Page 4 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Three

Isabella

L uca pulls back to meet my eyes, his breath shallow, his chest rising like he’s holding back something too big to name. Slowly, he lifts me in his arms and carries me to the bed.

The soft rustle of rose petals greets us as he lowers me onto the covers. Air slips from my lungs as I take in what surrounds us.

Scattered between the blooms are tiny paper butterflies, trembling like they might lift off and take flight. Delicate. Beautiful. Like magic made real.

“You did this?” I whisper, my voice barely there.

He nods, gaze locked on mine. “I wanted to give you something beautiful. Because you are, inside and out.”

My heart twists. I reach up and touch his face, my thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. “You already have. By looking at me like you do.”

His mouth finds mine again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s not just kissing me, he’s taking his time to memorize it.

His hands move with quiet intent, slipping beneath my clothes and peeling them away like he’s unwrapping something special. Until I’m bare. Open. Held in the center of a bed made of blooms and breathless wonder.

He draws back to look at me, and the way he sees me makes my body ache. My skin tingles, heat blooming everywhere his eyes touch.

“You’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.

And when he lowers his lips to my collarbone and begins to worship me, I can tell he means it.

He takes his time, every caress filled with reverence. His lips skim the curve of my shoulder. His hands explore me like he’s mapping me again, finding something new each time.

Each kiss is deliberate. Grounded. As if he’s tasting me for the first and last time. Like I’m the answer to a prayer he never dared to speak aloud.

I arch beneath him, my fingers threading into his hair, breath caught between a gasp and a moan as his mouth trails lower. When he kisses the underside of my breast, I tremble. When he goes lower still, my mind blanks entirely.

Every touch feels sacred. Offered to the gods. But I’m the one receiving the devotion.

“Luca,” I breathe, coming undone. “Please.”

He lifts his head, eyes dark with hunger but soft with something deeper. Love that doesn’t only burn. It claims.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs and lowers himself again, dragging fire across my skin until I can barely hold still.

His hands part my thighs with care. The way his eyes linger on me makes me feel powerful. Wanted. Seen .

“Look at you,” he says, his voice thick. “So perfect like this. All mine.”

The first stroke of his tongue tears a sound from me I didn’t know I could make. One hand fists in the petals, the other gripping his hair as he tastes me.

He moans against me like I’m the most addictive thing he’s ever known. And maybe I am.

But in this moment, he’s everything. The world begins and ends where his mouth touches me .

He’s patient but relentless, building me higher and higher until my body shakes with the need to let go. He holds me there, wanting me to feel every second of it. Until I break. Until I’m nothing but sensation and the shape of his name on my lips.

When he finally rises, his lips kiss-bruised and glistening, I reach for him like I won’t survive without him.

“I need you,” I whisper, desperate. “Now.”

He doesn’t make me wait. He gets naked, rolls on a condom, and slides into me in one smooth stroke, and the air rushes from my lungs. I cry out, nails digging into his back as he fills me.

We move together in a rhythm that’s older than time. His hands cradle my face as he thrusts deep, worship and need tangled in every movement.

“Isa,” he groans into my neck. “I want to crawl inside you and never leave.”

“Then don’t, mio falco ,” I whisper. “Stay. Always.”

His hand finds mine and threads our fingers together, pressing them over my heart.

His thrusts speed up, becoming less controlled, more erratic.

We fall together.

The world narrows to the rush of sensation, the brilliant, sweet burn of release. My cry rips free, tangled with his as everything inside me comes undone.

For a moment, I forget where I end and he begins.

He collapses over me, and I pull him in, arms trembling, not wanting a single inch between us. His weight grounds me, anchoring me as aftershocks ripple through, one after another.

His skin is damp against mine, his breath ghosting over my shoulder. Our hearts pound together until the frenzy slowly begins to ease.

There’s nothing but heat, breath, and the quiet thrum of us.

A closeness that feels unbreakable.

Crushed petals cling to my skin, the scent of roses in the air, reminding me how special today is .

When Luca finally lifts his head and kisses me again, it’s slow. Steady.

