Page 50 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Forty-Nine

Luca

I set the plate down in front of Isa and watch as she picks up her fork and knife, slicing into the involtini without a word.

She hasn’t spoken since she came back ten minutes ago. She walked into the kitchen like a ghost, and the tension thickened instantly.

I hate it.

It’s never been like this between us. Sure, we had the occasional argument, but it always blew over as fast as it flared up. Forgotten before it had time to land.

“Isa,” I say softly. I wait for her to look at me, but she keeps her eyes fixed on her plate, cutting into the grilled zucchini with deliberate calm.

She’s not going to make this easy.

“I didn’t want to keep the agreement with your father from you,” I continue, watching for any shift in her expression. “But for our engagement to continue, he had one condition.”

Her knife pauses mid-cut, just for a second, before she resumes. No reaction. No words.

I press on.

“He made me swear not to tell you. Said everyone knew how close we were. That if you sensed anything, you wouldn’t be able to fake it. He needed your grief to be real. Your hesitation with other men to be convincing.”

She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t stop chewing.

But then she says quietly, “So you let me suffer your loss.”

Her voice is flat, almost casual. But it cuts deeper than any scream.

Pain rips through my chest.

I close my eyes briefly, swallowing it down before I answer.

“I did.” No softening it. No excuses. Because there are none.

“I would have agreed to anything to stop your father from finding you another husband,” I add. “And we both know he would have. Hell, he probably already had a list.”

I force myself to hold her silence. To take whatever she gives me. Even if it’s nothing.

She chews, her eyes distant, like she’s still processing this new piece of information.

I hope she sees it for what it was. That I bought us time. That I saved her from being shoved into a loveless, maybe even brutal marriage. I’d have done anything to make sure she stayed mine.

And I did.

But there are more things I need her to understand.

“I sent the chocolates because I couldn’t stand the thought of you believing I’d forgotten your birthday.

Or what that day was supposed to be. I needed you to know that marrying you was still all I wanted.

And the only way I could say it at the time was with chocolate wedding rings on a butterfly’s wings. ”

Isa still doesn’t speak, but a single tear slips down her cheek. Her gaze lifts to mine, eyes glassy, and she gives a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It’s enough. For now.

I think she heard me. I want to believe she’s starting to understand.

Or maybe I’m just praying she is.

The silence lingers. But she stays.

And that has to count for something.