Page 56 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Fifty-Five

Isabella

L uca’s fingers caress my cheeks, his eyes so earnest.

“Believe in us.

“Trust in us.

“You and I, we are real.”

Are we?

I search his face, my eyes bouncing between his. I hear his words, but they fall into a void.

What if we were just a foregone conclusion? A business deal struck in a backroom between our fathers.

He sees the doubt in my eyes.

“If you can’t believe this right now, that’s okay,” he says gently. “I have enough faith in what we are for both of us.”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

Instead, I settle back against his chest. His heartbeat, though a little fast, is steady enough to anchor me. It gives me something to focus on besides the despair tightening around my ribs.

Seeing him so distraught over having to watch me with Sebastian broke something in me.

I wallowed in my pain. How much it hurt to lose him, to grieve him. But I never considered what it cost Luca .

What it must have been like to be on the outside, watching me, unable to stop what was happening. Building a future for us I was unaware of.

Of course, it would gut him just the same for us to be apart. Because he loves me.

And I hurt him. I never meant to. And never like that.

If only I had known he was alive. I would have waited. Without hesitation.

The rage creeps in before I can stop it, my hands balling into fists. At this Hale. At Father.

Even before all these revelations, I struggled to feel any grief over his death. Antonio Accardi was a rotten man. And even if I never say it out loud, I’m glad he’s gone.

But all that doesn’t take away the guilt that’s eating at me for letting Luca down.

I want to wipe the slate clean. Erase the pain, the choices we both made out of fear and grief.

If I could go back, I’d fight harder. Hold on tighter. Refuse to be left behind and insist Luca take me with him.

But I didn’t. And I can’t turn back time.

Now everything feels shattered. Me most of all.

The more I learn, the more I unravel.

Father. Sebastian. Hale.

Lies. Deceit. Manipulation.

It’s like every memory I’ve clung to has been rewritten in someone else’s ink.

I blink rapidly, like I can shake the thought loose, but it sticks.

My throat tightens. I want to scream. To scratch at my skin just to feel something that’s mine.

There’s a hollowness inside me so vast it echoes. My body seems foreign. My memories… unreliable. Like I’ve been living a life scripted by someone else’s hand.

And yet, I’m still here, letting Luca hold the pieces together, if only for a moment.

I lean into him, not because I trust again, not yet, but because he’s the only thing that feels solid while everything else slips through my fingers.

Our foreheads touch.

Everything goes still. I listen to both of our breaths. Mine unsteady. His shallow.

“I didn’t love him,” I whisper, needing him to understand. “My heart was claimed a long time ago. I never got it back. Never wanted it back.”

The air shifts slightly, like a window cracking open after being shut for too long. Something inside me loosens. My chest opens.

The exhale from Luca is instant. His relief wraps around me.

Could he really have believed I’d ever love someone else?

“No other man could ever be deserving of you. Especially not someone like Moretti,” Luca says, his voice low but resolute.

“He’d never have seen you. Not really.

“I’m sure he realized you were beautiful. Charming. Maybe a little complicated. But he wouldn’t have asked why you never touch soy milk or why you stare at the sea like it’s the only thing that understands you.

“He wouldn’t have known you count steps when you’re anxious. That you freeze when someone raises their voice because silence has always seemed safer than defiance.

“He wouldn’t have noticed when your laughter was forced. Or when your smile was something you wore to keep the peace.”

His eyes hold mine now, unwavering.

“He wasn’t the wrong man just because he was bad, Isa. He was the wrong man because he never truly saw you.”

His hand lifts to my cheek.

“I always have.”

A single tear escapes, and he catches it with his thumb.

It’s true. He’s the only person in my life who always has.

So I do the only thing that feels real .

I press my lips to his.

I kiss Luca.

And I pour everything into it.

The grief. The rage. The years we lost. All that time I believed he was dead.

And then something else takes over.

Muscle memory. Longing. Love that never really left.

And he kisses me back.

The second my lips part, his hand slides to the back of my neck, and his mouth crashes onto mine with more force.

My pulse stutters.

The kiss isn’t soft. It’s hungry. Demanding. Raw.

There’s desperation in the way his tongue finds mine, like he needs to prove I still belong to him.

And I want to. God, part of me wants to.

I sink into it. Into him.

For the first time in what seems like forever, my mind goes still.

No fear. No doubt.

Just heat, want, and the steady thrum of his body against mine.

The taste of him, the way his arms cage around me, it soothes something sharp and aching inside. It makes me feel like I’m home.

We haven’t kissed like this in years, maybe ever.

Years.

The word slams into my brain like cold water.

Years of being apart.

Of being used.

Of believing I had choices when I didn’t.

Loss. Pain… Luca’s, mine. Sebastian. The Jackal.

Promises. Lies. Everything twisted.

I gasp against his mouth. The panic comes fast.

I press both hands to his chest and shove gently, breaking the kiss.

My breath is ragged, my skin too hot.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t do this right now.”

He looks at me, eyes stunned, lips parted like he’s trying to understand what just happened.

My voice is unsteady and barely more than a breath. Tears burn again. My throat closes.

“I don’t know anymore what’s my choice and what isn’t.”

I climb off his lap, my legs unsteady as I stand.

“Even falling in love with you… was that real? Or something we were conditioned to want?”

I reluctantly meet his gaze.

“Our fathers told us we’d marry from the time we were kids. What choice did we ever have?”

Luca’s jaw tightens, but his voice is soft when he speaks.

“Isa, falling in love isn’t something you decide or choose with your head. It’s something you feel in your heart. And we felt it. Don’t pretend we didn’t.”

I want to believe him. God, I do.

But there’s a shadow over everything now.

Doubt claws at my ribs. I shake my head, pain settling deep.

“I don’t know, Luca,” I whisper. “It feels like I don’t know anything anymore.”

I take a step back. Then another.

And I walk out.

Not because I don’t love him.

But because I need to figure out whether that love was ever truly mine.