Naples, Italy

"I know you're in there. I can smell Mista from here."

Mista, with his back to the door, frowned. He turned his head slightly to the side, visibly offended. But then he remembered that this was Dio Brando himself; egomaniacal, stingy, petulant, vindictive and father of his best friend, Giorno.

Seeing Mista swallow hard, Trish perhaps knew what he was thinking. She summoned the courage to push him away from the door and the willingness to open it. Although, when she placed her white hand on the golden knob, she felt her hand shake. Mista hid behind her as if he were a frightened child. He watched nervously as she turned the knob and opened the door slowly, revealing a strong chest.

"Mr. Brando..." both said in unison at the chilling aura that he gave off. They looked up and up until they found a face of very marked expressions. That man was of such great stature that not even his head could be seen because he was taller than the frame. He was of a broad physique with an arrogant look and blond hair. Why did he so inopportunely have to go and ruin their peace of mind, especially when Giorno was not even in the country?

Ducking his head a little so he could enter a few steps, Dio saw the girl and the brunette more clearly. His brow furrowed when he didn't find a certain dyed golden head with a face similar to his own.

"Where is Haruno?" he asked without preamble or even a greeting. Trish was a little annoyed by his customary rudeness. Meanwhile, Mista noticed that the man was carrying a couple of suitcases by his sides.

"It's nice to see you too, Mr. Brando," Trish greeted with her hands on her hips, hinting about his rudeness. Of course, the man understood. However...

"Yeah, yeah! Hello, whatever..." Ignoring her, he wandered inside as if it were his own apartment as the other two watched on, stunned. "Haruno, it's your father!" He shouted with his palms towards the stairs, knowing they led to their rooms. Obviously, he received no response.

"Why are you carrying suitcases? Are you on a trip?" Mista suddenly asked, making the blond look down at his hands that were carrying luggage. With an expression apparently bored and at the same time serious, he looked at the youngsters as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The brunette, especially, looked like a fool.

"I'm staying here, you idiot." His tone was very dry, but that was the least of it when the meaning of that sentence sank in. What!?!!?

"What?" they thought and shouted out loud.

"But you don't mind, do you? The one who should care is my spoiled brat of a son, who doesn't deign to come down to greet me. I'm Dio Brando!"

"But Giorno isn't even here. How do you intend to...?"

"What? Haruno isn't here? Where did he go? To get milk or something? What the hell!" He leaned toward the apartment window to see if he could spot him from above. "Well, never mind, I'll wait for him."

Dio put aside his suitcases and sat on the couch with one leg crossed, his haughtiness ever present. Then he looked at the pair, perhaps a little offended.

"What are you guys waiting for? Are you going to offer me some wine or let Mista's stink finish off my eyebrows?" He folded his arms.

Rather than being offended by his deliberately walking in, insulting the brunette, and demanding the presence of his son by way of insults, Trish and Mista looked at each other with blank minds and wide eyes. They were unsure of what to do. They didn't know whether to lie to him or suffer his always irrational fury, especially when Giorno was involved.

"Mr. Brando, we already told you that Giorno is not here," Trish reiterated.

"I know that! But I'm not moving my ass out of here until I see him."

"Are you going to sit there for the next few weeks then?" she said, trying to reason with him.

Dio turned his head to look at them. He raised an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"What do you want to tell me?"

Trish sighed, unable to tolerate the older man, so Mista went ahead to explain the situation. However, his speech came out almost unintelligible. Since this was Dio Brando himself and the subject of their talk was the son he wanted back very much, she could understand why Mista was so tongue-tied.

"A-And so far, we have no news of Giorno..." he said, lying at the end. He tried to relax a little, but the blond's expression made both retreat a little.

After hearing Mista's explanation, the older man was a bit stupefied while processing what he had said. In the end, he felt offended.

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?" he said in a voice so deep that it was scary. Why was he so affected by this? "That brat is just trying to do away with me!"

'What?' thought the pair.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mista said, offended by how Dio referred to his friend. Trish elbowed him nervously, but he ignored her. "Giorno only traveled as a reward for his work."

"Don't defend him!" he said, not caring about the way Mista had spoken to him; his son was more important. "Ah! But that boy will listen to me." Getting up from his chair, he approached the pair in an intimidating manner, although Mista didn't want to show it. "And you will tell me where he's hiding," he said, bringing out the most evil part of him that he used only in his business of dubious legality. Then he turned, walked toward the bar, and sat down. Without any care for whose apartment it was, he took a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass as if he was trying to drown his sorrows.

