Page 20 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Nineteen

Isabella

F ather was arranging Mia’s marriage next? Before mine?

What the?

My breath catches. Mia doesn’t answer. She doesn’t move. The silence stretches, heavy and charged. I inch closer and carefully peek around the corner.

Maximo and Mia are facing away from me. His head is turned toward her, watching her.

I can’t see her face, but I recognize that stillness. She’s rigid, her posture suggesting she’s locking herself in position to weather her reaction.

“How would you know that?” she asks at last, her voice calm in that unnerving way she gets when she’s really rattled.

“I did a bit of digging,” he says, sounding too damn casual. “Wanted to see if I had any competition.”

Oh God. He is serious. He’s actually interested in Mia.

But why? They only met yesterday.

I can tell by the slight shift in her shoulders that Mia is lifting her chin and fixing him with a stare.

“You’re lying,” she says. “It wasn’t my turn. Father told us he was arranging Isabella’s marriage.”

“Yet, there’s no indication he talked to anyone about your oldest sister.”

What?

I press a hand to my chest, relieved beyond words.

There’s no secret fiancé. No arrangement lurking in the shadows.

I hadn’t even realized how tense I’d been about it until the pressure started to drain from my body.

Still, this doesn’t make sense.

Everyone was shocked when Mari was chosen first. That plan fell apart spectacularly on the wedding day, literally seconds before she had to say “I do.”

Thank God, or she wouldn’t be with Mateo now, the only man she’s ever loved.

But Mia? Why Mia next?

She must be thinking the same thing.

“And pray tell,” she says, dry and edged with disbelief, “who exactly was my late father arranging my nuptials with?”

“Shay Donnelly.”

Mia blinks. “That name sounds Irish. Why would my father have anything to do with the Irish?”

“For an alliance of sorts, obviously,” Maximo replies smoothly. “Shay Donnelly. Thirty-eight, I believe. Unfortunately, I know him well. He’s operating on my turf. He’s second in line to the Blackthorn Syndicate in Chicago.”

“Chicago?” Mia cuts in. “That doesn’t add up. It’s half a world away.”

Maximo only shrugs. “Even so, the contracts are signed.”

I can practically feel Mia’s spine stiffen.

“So you see, Mialina,” he continues, deliberately using her full name, “they might very well come knocking on your door, expecting you to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“I didn’t sign anything,” she snaps. “And with Father dead, surely that contract is null and void. ”

“No, that’s not how these things work.”

Mia draws in a sharp breath, and I edge even closer to the door. Her voice is low, but it carves the air.

“I don’t understand why Father would want an alliance with the Irish, in Chicago of all places. The De Marcos don’t deal with them. Do they?”

God, we need to get to the bottom of this.

Where is Mari?

We need to talk to her. If anyone can find out what’s really going on, it’s Mateo. He’s smart, loyal, and above all, protective. If he knew anything about this… surely he would’ve warned her. Warned us.

“No, they don’t,” Maximo says. “So it’s anyone’s guess what your father was doing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Your choice,” he says with maddening calm. “But are you willing to take the risk?”

Silence.

Then Mia exhales sharply. “There’s another solution, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

She scoffs. “Let me guess. Marrying you?”

“Yes.”

Oh my God.

“I’m about to take over as Don in Chicago,” he says, like he’s offering her a promotion instead of a proposal. “I need a wife. And I’ve chosen you.”

“ Excuse me? ” Mia’s disbelief is so sharp I nearly flinch. “You’ve chosen me?” Her tone is practically radioactive.

“I have,” he replies, utterly unfazed. “You were raised to be a Mafia wife. You’re young, beautiful, and you will give me the heirs I want.”

Mia lets out a snort, which is most unlike her. “I will, will I?”

“Yes.” There’s amusement curling around the edges of his words. I can hear the smug smile.

Oh, he really has no idea who he’s dealing with.

Mia might only be eighteen, but she’s no pawn. Not anymore. If he thinks she’ll roll over and agree because he’s powerful and charming, he’s in for a rude awakening.

