Page 25 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Isabella

A nger still simmering, my fingers curl around my cup like it’s to blame. I avoid looking at Andrea. It’s not his fault Plan NUPTIAL has had a setback.

I glance around the café to distract myself. And that’s when I see him.

A man is tucked deep into the corner by the far wall, almost hidden from sight. Yet the sunlight still finds him, catching the edge of his jaw.

Sapphire-blue eyes. Confident posture. That faint smirk that could easily be mistaken for charm or danger. It’s probably both.

Sebastian.

My heart lurches so hard it stutters. Heat flushes my cheeks and climbs down my neck like wildfire.

He meets my gaze. And… winks.

Oh god.

What is he doing here?

This doesn’t seem like his kind of place. The high-end restaurant where we first met, sure. But this quaint little café?

What are the chances?

I quickly look away, focusing hard on the foam on my cappuccino like it’s a piece of abstract art.

Andrea says something. I nod, not really listening. My thoughts are spiraling.

I’d forgotten how handsome Sebastian was.

Andrea and I continue to sip our drinks in silence, each of us nursing our cups like they hold answers.

I let my gaze wander the café again. And I can’t help it; my eyes find Sebastian’s table once more.

He’s still there, still watching me.

My heart stutters, then kicks back into gear, pounding louder than before. Caught in the act, I look away too quickly.

Should I go over and say hello after Andrea leaves?

He winked earlier. That means he remembers me, doesn’t it?

I’m still weighing my options when he stands and starts walking in my direction, his eyes locked on me.

Oh no. He’s not coming over, is he?

But that’s exactly what it looks like. He’s walking straight toward this table. Toward me.

He moves like he owns the ground beneath him, calm and effortless. Everything about him is composed and intentional.

I, on the other hand, am anything but.

In fact, I freeze.

My pulse spikes so much I almost drop my cup.

My fingers go clammy against the ceramic, slick with panic and heat.

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not while Andrea is still sitting here, stewing over a goodbye that hasn’t happened yet.

I don’t owe Andrea an explanation, but how would I even introduce Sebastian?

My stomach drops. I stare at the table.

In my periphery, Sebastian moves closer. Three tables away. Two.

I sense his eyes on me. My body reacts like I’m on a roller coaster, caught in that breathless drop before the fall, all anticipation and nowhere to run .

My hands shake, the awkwardness about to detonate.

But at the last second, Sebastian veers left and disappears into the restrooms.

I exhale sharply.

Andrea looks up, puzzled. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m…” I let the sentence trail off. I honestly don’t know how to finish it. Let him think I’m upset because he’s leaving.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get more time, Isa. I wish things had played out differently.”

I don’t answer, giving him a tight smile instead, though not for the reason he assumes.

Andrea clears his throat and pushes his empty cup away. “I should get going.”

I stand with him, swinging my handbag over my shoulder, unsure what to say. This isn’t a breakup. It was barely the start of something. Still, I feel a little raw.

“Take care, Isa,” he says and offers me a quick, awkward hug.

“You too, Andrea. Good luck in Milan.”

And then he’s gone.

I let out a long sigh.

Well, that was that.

I watch Andrea’s retreating back as he weaves between tables toward the exit.

Sebastian steps out of the hallway just as Andrea passes.

The timing is ridiculous. Almost surgical.

If I weren’t caught in the pull of our eyes meeting again, I’d probably laugh.

I stand up straighter, adjust the strap on my bag and plaster on a smile.

“Sebastian,” I greet when he reaches me, my breath catching as if my lungs have forgotten how to work.

“In the flesh,” he replies, his mouth curving into that slow, knowing smile. “I’m glad I made enough of an impression for you to remember my name. ”

I try to smile, but it’s weak. My thoughts scramble and my body buzzes.

He’s in a sharp navy suit, the crisp white shirt open at the collar. No tie. Polished but relaxed. Of course he looks like a walking magazine cover.

“It’s wonderful we meet again,” he says with practiced ease. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I was rather cross that fire interrupted my asking you out.”

My heart stutters. So I hadn’t imagined it. He was going to ask me.

“You’re… very direct.” My voice comes out thinner than I’d like, and I immediately hate how breathy I sound.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear even though it wasn’t in my face. My fingers fuss with my bag strap like it suddenly doesn’t belong on my shoulder.

He watches me with that steady, unreadable calm that only adds to the pressure rising in my chest.

“It’s the only way to be if you want anything worth having in life,” he says.

I nod but it’s delayed. My thoughts are still catching up. Only when I finally exhale do I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

“I’m meeting someone here in a few minutes,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Otherwise, I’d have asked you for a coffee date right now.”

He pauses, clearly waiting for a reaction, but all I manage is to blink at him.

When I don’t respond, he continues. “I truly would love to see you again. What’s your phone number?”

Of all the things he could have said, I’m not prepared for that.

My mouth opens and closes again. I clutch my bag a little tighter, needing the grounding sensation of something solid.

I’m trying to sound firm, logical. But there’s a flicker of something reckless inside me that wants to say yes, if only to feel wanted again. Especially now that Father’s golden cage has cracked open and I’m no longer under such scrutiny.

“I’m not going to give you my phone number,” I say carefully. “You’re a complete stranger.”

His smile deepens, completely unbothered.

“Well, there’s only one way to stop being a stranger,” he says. “But I get it. You can’t be too careful… especially after a date that didn’t look like it went too well.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. Was he eavesdropping?

He chuckles at my unimpressed expression. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a card, and holds it out to me.

“There are a lot of weirdos out there. But I’d like to think I’m not one of them.”

I take the card before I can second-guess myself. It’s thick and smooth, with his name embossed in elegant type.

“Call me,” he says, but somehow it sounds more like a command.

A small, disbelieving laugh escapes me. I feel light and unsteady, like the world tilted under my feet and no one warned me.

“I’ll… maybe,” I say, and immediately wish I sounded more certain.

“Maybe,” he echoes, one brow lifting. “I’ll take that as dangerously close to yes.”

He winks, then turns and walks back to his table. No hesitation. No backward glance.

I stare after him for a beat too long before catching myself.

He greets the man who arrived while we were talking, and just before sitting down, he throws me one more of those cursed, panty-melting smiles that makes my stomach flip like it’s training for the Olympics.

With a slow grin spreading across my face, I turn and leave the café.

Well, good one, Universe.

Hasn’t this afternoon taken a dramatic turn?