Page 31 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Thirty

Isabella

“ I want to kiss you.”

The words echo in my head. Sebastian said them so low, so close, it feels like a secret meant only for me.

My heart stumbles over itself, the pull to him impossible to ignore.

My mind is mush.

I nod once before I can overthink it.

He steps closer, his hand rising to my cheek, warm and sure. His thumb brushes my skin, and the softness of it steals my breath. God, how I’ve missed tender touches like this.

With blue eyes fixed on me, his mouth finds mine. The kiss is slow and deliberate, meant to be savored rather than rushed.

This is only the second man to ever kiss me.

And it’s good.

Confident. No surprise there.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. And for a moment, I let myself sink into it, let myself enjoy the heat of his closeness and the press of his mouth on mine.

Oh, I’ve forgotten how nice it is to be kissed.

But then… something shifts .

A small voice inside me whispers I’m betraying Luca.

He’s not here. He’s dead. He’s never coming for me.

I need to be here, now.

Still, Luca’s memory lingers. His kisses had an overwhelming pull, a sense of falling so fast it felt like flying. This is simpler. The heat is there, but it doesn’t set my soul alight the way it once did.

Sebastian deepens the kiss, and his hand moves to the back of my neck. His mouth is firmer now, his body close enough I sense the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine. My fingers clutch his shirt without thinking, holding on because my balance seems off.

I push thoughts of Luca to the back of my mind, trying to let the world narrow down to Sebastian’s warmth, his mouth, the way his thumb strokes my jaw as if he’s memorizing it.

I’m on the verge of losing myself in his touch, but when his other hand slides to my waist, fingertips brushing the bare skin above my waistband and traveling higher, the spell breaks.

I pull back, breathless but certain.

“No.”

He blinks, surprised, but there’s no offense in his eyes. Just curiosity.

“Too soon?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t mean to push,” he says gently, his hands falling back to his sides.

“I know. But if I give in because it feels good, it might quickly turn into something physical and shallow. And that’s not what I want.”

He studies me for a beat, his expression softening. “I get that. And I respect it.”

I nod, grateful he isn’t pushing, that he’s making it easy to say no.

“Sebastian, I come from a very traditional family. I’m not sleeping with someone unless I’m serious about them.”

I add this last bit to set the right expectations. That seems to be important with someone as enigmatic as Sebastian Moretti, who could no doubt have any woman he wants .

Something flickers in his gaze, gone before I can name it. He nods.

“Fair enough. I can work with that.”

“Work with it?”

“I like you, Isabella. I don’t need shortcuts.”

His words settle somewhere warm in my chest, softening some of my doubt. But not all of it. Because no matter how easy this seems, part of me can’t stop wondering how much of what he says is real.

Could it really be this simple to find a husband outside of Mafia-arranged marriages?

I have no point of reference. Maybe it is when you make your boundaries clear.

Or maybe… this is all Sebastian Moretti.

And I wonder, not for the first time, who he really is.

He told me he works in his family’s real estate investment company and is set to take over from his father in the next few years. Everything sounds normal. Safe. Not Mafia.

Still, I will do that background check. Better safe than sorry.

A week has passed since our first date and that kiss. Today, Sebastian sends a car to take me to his estate in the countryside outside Catania. It’s peaceful here in a way only early afternoon can be, when the sun is high but soft, casting pale gold over everything and making the world feel quiet.

Despite being nervous about what I agreed to do, I’m excited to see Sebastian again. We’ve spoken every day, some days multiple times. It’s scary how quickly he seems to have become a fixture in my day. There’s a familiarity with him now that shouldn’t be there after only two weeks.

But I’m going with the flow, smothering the doubts that won’t stop churning in my gut. Because this is what I want, isn’t it? Plan NUPTIAL is progressing at lightning speed .

When I arrive at the Moretti estate, Sebastian is already waiting near the stables, two horses saddled and ready. One is sleek and alert, nostrils flaring as if challenging the world. The other is… not.

I casually close the distance between us. He opens his arms, and I don’t hesitate to step into them. His eyes find mine, warm and steady, and for a breath I forget about the horses, the ride, everything but him.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, voice low.

Before I can answer, his hand slides lightly to my cheek, and he leans in, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that lingers long enough to make my heart stumble.

There’s nothing rushed about it. Just the soft press of his lips, the warmth of him, the way the world seems to revolve around us.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His thumb brushes my jaw, and his smile holds that mix of confidence and gentleness that seems to undo me.

“Ready?” he asks.

“I can’t believe I’m really going riding with you. How did you talk me into this?”

Sebastian grins at me, the kind of grin that makes it impossible to remember why I was nervous in the first place.

“This one’s yours,” he says, motioning to the chestnut, whose ears flick lazily as if even that small effort is beneath her.

“Is she dead?”

“Only emotionally.”

“Perfect. We’ll get along great then.”

I shoot him a look as I approach the horse. “Be honest. Did you pick the slowest one you had because you expect me to fall off?”

