My Mafia Dominant Is Back

7. The Lost Key of Aston Martin

Lyla quickly scanned her surroundings, ensuring there was no one nearby before she lowered her voice and angrily asked, "Are you following me?!"

Taking advantage of her confusion, Carlo had already pulled out the chair across from her and sat down with a lazy grin on his face. He looked slightly tired, as if he hadn't slept well, but the mocking smile never left his lips. "Following you? I don’t have time for that. I’m here to catch a thief."

As he spoke, Carlo pulled out his phone, and on the screen was a map with a flashing red dot. The location it marked was precisely where Lyla was sitting—in the library.

"What do you mean?" Lyla snapped, her irritation growing. "This is a university, not some cheesy soap opera set. I told you I didn’t want to see you again!"

Carlo's grin widened, clearly enjoying her frustration. He wasn’t in any rush and answered leisurely, "Someone took my car keys, and I followed the signal to find the suspect. Isn't that what catching a thief is?"

"Car keys?" Lyla frowned, puzzled as she stared at him.

Without a word, Carlo pressed the "Beep the Sound" button on his phone, and suddenly, a series of beeps echoed from Lyla’s bag behind her.

Her body stiffened. She quickly rummaged through her bag, following the sound, and sure enough, she found a car remote. The logo on it was one she'd seen before on one of her wealthy classmates' cars—it was an Aston Martin.

Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of it. How had a luxury car key ended up in her bag? Then it hit her. Last night, when she left in a rush, she had knocked her bag off the small side table, spilling everything. In the dim lighting, she must have mistakenly scooped up the key along with her own belongings.

Even though the whole thing was an accident, Lyla felt her face flush with embarrassment. She mumbled, her tone softening slightly, "I’m sorry, it was an accident." She carefully placed the key in front of Carlo, still feeling a wave of heat creep up her cheeks.

"An accident?" Carlo raised an eyebrow, but instead of taking the key back, he leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. "And you think a simple apology will fix it? You cost me a night of sleep. I had to stay at the hotel. My back’s still aching from that bed!" He exaggeratedly twisted his neck, making an audible ''crack'' sound.

Oh, come on! That was a presidential suite bed in a luxury hotel! How bad could it have been? Lyla screamed internally. And you? You're rich! You have a private butler and a million ways to get home comfortably. How is this my fault?!

Though she wanted to roll her eyes a hundred times over, Lyla held herself back. She knew Carlo was deliberately being difficult, but she couldn't deny that the key mix-up had been her fault. Her strict upbringing didn’t allow her to act rudely, so she bit back her frustration and forced herself to remain calm.

"So, how do you propose we resolve this?" Lyla asked, her voice polite but firm.

"I think…" Carlo drew out the words with a teasing lilt, his eyes glinting mischievously. "I think you deserve a punishment." His gaze flicked downward, lingering on her pants for a moment.

Lyla’s breath caught in her throat. She was wearing loose sweatpants today, deliberately avoiding jeans to prevent any fabric from irritating the faint marks still on her hip. Carlo had clearly noticed this detail. His wicked smile left no doubt about what he was implying, and the realization made Lyla’s face burn with shame.

"Enough!" Lyla snapped, slamming her laptop shut and hurriedly gathering her things. "I told you—I don’t want to see you again."

She stormed out of the library, her pace quick and determined, but to her frustration, Carlo easily caught up to her.

"Why so angry?" Carlo asked, his voice infuriatingly casual. "You seemed to have slept well last night, so why the temper?"

Lyla came to an abrupt stop, her heart racing. The campus walkway was busier than the quiet of the library, with students passing by on all sides. Carlo's comment about sleeping, paired with his tone, made her fear that someone would overhear and misunderstand their relationship. She glanced around, scanning the crowd, but didn’t see anyone she knew. Breathing a sigh of relief, she shot Carlo a cold glare.

"I sleep perfectly well every night," she hissed. "And my temper has been this way since childhood—there’s no need for you to worry about it."

"Oh, really?" Carlo raised an eyebrow, his smile growing even more mocking. "Yesterday, when I saw you, you looked exhausted. Dark circles under your eyes, a sure sign of sleep deprivation. If it weren’t for that ridiculous deal we made, I wouldn’t even consider dating such a sloppy sub."

Lyla’s blood boiled. This arrogant, narcissistic Shadow Master was pushing her to the brink. His handsome face, with that charming smile, was nothing more than a mask, hiding layers of condescension and mockery. She wanted nothing more than to tear that mask off herself.