Mia’s laugh is light, almost sweet… if you didn’t know her like I do.

“Well,” she says, cocking her head as if genuinely considering him. “Thank you, Maximo, for so valiantly offering to save me from the big, bad Irish.” Her voice is sugarcoated sarcasm. “But I’ll take my chances with the devil I don’t know.”

I bite my knuckle to hold back my snort.

She doesn’t stop there.

“And honestly?” Her smile stretches, razor-sharp. “I’d sooner chain myself to an Irish warlord than sign up for a lifetime of micromanagement from you. I imagine your ideal wife doesn’t speak unless spoken to, smiles on command, and produces heirs on a schedule. Sorry, but I don’t do obedience.”

Oh, damn.

Maximo chuckles, unbothered, like she complimented his suit.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmurs. Calm. Confident. As if she hasn’t just handed him his ego on a silver platter. “I do enjoy a challenge.”

Mia’s spine straightens even more, her fists curling loosely at her sides.

“Oh, good,” she says, velvet and venom threading through every word. “You’re in for the time of your life then.”

He just smiles. Not cocky. Worse… certain.

God help him.

God help us .

With a disgusted huff, Mia spins on her heel and storms back inside. I have to jog to keep up. By the time we reach the library, I’m relieved to find it empty.

She sinks into the sofa with a frustrated sigh, like the weight of the last ten minutes slammed down on her all at once. I settle beside her, close enough that our arms touch.

“You okay?” I ask quietly.

She pulls a face instead of answering, her breath escaping in a long, shaky sigh, her bravado peeling away like a mask.

“You wouldn’t seriously rather marry into the Irish mob, would you?” I murmur, trying to keep it light, but I can’t hide my worry.

“If Maximo was telling the truth,” she says slowly, “I’m counting on Mateo to put an end to that contract.” A pause. “He would do that, right?”

“Of course he would.” I loop my arm through hers. “Mateo loves Mariella. He cares for all of us. He must not know about this yet. He’d never stay quiet otherwise.”

“But how did Maximo find out?” She frowns at the shelves, as if the answer is hiding between the spines and just needs coaxing out.

I shake my head. “He seems to have access to things he really shouldn’t.”

“Arrogant asshole,” she mutters, fire flashing back into her eyes. “He’s the last man on earth I’d ever marry.”

She speaks with conviction, fury even. But her hands are still clenched, and her eyes don’t meet mine.

I bump her shoulder. “Even after he so gallantly offered to save you from the Leprechauns?”

She groans and screws up her nose. “Ugh. Save me? He wants to own me.”

“Well, good luck to him,” I grin. “He clearly doesn’t understand that taming you would be like trying to put a leash on a hurricane.”

She laughs, genuine this time, and some of the tension in the room eases.

“Good thing he’s leaving soon. Then I can forget he ever existed,” she mutters, pushing up from the sofa.

So why do I get the feeling this isn’t over? Not by a long shot.

“We need to find Mari,” she says, already tugging me toward the stairs. “And fast. But don’t tell her about this… this… I can’t even call it a proposal. It was more like a declaration of ownership.”

I nod, keeping pace with her. “Agreed. She has enough to deal with tonight.”

Mia exhales through her nose, still furious. “I’m done talking about Maximo Marcos. The man’s a walking red flag wrapped in a five thousand-dollar suit.”

I snort. “And yet, he thinks he’s a gift.”

“Well, he can gift his smug ass right off this island,” she mutters, tightening her grip on my arm. “Ideally into a volcano. Isn’t Mount Etna due for an eruption?”

I laugh, the tension in my chest easing a little. She gives me a sideways glance, her mouth twitching. “You’d help push him in, wouldn’t you?”

“With pleasure.”

That gets a real smile out of her. “Sisters who bury bodies together…”

“Stay out of prison together,” I finish, looping my arm through hers. “Come on, let’s find Mari before someone else tries to claim you like a prize goat at auction.”

“Or a broodmare,” Mia adds with a shudder. “Ugh, I need a shower after that conversation.”