The other two present just looked at each other.

"I don't know if it's us or Giorno who's fucked up," Mista thought aloud to Trish, worried. In response, she only thought that both sides were in trouble.

Should they warn Giorno?

...

Florida, United States

Jolyne was tending to Giorno's room. He tried to to help her a little, but she refused because of his obvious condition. At the same time, he discreetly observed her, noticing the wear and tear she had from the previous night. There were visible dark circles under her eyes and perhaps she looked paler and more disheveled. In spite of that, she was no less beautiful to him.

"Giorno, I told you to stop that," Jolyne said as she rearranged the bed. The blond barely managed to pick up the mess of medicines and clothes strewn on the floor, as the pain in his body and the effort of hitting Anasui earlier had weakened him. "If you want to enjoy your time here in Florida, you have to get well. Lie down!" she ordered, pointing to the bed she had just finished making.

"It's only a few items. Don't be upset," he said warmly, wanting her to relax since she had slept for very few hours. He worried for her; if she got sick too, he would not forgive himself. "Besides, the one who should be resting is you."

Jolyne looked at him with some annoyance, not wanting to repeat what she had said. That was perhaps something they came to have in common.

Resigned rather than intimidated, he agreed to take a rest under her stern look that reminded him a lot of Jotaro. Not for nothing were they father and daughter.

Like a good sick patient, Giorno laid down and slid under the sheets uncomfortably. He did not want to be there, doing nothing, although his own body implored him to do so. Feeling satisfied, Jolyne sat down to one side and moved a little closer to his face. It was an action he did not expect, but it seemed like nothing to her.

Giorno was frozen, not knowing how to react. He could see upclose her delicate face that often showed a hard expression while still being beautiful. She, a young girl with porcelain-like skin, long eyelashes, and aquamarine eyes, stared at him.

At the same time, perhaps a little embarrassed, Jolyne placed her delicate hand on his forehead and cheek, trying to detect any abnormal warmth in him, almost as if she was caressing him affectionately. She thought the process was easier when he was asleep. With one touch, she felt something that caused her expression to change, one that Giorno somehow recognized, that of a frightened or worried little girl. However, he wasn't sure if he had actually seen her expression before, and it wasn't the first time he was unsure too. He didn't want to think too deeply about it though, as he felt lost in those orbs.

"Giorno..."

"Yes, Jolyne?" he said in a captivated voice.

"You're burning up," she said to him with great concern, pulling him out of his stupor. "And looking very flushed." She touched his face with both hands and compared it to her own forehead. "We have to bring your fever down. I'll be right back!"

She shot up, ready to go straight to the bathroom. Giorno suddenly grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked at him strangely.

"Please wait, Jolyne."

Noticing the seriousness in his voice, she forgot her concern for a moment and gave in to his tugs. He led her to sit next to him again but closer.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked with confusion. He was now holding her in both arms, almost forming an embrace.

Giorno said nothing, replaying the memory of Anasui moving dangerously close to Jolyne. It made him boil with anger, but at the same time, feel satisfaction at the fact that he had been able to hit him and prevent what he imagined the boy wanted to do.

Losing himself in her eyes, he also recalled Mista's sudden, sincere words. "Come on, Giorno! Are you going to tell me you don't like Kujo's daughter? You express yourself in a special way when it comes to Jolyne!"

Why not allow himself to admit it? Even though it had only been a few days, he felt a connection with the girl. He felt as though they had met before and that he knew that special face and those orbs. He loved her attention, he liked her character, he liked her face, he liked her...

"Gio-Giorno..." Now it was Jolyne's turn to blush violently, but that didn't stop him.

He enveloped her completely, approaching her with haste. Paying no mind to the mixing of their breaths, Giorno brought his lips close to Jolyne's, not caring about the consequences. He only wanted to appreciate the taste of her lips, which were immobile and did not react immediately.

Jolyne, for her part, was slow to process what was happening. If it were anyone else, she would have pushed them away violently. However, here she let herself go, reciprocating both the abrupt kiss and the embrace. Caring little if he was sick, she savored the sweet, minty taste; he had barely been able to brush his teeth after intercepting Anasui in the laundry room.

As their lips began to move, they were lost in the energy and warmth of their mouths that were creating their own space, forgetting about the outside world. It felt strange but at the same time pleasant. Their hearts pounded and their stomachs fluttered.

Deciding to end the kiss, Giorno released her. They both looked at each other completely disoriented, blushing, not knowing what to say or do. Jolyne was the first to look away and speak.