“No,” he says, as I step closer. “I picked Luna because she won’t take off on you, no matter how bad your steering is.”

“So… yes.”

He grins. “I’m just being responsible. You said you’re traditional, remember? I’m protecting your virtue and your tailbone.”

He turns to the horse, adjusting the reins before facing me again. His expression softens, that grin of his giving way to something gentler. “Let me help you.”

His hands come to my waist, and in one smooth movement he lifts me into the saddle as if I weigh nothing at all. He steadies me, his hands lingering a second longer than necessary, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

“You look good up there,” he says, and that grin of his makes it impossible not to smile back.

“You better keep the compliments coming, given you only adhered to one of my conditions about riding.”

“I promise the path we’re taking is easy and flat. It’s not true cross-country.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“And as for the fancy boots…” He disappears into the stable for a minute and comes back out, swinging a large paper shopping bag like a triumph.

He pulls out a box and opens it, revealing a pair of brand-new, fancy riding boots.

“They’re for me?”

He looks around dramatically, pretending to scan the area. “You’re the only one here these boots could fit.”

He takes them out of the box and comes around to the left side of Luna, who hasn’t moved an inch. He pulls off my sneaker and slips my foot into the boot. Then he does the same on the other side, his touch so easy, so unhurried, it sends a shiver up my spine.

“How did you know my shoe size?”

“I’m observant. And I’m very good at guessing sizes.”

“Hmm. Does that mean you do this often?” I gesture to the horse, the boots, and myself perched awkwardly on the saddle.

“Isabella Accardi, are you jealous?” His grin widens, teasing, but his eyes search mine, like the answer matters more than he lets on.

Am I?

The idea of him doing this for another woman, of another woman sitting here where I am now, with his hands at her waist and that focused attention, twists something in my chest .

I don’t dignify his question with an answer, but raise an expectant eyebrow instead.

“You’re the first woman I’ve allowed in my stables. This place is special to me. It’s where I can be myself, doing what I love. It’s not something I ever wanted to share with someone before.”

“And now you do?” I ask as he mounts his horse, the one that looks like it’s ready to race the wind.

He brings his horse alongside mine, so close that my knee brushes the leather of his saddle. His eyes meet mine.

“And now I do.”

For a moment, my chest tightens. The way he looks at me, like I’m not just a woman on a horse beside him but something more.

Like I’m someone he chose. Someone who matters. And it terrifies me how much I want to believe it.

I blink, trying to shake off the weight of it, and focus on Sebastian’s voice as he explains the basics before we set out.

He shows me how to hold the reins, how to sit, how to signal the horse to move. Strangely I seem to have a knack for this… or Luna is just good with a novice.

Now we ride side by side, the horses settling into a slow, steady rhythm as we follow a trail lined with olive trees.

The air smells of warm earth and faint citrus, and I find myself starting to relax. The sway of the horse beneath me isn’t as terrifying as I expected. It’s almost soothing.

For a while, neither of us speaks. The silence is comfortable, like we’re sharing something without needing words.

Thunder, Sebastian’s horse, edges close enough that my knee brushes the leather of his saddle again, and the heat of him seems closer than it should.

Sebastian glances over at me, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said about your family.”

Oh. My stomach drops, and I shift uneasily in my saddle.

Let’s hope he doesn’t want to dive deeper into my family dynamics. I’m not sure how I would even begin to explain the whole Mafia thing. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about it for long.

“My family’s old-school too,” he says, his tone softer now.

I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“In what way?” I ask, genuinely curious.

He hesitates for a beat, as if weighing how much to share. Then he smiles, but there’s a hint of something heavier beneath it.

“They believe in tradition. Legacy. They want me settled, married, grounded. Preferably sooner rather than later.”

My ears prick up at ‘married’.

“That sounds like a lot to carry,” I say, watching the way his posture straightens as he speaks, like the weight of those expectations is always there.

“It is. But that’s how it works when you’re born into a family business. I don’t have to marry someone they choose, but I do have to prove I’m ready. That I’m serious. If I don’t by the end of next year, someone else will be handed the reins.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice, only a quiet acceptance that somehow makes it feel heavier. But something flickers in his expression, the smallest shadow, gone before I can name it.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” I murmur.

“It is,” he agrees. He glances at me again, his gaze steady, the playfulness from earlier gone. “So yeah. I’m not looking for a fling either.”

The way he says it seems to electrify the air. Not uncomfortable. Just… loaded. Like he’s telling me more than the words alone convey.

I remind myself I’ve done my homework. After our first date, I ran a background check on Sebastian Moretti.

Everything came up clean. A few speeding tickets, but nothing else.

No scandals. No whispers of trouble.

And if he’s a playboy, he’s very discreet. The only photos I found of him with women were at charity galas or fundraisers, and at all of them he was with his sisters. He sounds too good to be true. Or maybe I hit the jackpot.

This admission of his deepens things. At least for me.

This isn’t just flirtation. Not anymore.

“Guess we’re both on the same page then.”