Page 53 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Fifty-Two

Luca

I sa stares at me with wide eyes.

Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted like she forgot how to close them. I should probably feel guilty for how much I’m enjoying this. I don’t.

She’s always been beautiful, but right now? She’s devastating.

And I didn’t even touch her.

Yet.

It’s been hell not to.

The night I brought her home, I got carried away. That’s not like me, but I couldn’t help it. She responded like I still had a claim on her, like her body remembered even if her mind refused. And maybe that was all I needed.

The urge to feel her after so long, to mark her, was overwhelming. But since then, I’ve been giving her space. Letting her breathe. Waiting for her to come to me. She will. It’s only a matter of time.

And while I wait, I’m not above enjoying what I already have. Her attention. Her pull. The way her body still reacts to mine.

So I take another slow step toward her, savoring the way her breath hitches. She doesn’t back away again, but her fingers tighten around the cup she’s holding like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered.

She came here looking for more answers. That much is clear.

But the questions can wait.

Right now, I’m more interested in the way her gaze keeps flicking between my chest and my face, like she can’t decide which is more dangerous.

She used to look at me like that all the time. Like I was fire, and the burn was worth it.And God help me, I want her to burn again.

“You’re quiet,” I say, reaching for the towel draped over the equipment beside her. I drag it across my chest slowly, giving her a better view of the ink she’s trying not to stare at. “That’s not like you.”

Still, she says nothing. Just drinks me in with those eyes like I’m something she swore off but suddenly wants another taste of.

So I step closer.

Close enough to feel the tension humming beneath her skin. Close enough to catch the faintest tremble in her fingers.

“Is this where you slap me?” I murmur, my voice low. “Or kiss me?”

She doesn’t answer.

Her gaze lifts to mine, and for a second, I swear she’s going to close the distance.

My little farfalla’s lips part, her breath shallow. Her body shifts toward me, drawn like a magnet.

I lower my head.

Just a little.

Just enough.

One heartbeat more and our mouths will touch.

Her eyes flick to my lips, her fingers twitching at her side.

She wants this. She wants me .

The air crackles, thick and electric. The pull between us is undeniable, stronger than it’s ever been.

Give in, farfalla. Give in.

But she blinks, and the moment fractures.

Her gaze drops to my chest. Her shoulders rise with a shaky breath, like she’s trying to gather the pieces of herself I just scattered .

Hesitating for a moment, she lifts her hand and presses it over my heart. Right over the ink that bears her name.

My skin tightens under her touch.

She traces the letters slowly, the pads of her fingers barely grazing me, Like she’s not sure she’s allowed to touch me.

“When did you get this?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with something I haven’t heard in years.

Hope.

“On your eighteenth birthday… the day we were supposed to get married. It’s when I got my first butterfly too.” I point to the delicate, vibrant cobalt-blue wings inked beside her name.

I cover her hand with mine. My voice is quieter now, stripped bare.

“My heart, Isa… it’s where you’ve always lived. And my heart,” I squeeze her hand, “has always belonged to you. Only ever you.”

Her eyes lift to mine. I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips. It matches my own erratic rhythm.

She swallows, and her gaze drops to the cobalt-blue butterfly. Her fingers continue to move, tentative at first, then more surely. I lift my hand off hers and let her explore.

“True blue is rare in nature,” I murmur as she traces its wings. “And a blue butterfly signifies something rare, magical. In many cultures, it’s considered a good omen. Especially after hardship.”

She nods slowly, as if she’s afraid to hope but wants to believe in it anyway.

“There are five butterflies,” I whisper.

She grasps the meaning instantly. Her eyes flick to mine, glassy with emotion.

“One for each year we had to be apart,” she says, her voice catching at the end.

I nod, unable to speak. My jaw tightens. My body stays frozen beneath her touch, locked in place like stone, while fire simmers beneath my skin.

I can’t look away.

“Which butterfly was next?” she asks quietly .

I take her wrist gently and guide her hand to the inside of my left forearm. Her fingers brush over the skin there.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her thumb grazing it slowly, her eyes tracing the fine outline of folded-tight wings. The powder-blue ink is muted… it’s how I felt without her.

“You really never stopped…” Her words trail off, but I know what she means.

“Never, Isa.” I cover her hand with mine again, needing to touch her. “That’s why I wanted a reminder of you in my sight. This one,” I nod at the butterfly on my forearm, “I can always see.”

She swallows hard. Her hand drifts downward, hesitant, until I guide her to my right side, just above my ribs.

“This was year three.”

Her touch is feather-light, but the moment her fingers find the shattered pattern there, her shoulders tense.

The ink is jagged, fragmented. Wings cracked apart like broken glass. Some edges fade into nothing, like they’re still falling.

