Chapter 35: "Why Not Use The Elevator?"
Aren recognized the voice at once.
’Liviana Sartori.’
The sudden sound didn’t just ruin Aren’s cover; it also alarmed the servant.
His head snapped toward the sound, shoulders tightening. He increased his pace at once and shoved through the heavy emergency door, letting it swing shut behind him and cut off his trail completely.
Aren let out a soft, regretful sigh.
’Target missed.’
A moment later, she stepped out from her hiding place just as Liviana rounded the corner.
"Lady Liviana," she greeted calmly, "I didn’t know you were invited too. I didn’t see you earlier."
Liviana Sartori was still burning with a deep, rotten irritation at her son, Gael, for his repeated failures in killing Caio Sartori.
The frustration had become such a familiar sensation that it no longer surprised her, but it still sat unpleasantly under her skin.
Failure was humiliating.
Repetition made it insulting.
But what interested her more was the report her own men had brought to her ear moments earlier: Caio had arrived with Ariana Lombardi.
Not with Leo, who tailed Caio like a constant shadow.
With her.
That alone had been enough to sharpen Liviana’s curiosity.
With that burning curiosity, Liviana approached Aren with a warm smile.
"What a coincidence, Ariana dear."
She stepped closer, close enough to make her presence feel intimate, and held both of Aren’s hands in hers.
"I only spotted you earlier because of Lady Micaela. That woman surely possesses no grace despite her social standing. Are you feeling alright?"
Aren offered a thankful nod.
"Thank you for your concern, I am well. You wish to talk to me?"
"Indeed," Liviana said warmly. "But it’s a private matter. How about we find somewhere a little more private?"
She turned and guided Aren into a quieter corridor, away from the ballroom noise and the heavy traffic of waitstaff and reporters.
Her tone shifted as they moved, becoming softer, more affectionate, the way a flattering aunt might speak to a beloved niece.
"How are things between you and Caio?" she asked with a smile. "I see you two are getting closer lately, which makes me tremendously happy to see."
"Oh," Aren said, visibly startled.
Memories of the night in his bed rushed back at once.
His weight above her.
His lips on hers.
The pounding of his heart pressed tightly against her chest.
’Don Caio has indeed gotten very close to me.’
A deep blush crept across Aren’s features the more she thought about it. Her voice dropped to a shy murmur.
"How... do you know, madam?"
Liviana laughed instantly, amused by the blush and pleased by the reaction.
"Oh, you and Caio have been together for some time now. I even heard he’s taken you to business meetings lately."
Aren made no direct comment to that. It was a matter too close to her bodyguard contract, and revealing too much felt unprofessional.
"Well..." she said instead, "Don Caio has been very kind to me."
Liviana continued smiling.
"I’m so glad to hear that."
Her smile deepened as she tried to steer the conversation where she wanted it.
"But you know, I know Caio well enough. My nephew could be... difficult sometimes. Is there anything he does to you that makes you feel... lonely? Perhaps mistreated?"
Her gaze settled on Aren meaningfully.
"Resentful, even?"
Aren’s gaze drifted briefly toward the ceiling as she searched for any memory that resembled what Liviana was describing.
She found nothing.
Only Caio’s occasionally severe manner, his stress-induced irritation, or his insistence on routines and standards that came with zero explanation.
At last, she shook her head firmly.
"Not at all, madam," she said warmly. "Don Caio has been very thoughtful and attentive to my every need."
Liviana remained smiling.
"That’s a huge relief for me."
Inside, however, cold disappointment had already begun burning through her.
Liviana herself knew very well that Caio did not merely keep the Lombardi girl for sex. It was a calculation. A strategic move that ensured House Sartori enjoyed effortless access to Lombardi hotels and nightclubs, where their "products" moved most easily.
Liviana herself had expected more friction between Caio and Ariana.
More bitterness. More of the vulgar give-and-take she had heard rumored countless times about their relationship.
And yet here Ariana was, smiling contentedly as though being with Caio Sartori was some grand achievement.
’The girl is useless for my plans,’ Liviana concluded.
Then another thought quickly crossed her mind, ’But if Caio is suddenly this infatuated with her... perhaps using the girl as leverage might actually be a brilliant idea.’
Suddenly, a female voice cut through the corridor — sharp, frantic, and thoroughly irritated.
"Ariana Lombardi! Where are you?! Come out already!"
The sound made both women turn.
Both recognized the voice immediately.
’Corinna Leone.’
Liviana’s hand quietly withdrew from Aren’s, a smile of regret already settling on her face.
"Looks like someone is also looking for you," she said pleasantly. "Perhaps I should excuse myself. Until next time, Ariana dear."
She walked ahead and disappeared around the turn before Corinna could reach them.
Aren watched her go, confusion and unease creeping quietly into her chest.
Minutes later, Corinna spotted Aren in the corridor.
"There you are!" Corinna said sharply, storming forward with far more fury than grace.
"Lady Corinna," Aren greeted calmly. "You were looking for me?"
Corinna’s expression tightened, her features contorting in visible annoyance.
"What took you so long?!" she snapped. "I searched the whole restroom for you. Where the hell did you disappear to?"
"Oh, I met an acquaintance," Aren answered politely. "I was talking to her. Was something urgent?"
Corinna scoffed, making an ugly, patronizing sound.
"An acquaintance? Of course. You surely have plenty of acquaintances. Come with me now, everyone’s looking for you!"
Without waiting for a response, Corinna spun on her heel and marched away furiously.
Aren quietly followed after her.
As they moved through the corridors, she gradually realized Corinna was taking unfamiliar turns.
"Lady Corinna," she asked, "are we not returning to the ballroom?"
"No," Corinna replied curtly without slowing. "Everyone moved downstairs already."
Aren’s gaze drifted toward the towering heels strapped around Corinna’s feet, then toward the staircase ahead of them.
"Why not use the elevator?"
Corinna stiffened, stopping dead in her tracks.
She turned around, a defensive flush creeping up her neck.
"...What?"
"You’ll suffer walking the stairs in that," Aren said simply, gesturing toward the ridiculous heels.
Corinna’s face twisted at once. Her anger rose quickly, offended by the suggestion itself.
"The stairs lead straight to the main hall, all right?" she snapped. "Besides, I like some cardio exercise. I’m not lazy like you!"
With a harsh huff, she turned and stormed ahead, the clicking of her heels turning sharp and violent against the corridor floor.