"Don't move your butt out of bed. I'll be right back with breakfast and something for your fever, okay?"

Giorno gave a slight sigh with a half-smile and nodded.

"Of course, I won't move."

Jolyne nodded, unable to look him in the eyes again, even with the violent blush on her face. She decided to leave, saying she was going to prepare a chicken broth and water for him.

She got up and quickly crossed the door frame, leaving him with her heavy footsteps.

Giorno began to laugh lightly, not believing what he had done. With the heat in his cheeks, he tasted his own lips, remembering the soft touch of the girl. Having kissed Jolyne, he felt he could now die peace. Figuratively speaking, of course.

With his hands folded behind his head, he smiled and closed his eyes, only to see Jolyne's eyes again, which still intrigued him. Why did they feel so familiar? And especially when he saw the concern in her orbs.

He was still engrossed in them when his cell phone started ringing. Opening his eyes, he picked up the device, whiched showed a contact name on the screen. It was Mista.

Puzzled, he stared for a few seconds. Hadn't they talked that very morning? He touched the answer call icon and placed the phone over his ear with a raised eyebrow.

"What is it, Mista?"

"Giorno, we have a problem." He sounded worried on the other end. Giorno didn't know what to expect with such a sudden call.

...

Like a larva scurrying through the corridor, Anasui searched for Jotaro with some nervousness and excitement. Although, he just couldn't find him for some reason.

"Anasui, what the hell are you doing here?" came the deep voice of Mr. Kujo from behind him, scaring him a little.

"Mr. Jotaro! Where the hell were you?"

"Shut up! If you wanted to see me, you could have waited a bit and not snuck in like a thief. I've had enough of your idiotic smile." It was dangerous for them to be interacting openly like this, as the others might suspect something. "How did you get in? It's too early." He folded his arms, waiting for a credible answer before deciding whether to hit him. Anasui flashed a haughty, triumphant smile.

"First, I figured you wouldn't answer me, father-in-law," he responded firmly. "I purposely left my jacket to see you, so you have no reason to think of me as a depraved thief." He winked at Jotaro and gave him a thumbs up as if it was the most brilliant plan. The older man just closed his eyes, feeling some embarrassment. Sometimes he didn't even know how to interpret what the young man made him feel.

"Don't call me that! I'm sick, you stupid kid, and..." Anasui immediately pulled out a somewhat plump, leather-colored wallet and held it in front of his face. "What are you doing with Giorno's wallet? Are you an idiot, or what? You're giving me reason to break your hand and never let you near my daughter again."

Anasui rolled his eyes. If they thought he was hopeless, he thought Jotaro was almost at his level.

"Will you listen to me? I didn't steal anything from that starving, narrow-eyed Europoor. I just want to show you something I discovered that you may or may not already know."

Without beating around the bush, Jotaro took the wallet and tried to open it without dropping anything. He only managed to see an ID...

"Jotaro!" His ex-wife suddenly appeared, snatching the object from his hands, much to the pair's surprise. "What do you think you're doing, rummaging through other people's belongings!" she scolded, looking especially at Anasui. "Shame on you! This belongs to Giorno."

"And how do you know it's Gioconda's? That was on the floor of the laundry room," claimed Anasui, looking at her accusingly.

"I was washing his clothes, dear. It fell out, and I was planning on returning it to him."

"All right, all right! Shut up, both of you." Jotaro stopped them. "Anyway, I don't care if it's Giorno's. If you stole it or whatever, get out of my house. I don't want to see your stupid face, understand? I'm tired of you. And you." He turned to his ex-wife. "Go and give that to Giovanna. I don't want any more stupid lawsuits."

Rolling her eyes, the woman withdrew with annoyance. He rarely spoke to her like that, and normally, she would not allow it, but just that once, she let it pass. She was more worried about the matter of the young man's identity.

Anasui was about to leave as well, but then he felt his arm being tugged.

"I'll see you later, but stop being so damn reckless, okay?" Jotaro whispered.

The young man smiled victoriously and nodded frantically. Jotaro was, after all, a jealous hothead who would be willing to do things that did not at all align with his serious personality, but when it came to his daughter, he was that and maybe even more.

...

Mrs. Kujo looked at the wallet in her hand as she sauntered towards Giorno's room. She wondered why Anasui had stolen it before looking for Jotaro. Something didn't add up; she had to find out what the two of them were possibly up to.

Also, she still had some doubt inside her about Giorno...

"Maybe if I only take a little peek." With that, she opened it. Inside, she saw two different identifications of two young men who looked the same but at the same time different.