He’s in no rush to let me go, and I relish it.

I don’t want to move.

Not from this bed. Not from him. Not from this version of myself.

The one who isn’t a name, or a duty, or someone to be shaped into a future that isn’t hers. Just me. And him.

Luca shifts, leaning on one elbow, brushing the hair from my face. His fingers linger on my skin, slow and gentle, like he’s marking the moment.

His eyes are soft now. The fire in them has quieted, leaving behind something that looks a lot like peace.

My fingers trace the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his shoulder, and the faint scar near his collarbone. The one I gave him last year when my arrow grazed him while he was teaching me to shoot with a compound bow.

Damn, we were lucky it wasn’t worse.

I didn’t want to look at that bow ever again. But Luca wouldn’t let me quit. He said I couldn’t let one setback stop me. And I haven’t. He made sure of it. I’m almost as good as he is now.

“Happy birthday,” he says, smiling, his breath even again. “Now… are you ready for your present?”

A laugh slips out. “I thought this was it.” I motion to the roses, the butterflies, the glow of fairy lights. Him.

He grins and slides off the bed, completely unbothered by his nakedness as he crosses the room.

I sit up, watching him. How could I not?

His back, the shift of his muscles, the quiet certainty in the way he moves. It isn’t just that he’s beautiful. It’s that he’s him . Steady. Confident. And somehow, thank God, he sees me more clearly than anyone ever has.

He disappears into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. When he comes back, he crouches beside his jacket, rummages through a pocket, and returns with something small between his fingers. A black velvet box.

We’re already engaged, his ring sparkling on my finger, but my heart still skips a beat.

He climbs onto the bed beside me and sits cross-legged, the box resting in his palm.

“Open it,” he says.

I take it carefully. The lid snaps open with a soft click.

Inside, nestled in black satin, is a gold chain. At its center is a butterfly. Pale crystal wings edged in soft pink, lavender, and an icy blue color like captured light.

My throat tightens.

“It reminded me of you,” he says, his voice softer now. “Beautiful. Light. Free. Even when it doesn’t seem like you are.”

His words hit something deep.

“Luca…”

He looks down for a second, clearing his throat. “I know it’s just a necklace. But it’s more than that to me. You’re more than what your father wants to make you into. And I see that.”

I don’t think. I just move.

Wrapping my arms around him, I press my cheek to his chest, holding on like I never want to let go.

“It’s perfect,” I say, so full of love for him. “Like you.”

He takes the necklace from the box and clasps it around my neck. His fingers brush my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The crystal catches the twinkling fairy lights, scattering rainbows across his chest.

He looks at it for a long beat, then leans down and kisses my skin below the pendant, right over my heart.

“There,” he murmurs. “Now I’m always with you. Even when I can’t be.”

My eyes sting again.

He slides a finger beneath my chin, lifting my face until I’m looking straight into his eyes.

Warm, hazel-brown. Calm.

“I love you, Isa. You’re mine. ”

His voice is low and rough, like the words were torn out of him.

My stomach flips, my heart dancing with joy.

I want to be his in every way. Not just now. Always.

A life without him doesn’t make sense. And thank God I don’t have to imagine it.

Out of nowhere, the sharp ring of a phone shatters our magical stillness, cutting me off from telling him how much I love him.

“Who would call you this late?” I ask as Luca reaches for his pants to get his phone.

He frowns. “Unknown number.” His eyes narrow.

Something shifts in him. It’s subtle, but I sense it. His jaw tightens, and his fingers drum restlessly against the case.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting straighter.

The hairs on my arms lift, something inside me on alert.

I stare at the phone in his hand. It keeps ringing. Stops. A beat of silence. Then it starts again.

Luca looks at me. There’s something in his eyes now, hesitation and tension, something coiled and bracing. He answers.

He doesn’t put it on speaker, but the voice on the other end is loud enough to carry.

“Luca, where are you?”

His mother. Panic edges her words.

Every part of me stills.

Something’s wrong.

Badly wrong.

Her next words spill out even more frantically.

“We’re at the restaurant. You need to come out. Now.”