Page 43 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Forty-Two

Luca

I sa stares at me, and I can’t tell if it’s horror or disbelief reflected in her eyes. Maybe it’s both.

“You and I?” Her voice trembles, then hardens. “We are married ?”

Her gaze drops to her hand. She twists the ring as if it holds a secret. And it does. One she’ll uncover soon enough. A flicker of pain crosses her face as she flinches. Small. Barely noticeable.

But I see it.

And deep inside, something dark and satisfied coils low in my chest.

“I don’t remember saying I do to you.”

“Perhaps not,” I say with a shrug. “Still, the papers are signed. Filed. We are officially married. And our union is consummated.”

She straightens, shoulders squaring, defiance rising in her like a wave.

“Which brings me back to what I said first,” she spits. “How could you do that to me? You drugged me, Luca. I was disoriented. You can’t seriously think that counts as consent.”

My jaw tightens. I take a slow breath, steadying myself.

“You are my wife. In our world, most men take what belongs to them. ”

Her eyes blaze.

“But you’re not most men. You never were. You taught me to fight , to think for myself. You saw me.” Her voice cracks, but she doesn’t back down. “Don’t you dare act like I was just something to take.”

She’s right. At least about that.

I never touched her without her consent before. Never would’ve crossed that line.

But this wasn’t just about possession. It was recognition. Instinct. Our bodies finding each other after years apart, acting before the mind could catch up.

“The way you reacted…” I begin, staring at her. “You knew it was me. I could feel it. You responded to me .”

Her hands curl into fists at her sides.

Her eyes flash. “I thought you were Se… him.”

She cuts herself off before the name slips free. My little butterfly knows I don’t make idle threats.

Shame.

I want nothing more than to remind her who she belongs to. To make her feel it all over again.

“And yet you moaned my name.” I take a step closer, my tone softer, but sharper than before. A blade hidden in velvet. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But I know the truth. And so do you.”

Her nostrils flare. “You want the truth?” she spits. “Fine.”

She yanks the ring from her finger and throws it at me. It hits my chest and drops to the floor between us with a sharp metallic clink.

“I wish I had screamed your name, so I could take it back.”

She turns to leave but stops cold.

Her hand hovers in front of her. She stares at the skin where the ring sat a heartbeat ago, blinking. Her body goes still like a statue.

Her knees bend slightly, as though the ground tilted beneath her.

“What the hell?” she whispers.

Her eyes widen as she takes in the ink circling her finger. Black. Permanent. My name repeatedly etched into her skin.

Luca. Luca. Luca .

She stares at it like it’s a brand. And it is.

Her words come out hoarse, horrified. “What did you do?”

I meet her gaze. “You were mine before the ring. I just made it official.”

She shakes her head slowly, like she’s trying to wake from a nightmare.

“You tattooed your name on me? Without telling me?”

“You said yes. You just don’t remember.”

She presses her hand to the mark, trying to rub it away, like it’s something temporary.

“You don’t get to own me,” she says. “Not like this.”

She steps back. Her voice is quieter now, but every word hits like a punch.

“You took my choice. You took everything.”

She turns and walks out, her shoulders stiff, her steps fast and furious. The door slams behind her.

The ring stays where it fell, glinting on the floor, like it at least remembers who she belongs to.