Page 81 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Eighty

Luca

M aximo doesn’t offer a hand. He studies me, sharp and cold as ice.

“So, Luca Caruso turns out to be The Venom, and one of the most wanted men in the country.” His voice is low, almost bored. “I hear you want my help.”

I don’t respond. Not right away. I let the silence stretch. Let him wonder just how desperate I am. Maybe that’ll put me in some kind of negotiating position, though I doubt it. Maximo holds all the cards.

“Tell me why I should help you?” he asks. “Your family betrayed my cousins for decades. If they were still around, I’d put you on a plane to Sicily and deliver you back with a bow.”

“My father’s sins are not mine,” I say. “He destroyed my life with his stupidity. I haven’t had contact with him for years. His actions are his own. Mine are mine. I’ve never betrayed the De Marcos; my loyalty to la famiglia has never wavered.”

Aldo’s glance flickers. “He’s married to Isabella Accardi now,” he adds, and lets the name hang.

“See,” I say drily. “We’re practically family.” Or we will be if he keeps pursuing Mia .

Maximo’s mouth doesn’t change. His stare doesn’t break.

“Let’s assume for a second I was considering helping you. What exactly is it you want?”

“You’re aware my wife has been kidnapped by Carter Hale?” I ask, relishing calling Isa that.

Maximo gives a curt nod.

“I need men,” I say. “Hale’s residence is a fortress. I can blind his systems and call his routes, but I cannot pull Isa out alone. I want to make a deal with you.”

Maximo’s laugh is small and humorless.

“Hale’s palace eats men. I need mine for Chicago. My war comes first. I won’t risk my empire for just a woman.”

I clench my jaw. The words don’t surprise me, but they still land like a punch to the ribs.

Just a woman.

That’s what Isa is to him.

Not to me, though.

She’s the breath in my lungs, the pulse in my veins, the fire that keeps me alive.

She’s everything.

“I’m willing to be in your debt,” I say. “One favor. No questions asked.”

The room stills. He knows what that means. Hell, we all do.

A blank favor from someone like me?

That’s power. And danger.

He doesn’t respond. It’s like he’s waiting.

Aldo steps in. “He’s an asset, Maximo. The best hacker in the world. He can tilt a board you’re already winning, or you can keep the favor banked for when you really need it.”

Still, Maximo remains quiet.

I hold his gaze. He holds mine. The silence presses in, heavy as stone.

Not a hum, not a breath, not even the house dares make a sound.

Absolute stillness .

He doesn’t blink. Neither do I. Every second drags.

What is he waiting for?

My offer is enough, and we both know it.

One favor from me is worth an army, worth a war. If Maximo doesn’t take it, he’s a fool.

He can posture all he likes, but this is leverage no man in his position would turn down.

So I wait.

Calm. Certain.

He shifts his stance just enough to remind me he is in no rush, like a predator savoring the hold.

His eyes stay cool, but something flickers there. He looks like a man waiting to strike.

Then his lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile.

The door slams open.

Mia storms in as if she owns the room. My eyes snap to her.

What the hell is she doing here?

“Will you help my sister…” she says to Maximo, her voice hitching for a beat before steadying, “…for me?”

The words land deliberately, her stare unflinching, as if she’s the one putting him on trial.

So she eavesdropped. Some things never change.

Maximo’s attention swings to her like a magnet. He barely moves, but something shifts. A pause too long. A silence that says more than words.

She moves him.

Her jaw is set. Her chin lifts like she’s walking into fire and refusing to slow down.

I watch his face the way I watch code compile. Microexpressions. Breath. The tiny tells.

Maximo Marcos doesn’t care about most people. But Mia gets under his skin. He wants her. That much is obvious.

But it’s more than that. Her presence warps his math, tugs on something sealed off .

I see the moment he decides what to do with it.

“I want something in return,” he says.

Of course he does.

Mia’s voice goes raw. “What?”

He gives her a look that says she already knows.

Apparently, she does.

Her laugh is brittle, hollow, like she can’t believe she’s really standing here.

She tips her face up to the ceiling for one long second, as if searching for another way out, some escape that doesn’t exist.

Fuck. I’m not going to like this, Isa even less.