Page 12 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Eleven

Isabella

“ S ignor Uberto, how are you?” I ask as I sidle up beside him at the bar.

He has finally stepped away from Mateo and gone straight for a drink. His fingers wrap around a lowball glass of whiskey, the liquid catching the soft ballroom light.

He glances over at me, clearly surprised that I have addressed him. If I need to, I can pass it off as polite hostess behavior. Daughter of the house, making conversation. Nothing more.

But he does not reply. His eyes assess me. They’re cold and unreadable.

He does not want to be here. That much is obvious.

If it weren’t for whatever business forced him to be with Mateo tonight, he wouldn’t have bothered to show up at all. The invitation was pure obligation, and he knows it.

He turns slightly, the gesture subtle but dismissive. He is about to walk away.

I cannot let that happen. He might be the only person who can help me.

“Please. Luca once told me that if I ever needed help, I could turn to you. That I could trust you.” That was before he had to go into hiding, but that’s beside the point.

Uberto’s body stills mid-turn. His jaw tightens. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes studying me.

When he finally speaks, his voice is a low murmur, laced with warning.

“Speaking the Caruso name is still as dangerous as it was five years ago.”

“Why? Because you haven’t been able to find him all this time? Despite all your efforts?”

Pride stirs in me at how cleverly Luca has covered his tracks. For a heartbeat, I’m tempted to add, Does it make you look bad?

But that won’t get me anywhere, and my challenging tone isn’t helping either. Judging by the cold edge in Uberto’s expression, I need to change my tune, and fast.

I draw a steadying breath and try again.

“I’m fully aware no one wants to be reminded of Luigi’s betrayal. That’s why I didn’t use their last name. I said Luca .”

Luca’s father turned out to be the worst traitor in the history of la famiglia . The night Luigi was discovered was the night Luca was torn away from me.

For nearly two decades, he had been feeding information to the De Marcos’ archenemies. Even worse, he leaked the whereabouts of Gualtiero and Mateo De Marco’s father, the Don at the time, and helped orchestrate his assassination.

By De Marco law, a betrayal of that scale carries an immediate death sentence. Not just for the traitor, but for his entire family. That was the reason Luca had to flee that night, leaving me behind with the promise he’d come back for me.

Because of Father’s close friendship with the Carusos, our family came under heavy scrutiny in the aftermath.

Father confiscated the phone and laptop Luca had given me when we first got serious. Clearly, they hadn’t been as secret as we thought.

Father’s words still sting, even five years later. “Do you honestly think I don’t know what’s going on under my own roof?” I had truly hoped so.

He let us get away with it only because we were engaged and had kept it quiet. And because it was Luca. Father loved him like the son he never had.

“ Luca may have carried that last name,” I continue, “but he wasn’t the traitor. His father was. You know that. You worked with him. You were his mentor… his friend.”

His gaze sharpens. He studies me with a colder kind of focus now, like he is trying to decide what I am playing at.

“What do you want, Signorina Accardi?” The way he says my last name is full of disdain.

I lower my voice. “Let’s be clear about something first.”

He raises a brow, but doesn’t interrupt.

“I may carry the Accardi name, just like Luca carried his. But I am not my father either.”

For a split second, something flickers across his face. The barest hint of a smile, too faint to be real, but not imagined either. Then it’s gone.

He waits, giving me space to continue.

“I need to speak with you. I need help.” Softer, I add, “Please.”

I glance around. We have already talked too long. Mamma would notice. Father might too. Eyes are always on me.

“Not here, though,” I whisper quickly. “Please meet me on the terrace. Ten minutes.” I tilt my head toward the glass doors at the far end of the ballroom.

He follows my gaze, then looks back at me. Another beat of silence passes.

He gives me the smallest, curt nod and walks off, heading back toward Mateo De Marco and Romeo Ferraro.

I exhale slowly, but the tension remains lodged deep in my chest. My heart is racing.

Now all I can do is wait. And hope he shows.

Hope he listens.

Hope I haven’t made a serious mistake.

I slip quietly out of the ballroom, careful to keep to the edge of the crowd until I reach the corridor that leads toward the back of the house.

The music and chatter fade behind me as the heavy doors close.

From there, I move quickly, cutting through the service hallway that opens out into the garden.

I’ve avoided heading directly to the terrace. If anyone noticed both Uberto and me stepping outside so soon after speaking at the bar, it would look suspicious.

The night air is cool and heavy with the earthy scent of fallen leaves. I follow the garden path, counting my steps to calm my nerves, a habit I started as a kid whenever I got edgy.

Staying low, I keep close to the hedges to evade the cameras. Luca showed me their blind spots years ago, and I’ve discovered a few more since.

Crouched beneath the terrace, I listen for footsteps above. Moments later, Uberto appears at the railing, his silhouette sharp in the low garden light.

“Psst,” I hiss softly.

His head turns toward the sound, and when he spots me below, his brow lifts in that signature way of his.

“There’s a staircase to your right,” I whisper. “Take it. It’s safe.”

He hesitates but then turns and disappears from view.

