Mista had come straight back from a mission and a four-hour plane trip, yet he looked less exhausted than Giorno when they sat down together in a private room. Even though he held his posture, Mista knew him too well.
"So, that was Miss Kujo."
Giorno hummed before trying to divert his attention. "Shouldn't you give me the details of the mission?"
"It went well," Mista said with a roll of his eyes, stretching his arms above his head. "But you must already know that since Fugo has been a pain in the ass, badgering me for reports."
At Giorno's snort, Mista's lip curled, watching him carefully. "Speaking of Fugo, he doesn't seem to like Signorina Kujo much."
"Fugo isn't fond of anyone. Sometimes I think he isn't fond of us either," Giorno replied dryly, resting his back against his seat into a more relaxed posture. "But Abbacchio adores her, if you can believe it. You know how difficult it is for him to warm up to anyone."
He seemed serene, but Mista had been by Giorno's side for too many years not to notice the tension when he mentioned the woman. According to Fugo, despite her lack of respect, their boss was absurdly irrational when it came to her. Because of his weakness for her blood, he was willing to indulge her in anything.
Mista had believed that he was exaggerating. Fugo tended to be like that with any lack of protocol he observed. The girl was American, so of course she would not know anything about mafia protocol.
He had believed that until he had witnessed Giorno tense up and give her one last lingering look as she hung onto Abbacchio's back and laughed evilly despite the silver-haired man's shouted protests (he claimed that he didn't want his clothes to be stained by her menstrual blood).
"I'm sure you're already aware of how reckless it was of you to take her to Nápoles. She could have found out about the..." He observed Giorno's face, which looked more expressionless than usual. His jaw dropped. "You told her!"
Giorno bristled at his accusation. "She already knows a lot about me, just as I do about her. Compared to everything else, this is hardly anything!" When he realized that he had become upset, he sighed. "You've only just met her, but the rest have no problem with her."
Mista raised his hand to interrupt him. "A navel piercing and three ear studs! She was born the day after the third. She's the one before the fifth of her blood. Need I say more? It's obvious that she's bad luck."
"I don't know if earrings and piercings fall into the same category," Giorno told him patiently, used to his tetraphobia. "And until a few years ago, before her great-grandfather's passing, she was the fifth if you also count her great-uncle. Mr. Joestar's bad luck just happened to take the shape of a monster named Donatello."
"Are you defending her because she's attractive?" Mista asked him.
"I'm too tired for this today. Yesterday, another one of my brothers attacked us and she managed to stop him."
The subject of the Stand attack and another son of Dio was enough to change their focus of topics. He called Bruno and Fugo to inform them about the incident. He didn't summon Abbacchio because he was sure the man would probably hear of the information from Bruno or even from Jolyne directly.
Fixing reports took up the rest of his day. His vampire senses picked up the faint, lingering smell of blood. He didn't know if it was just a trick of the mind, but it was as if her scent had permeated his clothes while they were in the car.
The faint smell carried only a fraction of the strength it did when it was fresh. The experience was a bit like smelling freshly baked bread; it smelled delicious, but it didn't drive his senses wild the way it did to have her next to him. It was nice. Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts about her, he went to the shower to remove any trace of her scent.
Shortly before sleeping, Bruno came to inform him that Jolyne was calmly resting after having gorged herself on junk food while watching movies with Abbacchio. The guest, who had been taken to a room that Giorno had chosen for him, was currently speaking with her. He had drawn her several times, along with Abbacchio; there was also a sketch of Bruno. The mangaka had given him one of Leone's drawings, so Bruno liked him at the moment.
Everyone seemed to love the mangaka except Giorno. He couldn't bear to be seen off guard by anyone; the man had happened to meet him at one of his worst moments.
The next day, he prepared to be in his most serious mode. He brushed his hair well and carefully applied concealer onto his dark circles and any trace of fatigue on his face. His suit was black broached with a black shirt open enough so that it could not be seen despite peeking through the jacket. It was styled like those of his early days, even with the jewelry. Although he had grown a lot since then and had abandoned that style, from time to time, he liked to dress this way, especially when he wanted to intimidate someone.
