, lying there quietly with his eyes closed, enjoying the simple luxury of having her tangled around him.

"Morning, cutie," he murmured, fingers slipping gently through her hair. "Sleep well?"

The sudden sound of his voice startled Aren.

She lifted her face from his chest, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

"I did."

A thoroughly satisfied smile blossomed across her face.

But then memories of the previous night returned, and her lips slowly formed a pout.

"Except..." She fixed him with an accusing stare. "...we didn’t actually sleep until the sun came up."

Caio burst out laughing.

She wasn’t exaggerating, and he knew damn well he didn’t have a single convincing excuse for that.

So he wrapped both arms around her instead, pulling her higher until she lay completely on top of him.

"What could I do?" He kissed her slowly, one hand stroking lovingly down her back. "There was never a good stopping point."

Aren considered that explanation.

"...We could have stopped after the bath."

"We could have," Caio agreed solemnly. "...Until you climbed out of the bathtub and wiggled your ass at me."

Aren looked instantly offended.

"I wasn’t wiggling it! I was drying myself."

"That’s your version of events."

As if to demonstrate exactly what the memory did to him, he deliberately rolled his hips upward beneath her.

The hard length of his cock dragged slowly against her bare pussy.

"Mmm—Caio!"

Aren jolted at the sudden pressure.

Warm, solid, and already fully hard, his cock rubbed directly along her folds beneath the blanket, its swollen head teasing dangerously close to her entrance.

’Already?!’

Her palms immediately pressed against his chest.

"W-wait!"

She hurriedly pushed herself upright until she was sitting astride his stomach instead.

Caio groaned low in his throat when the warmth of her pussy left his cock.

Still, the moment he heard the urgency in her voice, the teasing disappeared from his expression.

"What is it?" he asked, settling both hands gently around her sides. "Still sore?"

Aren’s face gradually heated.

"...No. It’s not that."

Unfortunately, this new position created another problem.

She was completely naked, and her bare pussy was now pressed directly against the hard ridges of his abdomen.

Caio noticed too.

Judging by the sudden gleam in his eyes, he was positively delighted by both the position and her answer.

"Then why are you breaking my heart, hm?"

Before Aren could respond, he deliberately flexed his abdomen beneath her. The subtle movement rubbed the firm ridges of his muscles directly against her clit.

Aren inhaled sharply.

"Caio!"

His eyes danced with knowing amusement, which only made her face burn hotter.

"I’m not breaking your heart!" she insisted, although maintaining a serious tone became significantly more difficult when he did it again. "It’s just..."

She looked down at him suspiciously.

"...Aren’t you tired?"

"Do I look tired?" Caio countered casually. "I just got some real deep, good sleep."

"Well..." Aren drew the word out uncertainly as she studied his face. "You don’t look particularly tired."

Then her expression changed, becoming more grave.

"But you performed repetitive pelvic thrusting for several hours last night. Prolonged repetitive hip flexion and extension can overwork the hip flexors, gluteal muscles, and lower back."

Caio blinked.

Aren continued with complete sincerity.

"If you keep doing it without sufficient recovery, you could develop muscle strain or aggravate your lumbar spine. Theoretically, that could result in lower-back pain and impaired pelvic mobility."

Silence followed.

Caio stared up at her.

Aren stared solemnly back.

For several seconds, he looked genuinely torn between two equally powerful impulses.

One was to laugh at the fact that she’d just delivered a serious warning about the musculoskeletal consequences of fucking her all night.

The other was to flip her onto her back — and fuck her again immediately.

"Apparently," he said at last, his voice dropping into a dangerous murmur, "I’ll need to perform a lot more repetitive pelvic thrusting to test this theory."

Aren’s eyes widened.

"That’s not how medical testing—mm!"

Before she could finish the sentence, both of his hands closed around her breasts, squeezing firmly enough to send a shudder through her body.

"Mmm... ah..."

Meanwhile, Caio shifted beneath her until his hips were properly aligned again. His fully hardened cock returned between her thighs, the swollen tip nudging against her entrance.

"Hah... Caio..."

Aren looked down at him uncertainly.

Lust had darkened his blue eyes, and the warmth of his hands against her breasts was steadily dismantling her ability to think.

She could already see how badly he wanted her again.

"Are we..."

She glanced toward the bright sunlight pouring through the windows.

"...Are we not going back to the estate? It’s already quite late."

Caio’s expression immediately soured.

Of all the things she could be thinking about while sitting naked on top of him, apparently transportation logistics had somehow survived.

Determined to drive the thought out of her head, he rolled her nipples between his fingers and tugged them — just firmly enough to make another helpless moan spill from her lips.

"Ah—"

"Why should we go back?" he asked, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "We’re still in the middle of our date."

The swollen head of his cock pressed into her slick entrance with one smooth, powerful thrust of his hips.

Whatever argument Aren had been preparing about their return trip vanished somewhere between her mind and her mouth.

─ •✧• ─ ✿ ─ •✧• ─

By the time Caio’s car finally left the country house, the sun had already begun its descent.

Aren was asleep again, exhausted after an entire afternoon of overexertion with barely any proper food in between.

Caio, on the other hand, looked perfectly content.

Every so often, he glanced over at her sleeping face with an indulgent expression — and a distinctly smug satisfaction because he knew exactly why she was so tired.

That indulgence, however, disappeared completely as they approached the Sartori estate.

’What the...?’

Shock and confusion overtook his face.

Apparently, during his absence, his estate had suffered a small-scale invasion.

Several large trucks were parked across the front grounds, their rear doors thrown open.

Workers moved continuously between them and the mansion, unloading floral arrangements of every imaginable size, all overflowing with pristine white peonies.

In the front yard stood Mrs. Pecora and Leo, watching the operation unfold.