A moment later, footsteps approach from the side, and as soon as he steps off the final stair, I grab his arm and pull him into a small alcove screened by a hedge wall, tucked between two stone sections.

The space is narrow and shadowed, forcing us close, yet lit enough that I can still make out his face.

“You realize, Signorina Accardi,” he says dryly, “that if we’re spotted here together, it will look like we’re up to something… compromising. The kind of trouble that comes with consequences. ”

“Call me Isa,” I reply without hesitation. “I don’t need the constant reminder of my father. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s no love lost between us. He despises his daughters purely because we’re girls and not boys.”

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t speak.

“This spot is one of the few places around the estate where the cameras don’t reach,” I continue. “And before you ask, yes, I’m sure. I checked it myself. We’re safe here. The guards won’t pass this path for another…” I lift my wrist and check my watch, “twelve minutes.”

His brow rises again, this time with genuine interest.

“And how exactly did you check that, Miss… Isa?”

“I hacked into the security system,” I say matter-of-factly.

He stares at me for a beat. “You? You hacked it?”

“Yes,” I say, smiling now. “Luca taught me the basics, and I’ve been learning more on my own. Let’s just say the dark web has been… educational.”

A low, amused sound leaves him. Not quite a laugh, but close.

“Well. I can see why he was so taken with you. There’s clearly more to you than the obedient Mafia princess your father wants the world to believe you are.”

That makes me smile for real. Not because I care what Uberto thinks, but because for once I feel seen. Not as a pawn, but as someone with her own mind, her own skills, her own plan.

“You still haven’t told me what it is you want from me.”

I inhale slowly. This is risky. Reckless, even. If he told a single soul about this conversation, my entire plan could fall apart before it even begins.

But I’m counting on a few things. His disdain for my father. His former friendship with Luca. And the fact that Uberto, a man in his late twenties, working with encryption and intelligence, doesn’t believe in the archaic rules la famiglia imposes on women.

My palms are damp. I wipe them discreetly against the side of my gown. My heart beats too close to my throat. The garden is still, but inside me, everything is loud. I take another breath. It’s now or never .

“I need your help to get some fake documentation. Or at least to point me to someone who can.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. His face remains unreadable.

“That’s costly.”

“I’m aware. I can cover it.”

He doesn’t ask how, and I’m grateful.

“I assume you mean a full identity. New name, new life.”

I nod. “My father must never find me.”

His lips twitch slightly, almost a smile. “You want out of this life? That’s a feat few manage.”

I almost say that Luca did, but I hold back. It would not help to remind him that his protégé managed to disappear without a trace.

Whether Uberto admired that or resented it, I have no idea. And tonight, I cannot afford to guess wrong.

“I think it’s best if everyone involved knows as little as possible,” I say.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed as in you won’t ask questions, or agreed as in you’ll help?”

He says nothing. Not right away.

The silence stretches long enough for the sound of approaching footsteps to reach us.

Damn it. Twelve minutes really moved fast.

I glance at my watch. The guards are early, or I was off in my timing. Two voices drift closer.

Uberto raises a finger to his lips. I nod and shift deeper into the alcove. The stone at my back is cold, and the hedge scratches my bare arms. The light from a flashlight sweeps the path just outside.

If it turns in our direction, we’ll be seen. There’s no explaining why we’re both here. I hold still, barely breathing, willing the guards to keep walking.

But they stop.

And so does my heart.

I feel light-headed, dizzy from holding still too long, or maybe it’s from fear. My lungs ache from the effort of keeping quiet, every breath shallow and controlled.

One of them mutters something under his breath. Then comes the flick of a lighter. A tiny snap, followed by the scent of tobacco drifting into the alcove.

My pulse hammers in my ears.

What the heck? Did they turn up early to have a smoke?

They’re closer than I thought, and they’re lingering.

They talk, their voices low and casual. It sounds like gossip. Something about one of the guests inside. Their tone is light, unconcerned, as if they have all the time in the world while they enjoy their smoke.

Uberto and I stay frozen like statues. I barely dare to breathe.

And then, naturally, my nose begins to itch.

No. No, no, no. Don’t sneeze.

I grit my teeth, focus on the pressure behind my eyes, count backward, anything to stop the rising sensation.

The light from the flashlight finally moves again, sweeping across the path. It slows and stops. Just for a second.

But it’s long enough to make my stomach knot and my legs tense, ready to run if everything falls apart.

At last, they walk off, their voices fading as they continue their patrol.

I let out a slow, wobbly breath.

I shake out my arms and legs. They feel like I haven’t used them in decades.

Looking at Uberto, he seems more than a little uneasy too. When our gazes meet, he finally speaks again.

“Fine, I will help you.”

He pulls a slim pen and a business card from inside his jacket, scribbles something on the back, and hands it to me.

“This is my personal email. It’s encrypted and routed through secure servers. Only I can access it.”

I take the card carefully.

“Don’t lose it. It’s risky for me to even give it to you. Send me what you need. Be specific.”

He starts to walk away, then glances back.

“I like your fire, Isa. Good luck.”

He disappears into the darkness, and I lean against the hedge, branches pressing into my back, but I hardly notice them.

He said yes.