His office was specially made for intimidation, if his six foot height were not already impressive enough. And yet he had to wait almost twenty minutes for the artist to meet him.
The man appeared in a black suit with silver flower embroidery and a transparent white and silver lace shirt. His earrings and his bandana were also silver.
"I know what you're thinking," said Rohan. "He's come to Italy, yet he wears Spanish clothes. Yes, I know. But this Palomo Spain suit is perfect and if I'm going to meet the editors of my Italian manga, I don't want to make them feel too comfortable. As you may have deduced, I have a meeting in a couple of hours. If we could hurry... "
Giorno was almost certain that the employees of the manga publishing house would not be able to distinguish an Italian suit from a Spanish one, but what he was absolutely clear about was that the man had practically entered shouting 'you're a half-vampire and the leader of Passione, but that matters less to me than my manga. You are less important than me.' He had been in the mafia for too many years for that to be funny.
"I thought I had introduced myself properly, but I see that..."
"Mr. Giovanna, I understand that you're someone important, but in my lifetime, I have even met gods. What I mean to say is, I have learned to treat everyone the same." He sat elegantly. "And I've come to see Jolyne. I feel like an old man; the last time I saw her, she broke away from me crying, begging me to marry her when she grew up... "
Giorno's jaw twitched slightly. Perhaps someone else might not have noticed, but Rohan did. The blonde had to remind himself that Jolyne had been a little girl and it was before Joseph Joestar's tragedy. She had to have been less than 12 years old. The typical little girl crush.
"The Joestars are peculiar people, all of them. But even Josu... Even the worst of them is a good person, and they have suffered too much. So I want to know why I should keep silent instead of telling them directly where Jolyne is."
"I swear to you on my honor as Don of my famiglia that nobody wants to play it safer than I do. If you don't trust me, at least think of it another way. There are others who are after something, and I don't want them to have it."
"Mr. Giovanna, I have been reading people for many years, with and without my Stand, so I have learned to distinguish when someone is lying. Obviously, you do it in many cases, but saying you want Jolyne to be safe is not one of them." He settled into the seat as if the place belonged to him. "And I think I have an idea to help our Jojo." His adorable Stand appeared behind him.
When they left the office, Jolyne's essence filled Giorno's nostrils again. He prepared to contain himself. It took a few seconds for him to realize that he felt... nothing. No hunger, no lust, nothing. He only recognized the smell and that was it.
Meanwhile, Jolyne squeezed the mangaka into a hug despite his complaints that she was going to wrinkle his suit.
"Thank you," Jolyne said, holding back tears. "For everything. For telling me and for the rest."
"Come on, it wasn't much. Remember, you're going to be my model when all of this is over. You are beautiful; my readers will adore your beauty." He turned to Giorno. "You know who to call if it fails."
"Yes, your secretary Kyoka Izumi. I will treasure the number you provided." Giorno extended his hand for a farewell handshake. "And thank you too."
"Well, you brought me to Rome, and I was able to draw gardens..." He sighed, resigned to being slightly sentimental. "And you keep Jolyne safe."
"I knew it! You do love me even if you pretend to be cold and heartless!" Jolyne had a huge grin.
"You wish," he replied with a half smile. "And now I'm leaving. You're almost worse than Josuke in clinginess."
As Giorno watched Jolyne and Rohan leave, he exhaled in relief. Not just because he was about to be free of a person this hard to deal with, but because his craving for Jolyne was gone. Seeing her there, dressed in a pretty purple dress with butterflies, he had no other thoughts than the fact that she was beautiful, and he felt a pleasant tingle to see her so happy. No obsession, just normal thoughts.
He wondered if Mr. Kishibe would sell him any of the portraits he had made of her. Not for her, of course, but for the artistic quality.
"Jolyne," Rohan said in Japanese when they neared the exit. "Don't tell the others."
She pretended to smile. "They seem like good people and I want to trust them, but I don't, not completely at least." She lowered her voice a little, but pretended to be amused as she said, "I won't tell anyone that I now understand everything they say in Italian, though you could have given me the ability to speak it and read too. Wow, stingy."