“This one…” she whispers, her eyes lifting to mine.

“Was the hardest,” I say, feeling raw all over again. “That year broke me. Not because I stopped loving you. Never that. But because he found out about you.”

Her brow furrows. “Who?”

“The Jackal.”

Even saying the name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Who is he? And why does it matter if he found me?”

“It matters, Isa.” The words come out sharper than I intend, tight with everything I’ve never said. I force my tone lower. “Because it meant he knew who I was. And he found the one thing he could use to hurt me.”

She blinks, taken aback.

“Him getting to you, Isa… it was, and is, my worst nightmare. And he came so fucking close.”

She places a hand on my chest, gently, as if trying to steady both of us .

“I don’t understand, Luca,” she says softly, like she’s trying to soothe a wild animal.

I take a breath. Not to calm down, but to organize the chaos in my head.

“When I started gaining traction in the hacker world, a quiet, invite-only competition was announced. No rules, no mercy. A hundred million in prize money. Winner takes all.”

Her eyes widen.

“Of course I entered. That kind of money would set us up for life. But more than that, winning meant prestige. People like the Jackal live for that kind of glory. And in the end, it came down to him and me. The Jackal versus the Venom.”

“And you won.”

“I didn’t just win. I humiliated him. Out-hacked him clean. No bragging, no trail, no fanfare. That’s what burned him most.

“He’s loud. Flashy. Territorial. Getting beaten in his own arena by a ghost with a name he couldn’t trace drove him over the edge.”

I pause. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

“The day the funds hit my account, he sent a message. Just one line. No threats, no swearing, none of his usual dramatic bullshit.

“No one makes me look like a fool.

“That’s when I knew. He wasn’t just angry. He was out for blood.”

Isa’s hand tightens over my chest.

“He treats hacking like a hunt. Once he marks his prey, he doesn’t stop. And that day, he became obsessed with destroying me.”

She swallows. “But how did he find me?”

I shake my head slowly. “Because he’s good. The best at finding ghosts. At digging into the dark corners no one else can reach. And back when I first started, I made mistakes.

"After we left Sicily, I thought I was being careful. But I wasn’t as skilled at covering my tracks as I am now. He followed the crumbs. Pieced together who I really was. And then… he found you.”

Isa’s lips part in semi-shock.

“I did everything I could to trace him in return. Every node, every alias, every burner account. I didn’t sleep. I hunted. But then the third year rolled around. And that’s when I got proof he had his eyes on you.”

Her brows pull together, concern written all over her beautiful face.

“The chocolates,” I tell her.

She still doesn’t understand.

“I sent them, like I did the previous two years. But that time… they didn’t reach you.”

Her eyes shine. “I thought you might have moved on or, worse… were dead.”

“How could I ever move on from you, Isa? You are my everything.”

Something in her shifts. Her lashes lower for a second, like she’s holding back more than tears.

She lifts her gaze to mine again, slower this time. And I see it. It’s what I’ve ached for since the moment we were torn apart.

Her love.

Still there. Still burning. Guarded, yes. But undeniable.

“So what happened?” she asks, not ready to voice what’s going on inside her.

“One of my associates called and told me he’d received a box of chocolates with a note tucked inside.”

I pause. The words are harder now. “The note said: So romantic. Sweet things for a sweet girl. She sure is something else. ”

Isa flinches like the words physically hit her. Her hand curls in at her chest, protectively, like she’s realizing how exposed she really was.

Fuck the Jackal for all he’s cost us.

“It gutted me, watching you on the feed that night, waiting for something I knew I’d sent, only to realize it never arrived.

“That was the moment I knew I had to stop. No more gifts. No more contact. Not even that one time a year. He was watching you. Tracking every move.”

She looks stunned. “And you thought if you pulled away, he’d lose interest.”

“I hoped,” I say quietly. “I hoped that if I gave him nothing, he’d let it go.”

“But he didn’t?”

I shake my head. “No. He changed tactics.”

Her eyes narrow, like the pieces are starting to shift into place. She shudders.

“Was I in danger this whole time?” Her voice is fragile, brittle, like she’s afraid of the answer.

“He wasn’t going to hurt you physically. That’s not how he rolls. He wanted to destroy me… a different way.”

“I feel like I’m constantly repeating myself, Luca, but I don’t understand.”

“He didn’t want to kill you, Isa. He wanted to take you away from me.”

She goes still, eyes locked on mine. Her mouth opens and closes again.

“Take me away… how?” she asks at last, the words barely audible.

I look at her, really look at her, and let the silence stretch. Saying it out loud hurts, because The Jackal came so close to succeeding.

I draw a breath and tell her.

“He sent his cousin. Sebastian.”