Page 40 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Isabella

I wake to soft light filtering through gauzy curtains and the sound of water somewhere close.

For a moment, I don’t move. I blink a few times, willing my heavy lashes to open fully.

My head is thick, like I’ve slept too long. I rub my face with both hands as if that alone could erase the dream I can’t quite remember but can still feel in my chest.

I’m toasty warm, the sheets soft and luxurious against my bare skin.

Bare skin?

A slow, creeping awareness builds.

Oh God, did I…?

I shift beneath the covers, and the fabric brushes over sensitive skin.

No straps. No lace. No silk.

I’m naked.

A flush rises in my cheeks, heat prickling along my scalp.

I lift one corner of the sheet just to be sure. Bare skin meets morning air, and I let the sheet fall again with a gasp.

Then I move.

A small shift of my hips. And yes, it’s there …

The ache.

Low and deep and unmistakable. Not soreness exactly, but a tender, pulsing echo left behind by being taken. Slowly. Thoroughly.

A wave of heat curls through me, followed by something sharper.

It was real. I had sex with Sebastian last night. It wasn’t a dream.

Fragments come back in flashes. Hands. Mouth. Weight. Breath against my neck. Lips between my legs.

A moan. My moan.

A name—

No.

My eyes, which I hadn’t even realized had closed, snap open.

Oh God.

My breath stalls. A sharp inhale, too fast, not enough.

I had sex with Sebastian. My husband.

And the entire time, I imagined he was someone else.

Mortification shoots through me. I groan and throw an arm over my eyes. If I could sink into the mattress and disappear, I would.

Did I say his name? Out loud?

The question slams into me, and my heart stutters.

What if Sebastian heard? What if he knew?

I try to replay the moment, but the fragments of memory slip through my fingers like water. A name was on my lips. I felt it. The weight of it. Was it real? Or just in my head?

The memory flickers like a struck match, quick and bright, lighting up everything I tried to bury.

It… he was so real in my mind.

His mouth. His body. His voice.

I slide under the sheets, needing to hide from the world. Or more accurately, from Sebastian.

How am I going to face him?

Argh! What a perfectly awful way to start a new life with someone.

But the worst part?

I feel like I betrayed Luca.

Not in the technical sense. In the way that matters .

I let someone else touch me while my heart was still holding space for him. I let another man call me his while the ghost of Luca still lives inside me.

Fisting the sheets, I lie there for a moment. That’s when I feel it.

Pressure on my finger.

I rub over it with my thumb and brush against metal.

A ring.

I reemerge from my cocoon and hold out my left hand.

My wedding band catches the morning light. It’s beautiful, but…

I stare, my brow furrowing.

It’s not how I remember it from when we picked up the rings at the jeweler’s yesterday.

Mine had little diamonds all around it. Sebastian was so proud of it when he showed it to me. He had the jeweler here in Vegas make it after designing it himself.

But this ring is simple. No diamonds. Just smooth gold. Classic. Quiet.

Did I ask for something else? Oh God, that would’ve been incredibly rude after all the effort Sebastian put into it.

And where is my engagement ring? Did Sebastian take it off to make room for the wedding band?

I rack my brain, but nothing surfaces. It really irks me.

Then again, I can’t seem to recall much about anything from yesterday, least of all my own wedding.

Great. What will I tell my children one day? That Mamma got too drunk to remember saying, “I do”?

I tilt my hand in the light, staring at the ring.

It’s strange. This ring seems more honest. Not flashy. Not for show.

A quiet promise.

It’s more like something I’d have chosen for myself.

I flex my fingers a few times, and a dull ache stirs. I know I’m not used to wearing a ring, but should it be like that?

Hmm, probably just something I need to get used to.

The sound of running water filters into my awareness again, and I turn my head toward it.

The shower is still going. Good.

I’m not sure I’m ready to face my husband right now. Maybe not ever.

I sit up slowly, and my head immediately protests. A throb pulses through my skull, and I press my fingers to my temple with a hiss.

I really shouldn’t have drunk all that champagne.

Beside the bed, a small bottle of water waits on the nightstand, along with two ibuprofen tablets.

I take them both, swallowing hard, before chasing the bitter taste with half the bottle. Cool water slides down my throat, clearing the lingering haze.

I glance around the room.

It’s large, clean, and strangely homey.

The quiet luxury is familiar, but the details are off.

Softer lighting. A different scent in the air. Cooler colors.

Am I in Sebastian’s room in our suite at the Waldorf? How is his so different from mine?

Where are the soft gold tones, the plush velvet accents, and the skyline view I remember from my side of the suite?

I look out the large floor-to-ceiling window… and freeze.

Pine trees. Stretching far and wide, dense and green, brushing the edges of a pale morning sky.

There’s nothing else.

No buildings. No roads. No signs of Vegas.

Only forest. And the sea in the far distance.

This isn’t right at all.

Why are there pine trees? Why is the sea there? I’m meant to be in the desert.

I shift to the edge of the bed and get out, my skin prickling as I scan the room again, more deliberately now. My heart ticks faster.

The water sounds stop… the shower is turned off.

The bathroom door is still closed, steam curling from beneath the frame .

I take a step backward, staring at it, my breath caught.

A soft click sounds. The handle turns.

The door opens.

My eyes land on a white towel slung low around a waist. They travel higher, over exposed skin, up to the swirl of butterflies inked across it.

I blink.

Those butterflies aren’t real… are they?

They’re supposed to be in my stomach. But now they’re on his skin, and they’re wreaking havoc either way.

I knew Sebastian had tattoos. But butterflies? That doesn’t suit him at all.

My gaze keeps going upward and settles on a face.

My mouth falls open.

A rush of heat floods through me. My pulse kicks hard.

Someone must have spiked the champagne last night. I’m hallucinating.

I shut my mouth. Open it again. I want to say something, but I’m afraid the wrong name will come out.

My vision narrows. My knees go weak.

Darkness comes too fast to stop it.

And everything goes black.