"You're a smart girl, so you should be able to get there on your own. You are the daughter of Mr. Kujo, after all. Someone else had to be smart in the family."
"Don't be mean to Gruncle Josuke. He loves you." She took delight in seeing his cheeks redden. "Aha! I always suspected it since I was little. Now I'm glad I was right."
"Good luck, you little smart ass." He put a hand on her shoulder affectionately. "And when this is all over, come to Morioh."
"I will if some psychotic vampire doesn't kill me first."
"You promised me, so don't die, ok?" Rohan bade her goodbye with a theatrical gesture, hopping into one of Giorno's cars. The chauffeur would drop him off at his hotel.
Since she was free from her workouts for a couple of days, she decided to go for a stroll. She wandered through the gardens before exploring inside the mansion for a while, hoping to cure her boredom. Her hopes were met head-on with one Mista and Fugo.
"Cazzo," Fugo grunted.
"Hey, I'm not happy to see you either, but I try to hide it at least," she replied. She didn't need Rohan's gift to understand; curses were the first things she'd learned in Italian.
"Oh, I see you've got quite the sense of humor," Mista replied, raising his brows.
"I don't know who you are, but I've been putting up with people mumbling about my smell for weeks while bathing me in anti-odor spray because of Giorno's sensitivity to my blood. I told myself it wasn't personal, yet here you are. I can't believe no one has told you that you stink." She pinched her nose with her fingers. "Ever considered taking a shower? Getting a change of clothes? Making better life choices?"
"Listen here, girl..." Mista started, taking a step forward, fists clenched.
The wall next to them split open with a 'ziiiip' before a lithe figure stepped through the void.
"Jolyne, farfalla, Giorno is looking for you," said Bruno. "As for you, Guido, you just arrived, so don't go looking for a fight." He turned to Jolyne again. "Come with me."
"Ok, I'm coming, but can't I walk? Traveling through the void is weird," she replied, ignoring the other two.
"Now do you see what I'm saying?" Fugo said to Mista.
"I'll talk to you later, Panacotta," Bruno replied before turning to Jolyne. "Come now, that can't be. Abbacchio says the experience is fantastic."
"Yeah, but he loves you, so of course he would say that. I'm just afraid of getting lost in some zipper dimension. I'll get to the office on my own feet if that's ok."
"Chickening out, are we? Fine then, have it your way. It's in the little pink room that leads to the east door of the garden, the one with the terrace overlooking the lake. Do you know how to get there?"
"I'm not completely sure, but I think I do. I'll just have to try," Jolyne told him before heading in the opposite direction of where she needed to go, disappearing down a corner. She reappeared seconds later from another part of the corridor. "See? I've got my bearings."
"She's adorable, and you two are idiots," Bruno told them after she was gone again. "I know you have a whole list of reasons as to why we should lock her in a cell, Panacotta, but that's not going to happen. And Mista, give her a chance." He sighed, defeated. "She's a wonderful girl who does not deserve all the bad that is happening to her. She doesn't need two scary gangsters breathing down her neck on top of everything else."
"She didn't seem very scared when she told me I smell bad," Mista replied.
Bruno tried unsuccessfully to hold back a giggle. "Oh yes, she's adorable but also brave."
"Bravery comes easy when you have the Don de Passione kneeling at your feet," Mista told him. "I saw it. Giorno practically salivated around her, turning into a complete dork."
"It's not like she's doing any of it deliberately. Her blood is to blame, something she cannot change. If anything, anyone would say you're jealous, Guido. You and the boss tried starting something, but it failed years before she even entered the picture," Bruno said in an understanding tone. "Maybe Giorno does feel something for her, or maybe not. I'm willing to bet on it being the former, but regardless, it is not for us to decide. It's definitely not something that she sought to provoke."
"I still don't like her," Fugo said while Mista tried to look away.
"That is no one's problem but your own. However, treating her badly... You know that Trish calls her 'Sorellina', right? I'm sure I don't have to explain to you what that means."
They indeed knew. It was a threat worse than Abbacchio's anger.
With the same zipper through which he had arrived, Bruno made his exit, but this time leaving the two men stewing in feelings of shame that only a mother was capable of bringing about.