Judging by their expressions, they were every bit as confused and concerned as the cluster of maids and footmen gathered nearby.

Caio’s eyes narrowed at the flowers.

’Aren’t those...’

’...the same flowers she gave me?’

The car came to an abrupt stop near the mansion’s entrance.

The sudden halt finally stirred Aren from sleep. She blinked groggily, rubbed her eyes, and peered through the window at the astonishing number of flowers currently invading the Sartori estate.

’White peonies?’

Her sleepy mind struggled to make sense of the sight.

’Did Caio like them so much that he ordered more for himself?’

By the time Aren had rubbed enough sleep from her eyes to confirm that the flowers were real, Caio was already outside the car.

"Mrs. Pecora. What’s the meaning of this?"

Mrs. Pecora turned immediately, having been so preoccupied with the trucks that she hadn’t noticed their arrival.

"Sir. My lady."

She greeted them quickly before gesturing toward the sea of flowers.

"It seems... we’ve received a rather substantial delivery for Lady Ariana."

Aren, who had just climbed out of the car, blinked in surprise and pointed at herself.

"For me?"

Caio blinked as well, though his version looked considerably more dangerous.

"...For her?"

His voice dropped.

"From who?"

Mrs. Pecora’s expression became carefully neutral.

"It’s from... Mister Castellano, sir."

Then, perhaps to prevent any unfortunate misunderstanding that might result in the wrong person being killed, she hastily clarified.

"Jeremiah Castellano. The heir, sir."

Whatever sleepiness remained in Aren’s face vanished.

"From Mister Castellano?"

She clapped her hands together as realization struck.

"Ah! These must be the decorative flowers from the press conference yesterday morning!"

Caio slowly turned toward her.

"Decorative flowers?"

"Yes!" Aren nodded enthusiastically. "He decorated the entire venue with them. It looked absolutely amazing! Although I don’t know why he changed the order to white peonies. When we met at the flower shop before, he’d ordered different flowers."

Caio went very still.

There seemed to be an alarming amount of information in that explanation that he was supposed to know, yet had somehow never been granted access to.

His voice sank another degree.

"...You met him at a flower shop?"

Aren nodded eagerly, entirely oblivious to the dangerous shift in his tone.

"Yes! We went to a bakery café together as well, and I asked him what white peonies meant. After he explained it to me, I ran back to the flower shop and bought some for you!"

Caio heard very little after "we went to a bakery café together."

Not only had Jeremiah Castellano gone flower shopping with her.

The bastard had also, somehow, decorated an entire press conference with those same flowers — before sending several truckloads of them directly to the Sartori estate.

The implication was about as subtle as a bullet through a window.

Caio made his decision instantly.

"Gather all of these."

He turned toward the nearest group of Sartori men.

"Burn them."

Aren’s eyes widened in horror.

"No! Wait, please!"

She practically jumped in front of him.

"I actually... I actually asked if I could have some of them after the event!"

Caio stopped instantly.

"...You did?"

"Yes! But I left in such a rush that I didn’t collect any! I just didn’t think he’d actually send all of them to me."

Caio stared at her.

Gradually, some of the danger drained from his expression, replaced by something considerably softer.

"...You like these flowers?"

Aren nodded repeatedly.

"I love them!" ℯℯ𝘭.

Then a blush spread across her face, and she shyly turned her gaze away.

"They... um..." Her fingers fidgeted together. "They make me think of you. They make me feel like... like how I feel about you."

Caio’s expression went blank.

Apparently, fucking her throughout the entire previous night — and then again for a significant portion of the day — still hadn’t made her any less shy about simply telling him she loved him.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.

’Fine.’

’That bastard could send a thousand truckloads if he wants.’

He waved toward his men again.

"Leo."

Leo stepped forward immediately.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Security-check every arrangement," Caio ordered flatly. "Make sure there’s no poison, tracking device, explosive, or whatever other funny shit hidden in them. Once they’re cleared, move everything to the west wing."

Leo looked toward the trucks with a solemn, dutiful expression.

He could already see the remainder of his day disappearing beneath an avalanche of white peonies — all because his boss wanted to please his little girlfriend.

Nevertheless, Leo nodded.

"Yes, Boss."

By then, Caio had already lost interest in the logistics.

He turned toward Aren and swept her straight into his arms, knowing perfectly well she wasn’t going to be walking particularly straight right now.

"Shall we go get something to eat?"

"Yes, please!" she answered happily, looking entirely too pleased to be carried.

With that, he carried her toward the mansion, already discussing what she wanted for dinner, as though several truckloads of flowers hadn’t nearly been sentenced to incineration thirty seconds earlier.

Behind them, the front yard remained strangely silent.

Mrs. Pecora looked at Leo.

Leo looked at Mrs. Pecora.

The maids looked at the footmen.

The footmen looked at the security detail.

Nearly every person present had heard about yesterday’s press-conference scandal.

And judging by Caio’s remarkably peaceful mood, nearly every person present had now reached the same conclusion.

He hadn’t.

Leo delicately cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Pecora, should we tell the Don about the scandal? Or should we... let him discover it naturally?"

Mrs. Pecora’s face became perfectly still.

Behind that composed expression, however, a thousand possible outcomes unfolded in rapid succession.

’Tell him now.’

’He sees the footage.’

’He becomes furious.’

’He potentially declares war before dinner.’

’Don’t tell him.’

’He eventually discovers that everyone in his estate knew before he did.’

’He becomes furious for an entirely different reason.’

Neither option was particularly attractive.

At last, deciding that peace was a rare commodity in the Sartori estate, Mrs. Pecora shook her head firmly.

"Nope."

Her gaze followed the happy couple until they vanished around the corner.

"Let the Don enjoy the bliss of ignorance for... as long as possible."