Page 42 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Forty-One

Luca

I sa’s jaw locks. She wasn’t prepared for that.

Well, nor was I when I saw her in white walking down the aisle.

The image flashes through my mind again.

Guilt flickers through her expression.

Good.

“You said you’d wait for me.” My tone sharpens with the memory. “And yet there you were. In a wedding dress. Walking toward a man waiting at the altar who wasn’t me.”

Her eyes narrow, but I can’t stop.

“I saw you kissing him.”

The surge of rage in my chest rises so fast it makes me tremble.

“You were going to marry another man. After everything we were, you were about to give him what you promised me .”

The air between us is too loud and too still at the same time.

She’s breathing hard. So am I.

“Because I thought you were dead ,” she yells, her voice shattering on the word.

It lands like a slap.

I flinch before I can stop myself. Not because of the volume. Because of the truth.

That’s what drove her to the altar. That’s what led her to kiss someone else.

But she needs to understand something. Because that’s my truth.

“Not even death would keep me from you, Isa. You should have known that, trusted that.”

Her face contorts, eyes glistening.

“I did. For a long time. Even when Mamma explained the full extent of your father’s betrayal and tried to convince me to let you go. I held on.”

Her voice falters, but she continues.

“I held on even when my father told me you wouldn’t come back. And he loved you more than his own daughters, because you were the son he never had.”

She exhales sharply, her breath shaky with anger.

“I started trading crypto to make money, so I could escape and come find you somehow. I even got a fake passport. So don’t you dare tell me I gave up on us.”

I know. I saw it all unfold, because I never stopped watching. While Uberto pulled strings to get her a new identity, I watched from the shadows, forced to scrutinize his moves from a distance.

Stepping in wasn’t an option. Not then. Not without putting her in more danger.

And in the end, none of it mattered. The Jackal got to her anyway.

Just thinking about him pulls something primal to the surface. Isa feels it.

Her eyes narrow, like she senses the shift in me. She’s fucking mine, and someone tried to take what belongs to me.

The weight of it hangs heavy between us. She picks up on it. And when she speaks, it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

“Where the hell is Sebastian?”

The sound of his name on her lips makes my entire body tense. Something inside me short-circuits.

I step forward and keep going. She moves backward until her back hits the wall. Her eyes widen, but she holds my gaze.

I close the distance, lower my face until our eyes lock.

“Say his name again, and I’ll bend you over this bed and fuck you until the only name you can say, the only name you remember, is mine. You’ll be so full of me you won’t even know anyone else exists.”

Her breathing quickens, her chest brushing mine. The air vibrates between us, hot and tense.

She swallows, but lifts her chin in defiance.

“Where is he?”

No name this time. She knows better than to push me. She sees exactly what kind of storm she unleashed.

“Tell me,” she demands, voice tight.

She’s forcing herself to stay steady. It’s taking everything I have to do the same.

“If I had to guess,” I say, “he’s being eaten by vultures in the desert.”

She blanches.

“You killed him?”

“No. I refused to kill for years, even with my father pressing me to become a made man. I’m not starting now, not for a bastard like him. Tempting as it was.”

Her throat works to swallow. I can’t tell if she’s horrified, relieved, or both.

“So what did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything. But I did have him delivered to the Russians.”

She frowns, confused.

“Turns out he owed them a lot of money. He was on their shit list for years. Marrying him would have put you in danger.”

She stiffens. Her features freeze for a beat, and then something shifts. Her expression falters, like a crack spreading through glass. She blinks rapidly, one hand drifting to the wall behind her as if she needs something solid.

“What are you talking about?”

“Sebastian Moretti wasn’t the man you thought he was. Your meeting him was no coincidence.”

She exhales hard, as if the air has turned heavy in her lungs. Her back sags against the wall, arms wrapping around her stomach. Her brows knit together as she stares at the floor.

I can see it… how she’s replaying everything in her mind, one frame at a time. Every message. Every touch. Every lie.

The fury she threw at me minutes ago is fading. It’s still there, but something colder takes its place now. Confusion. Hurt. And betrayal.

She’s still reeling, her mind racing. It’s in the way her shoulders sink, the way her eyes stay fixed on a point that’s no longer there.

But I can’t give her time. Not for this.

Because I need to know.

“Did he touch you?”

The thought of that man’s hands on her, any man’s for that matter, makes my blood boil. It makes me regret not doing worse. I should have cut off his fingers, one at a time, for daring to touch what’s mine.

Her eyebrows lift, and her mouth tightens.

“I was engaged to him, of course he touched me. You said it yourself, you saw us kissing.” Her tone is taunting, wanting to provoke me.

She wants me to snap. But I won’t give her the upper hand.

“I was gone for a month. He wasn’t in the picture when I left.”

Which makes me wonder… was the Brazil job a setup? Did the Jackal lure me away to clear the path?

I’ll dig into that later. Right now, Isa’s meeting my gaze with fire.

“You’re not the kind of girl who jumps into bed with a stranger.” My voice hardens. “So how the hell did you get engaged so fast? And if you’re about to tell me you fell in love with him, I call bullshit.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her teeth press into her bottom lip, eyes calculating. Thinking about what? How much to admit? How to lie?

Then her expression shifts, her stare sharpening.

She doesn’t answer my question.

“You and I had sex,” she fires back instead, almost as if she just realized it.

“We did.”

And damn, it was good.

No. Not good. Fucking unforgettable.

It was five years of longing, all erupting on one night.

I hadn’t planned to take her. But when she moved against me in her sleep, warm and soft, need radiating off her in waves, I lost what little restraint I had.

It was supposed to be just one taste. A stolen moment. But I should have known better. With Isa, one taste would never be enough.

“I cannot believe you took advantage of me when I wasn’t fully conscious,” she accuses.

I meet her glare without flinching.

“You were conscious enough to know what we were doing. You participated.”

The way she moaned and clung to me, the way she begged… it will forever be seared into my memory.

Her mouth twists. “I thought I was having sex with my husband.”

My jaw locks, teeth grinding at the reminder she thought she married Moretti. Fury claws under my skin, but I choke it back.

“You were,” I say, low and measured.

Her expression falters, lips parting on a protest that never comes. Her eyes search mine, dark with confusion.

I’ll make it clear.

“ I am your husband.”