Page 47 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)
Chapter Forty-Six
Isabella
T he words hang between us, thick with the kind of hurt that doesn’t fade with time.
Luca doesn’t answer right away. His jaw ticks, and his eyes drop, like he’s trying to find the least painful truth in a minefield of regret.
But I can’t wait. The silence is unbearable.
“I don’t understand,” I say, my voice trembling. “Why didn’t you try to reach out? We could have come up with a plan. We could have figured something out together . Why only send me birthday chocolates? And then stop after two years?”
The questions come faster now, tumbling out of me like a dam breaking.
“Why not send a message? A sign? Anything?”
He finally looks at me, and his expression is a mix of anguish and restraint.
“The first year, your family was under strict surveillance,” he says, his strain evident. “Because of the close bond between our fathers, the De Marcos scrutinized everything. If they had discovered any communication between us… there would have been no mercy.”
His gaze darkens.
“You know the law as well as anyone in la famiglia . Loyalty above all. No exceptions.”
He swallows hard, like the next words taste like ash.
“They would have killed all of you.”
I flinch.
I do know the law. I was raised on it. But I would have broken it a million times over if it meant being in touch with Luca.
“You think I didn’t want to call? To tell you I was alive?” His voice rises, cracking at the edges. “But I would never risk your life! Even if that meant we both had to go through hell.”
He exhales hard, and somehow, my body mirrors his. My shoulders fall, heavy and defeated, like they’ve been carrying his silence all this time.
“Your father was very much aware of the danger too,” Luca says more softly now. “That’s why he confiscated the phone and laptop I had given you. He was protecting you.”
“More like protecting himself,” I snarl. “Father always looked out for himself first.”
God, my chest aches. “But I had your laptop. From the hideout. I went back for it when Father took mine. You must’ve known I would.”
“Of course I did,” he says. “But it wasn’t worth the risk. If they suspected anything, they’d have questioned you… interrogated you.”
A shiver runs through me. We all know what Mafia interrogations really mean.
“I wanted you to be able to say you knew nothing. To tell the truth. I didn’t want you to have to lie, because they would have seen through it.”
He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Isa, staying out of your reach… it was the only way I could protect you.”
His words punch the air out of my lungs, and tears sting my eyes. I try to hold them in, blink them back, but the next second, they’re rolling freely down my cheeks.
He reaches out, wiping them away carefully, his fingers trembling ever so slightly.
His brow furrows, eyes locked on mine like he’s trying to say something he can’t. Like he’d undo the past if he could.
I stare at him, heart pounding. His touch is so tender, so familiar, it hurts.
But I don’t want his comfort. Not now.
As reasonable as his excuses sound, I didn’t want reason.
I wanted us to defy it all.
The rules. The laws. The fear.
I jerk to my feet, needing distance, needing to sever the pull between us.
“ Farfalla ,” he says, not happy I pulled away. “I suffered too. Every damn day. Being apart from you… it was torture. The only thing that kept me breathing was watching you through the camera. Knowing you were still there.”
The camera in my room…
How many times did I stare into it, silently begging him to be on the other side?
Hearing he actually was soothes something raw in me. And it pisses me off even more.
Because the comfort was only his.
“How nice for you to watch me from a distance,” I spit. “ I didn’t have that.”
My hand flies to the back of my neck, rubbing the tension coiled tight there. I flinch when my fingers brush a tender spot near my hairline. It’s sore, but I push past it. I’m too fired up to care right now.
My voice trembles. “I didn’t get to see you. I grieved you as if you were dead.”
He flinches, like the words cut straight through him.
“No,” he says quietly. “You didn’t have that comfort. But I was with you. Every. Fucking. Day. Whether you knew it or not.”
I slowly set the thermos down, suddenly aware of how tightly I’ve been clutching it. My hands are shaking.
“So you kept your distance to keep me safe,” I say coldly. “But you still sent me chocolates on my eighteenth birthday.”
I swallow hard. “The day that was supposed to be our wedding day.”
His eyes hold mine, but he doesn’t speak.
“And instead,” I go on, the words catching in my throat, “I had to get dolled up and was paraded around like some show pony. A prized mare trotted out on my father’s arm for all the eligible la famiglia bachelors to inspect.”
My voice breaks.
“Do you have any idea how degrading that was? How much of me died that night… every time I had to smile. Every time I had to pretend you and I never happened.”
I remember standing there, dress too tight, heels pinching, my skin crawling under those ravenous stares.
I smiled like the good, obedient daughter I was supposed to be, but inside I was slipping further and further away.
Like I was watching it all from the outside, screaming but unheard.
And with every second, it felt like I was burying us a little deeper.
Luca jumps to his feet now too, like he can’t stay still another second. He takes a step toward me, but I throw up a hand, stopping him.
“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t come any closer.”
“You were never going to marry any of those men,” he grits out.
“Oh really?” My laugh is bitter. “What were you going to do? Kidnap me from my wedding? Like you did in Vegas?”
He shakes his head. “No. While your father was still alive, we had an agreement.”
My eyes snap to his.
“What?”
Luca’s expression shifts, his eyes darkening with something unreadable.
And he says nothing.
My stomach drops.
“You’re kidding,” I whisper. “You’re seriously not going to tell me?”
The rage creeps back in, unstoppable like molten lava.
“So help me God, Luca, spill . I’ve had enough of all the secrets.”