Page 9 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Eight

Isabella

T he restaurant hums with an understated elegance, all soft lighting and low voices. Crystal glasses catch the glow from the chandeliers, and a pianist in the corner plays something delicate that fades into the background like a sigh.

This place is Father-approved. All high-end restraint, with none of the chaos that usually fills our dinners at home when he’s not present.

Like so many other birthday dinners, tonight it’s just us girls. Father has business elsewhere. Thank God, or it wouldn’t have been much of a celebration.

Mamma lets her gaze sweep over the five of us. Her smile is gentle and graceful, as is expected of the wife of Antonio Accardi.

We’ve finished the main course and dessert. Everyone has tactfully avoided the looming topic of Mari’s engagement party, as if silence alone might make it disappear.

Well, here’s to dreaming.

Sometimes it seems like that’s all we’re ever allowed to do.

“I still can’t believe you made this,” I say to Mari, running my hand down the front of my beautiful dress.

Not surprisingly, it fits perfectly. Mari has such a gift. She’d make a brilliant fashion designer. People would flock to her.

If only she were allowed to follow her passion. Instead, she’s about to be chained to one of la famiglia’s most ruthless enforcers.

Mari smiles, the corner of her mouth tugging upward, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You’re welcome. It was a good distraction.”

“I want one too,” Sienna cuts in. “Same fit, different color. Maybe in emerald green… for my seventeenth birthday next year.”

Mamma clears her throat. “Your father wouldn’t like that.”

Sienna doesn’t even blink. “He doesn’t need to find out.”

That earns a round of smothered laughter. Even Mamma presses her napkin to her mouth to hide her smile.

“Well,” she says after a beat, folding her hands neatly in her lap, “your father won’t be around after Mari’s engagement party this Saturday.”

We all pause, eyes lighting up around the table.

Mia grins. “Really? Should we order champagne?”

“Is he traveling?” I ask, lifting a brow.

“He’s joining Don De Marco on a trip to Canada next week.”

“Canada?” Mia asks. “He should send us a postcard… and never come back.”

“Mialina,” Mamma scolds, though it sounds more like affection than a reprimand. She has a soft spot for her middle daughter, who gets away with more than any of us.

Mamma might not play favorites, but some things slip past her. Like how she’s always harder on Ariana. You’d think the youngest would get the most slack, but that was never the case.

I remember when Ari was born. I was eight. Mamma looked heartbroken, not because she didn’t love her, but because she already knew what would come.

Father had made it painfully clear that another daughter was a disappointment. For a while, he was impossible to be around. And Mamma took the worst of it.

The news of his absence settles over us like a breath of fresh air .

I laugh, relaxing into my seat. The wine we had with dinner warms me from the inside, making my limbs soft and heavy.

My gaze drifts across the room and locks on two intense blue eyes staring straight at me.

I freeze, my breath catching halfway to my lungs.

For a second, I forget how to look away.

Even from this distance, the color of his eyes burns like sapphires in firelight… impossible to ignore.

I take in the rest of him. Late twenties, dark blond hair that curls at the edges, just a touch too long.

Sun-warmed golden skin, a strong jaw, a straight nose—nothing like the ones on my father’s men— and lips sculpted to tempt, unfairly perfect. His charcoal suit is tailored to a body that clearly sees the inside of a gym more than a few times a week.

I glance at the other two men at his table, deep in conversation and unaware of their friend’s distraction. My eyes drift back to him. His are still locked on me.

Instead of looking away like most men do when they’re caught, he holds my gaze. And then he smiles.

Slow. Confident. A smile made for disarming.

My stomach flips. My fingers tighten around my wineglass. Heat creeps up the back of my neck.

I look away too quickly, my heart skipping once, twice, like it’s forgotten how to beat properly.

It’s stupid. He’s just a man… a very attractive man.

But suddenly I’m hyperaware of the dress hugging my waist, of the heat prickling under my skin.

I press my lips together and fix my eyes on the candle flickering in the center of our table, willing the flush in my cheeks to fade.

I don’t react like this. Ever.

And the fact that I am now is unnerving. Irritating.

Then again, I don’t usually come across ridiculously hot men.

“What business does Don De Marco have in Canada?” Mia asks, always curious .

“Your father told me the hacking team received an anonymous tip-off this morning that Signore De Marco’s girlfriend is heading there on a cruise ship. He wants to be there when it anchors.”

Mari’s head snaps up, her eyes filling with hope. She can’t wait for Ella’s return. It would mean a little more freedom… not for Ella, obviously, but for Mari. At least until she’s married off. And unfortunately, that day is coming way too fast.

“I still can’t believe our Don has a girlfriend,” Sienna says.

“Well, he doesn’t at the moment,” Mia deadpans.

“Here or not, she’s still his girlfriend,” Mamma says, always the diplomat.

“She was so brave to run away,” Ari says. “But how could she have just disappeared with everyone searching for her?”

“She’s smart,” Mari says simply. She would know, being the only one here who’s actually spent time with her.

“She’d have to be, to outmaneuver the Don’s hacker team and his men on the ground,” I chime in. “With facial recognition and cameras everywhere these days, disappearing is nearly impossible.”

Yet Luca managed to erase his trail completely. Pride swells inside me, even though his cleverness and talent have made it impossible to reach him.

Ella doesn’t have that kind of skill, at least as far as anyone knows. Luca taught me the basics when we were together. If she could disappear, maybe I could pull it off too.

“So let me get this straight,” Sienna quips. “Our own hacker team had no clue where she was, but some anonymous person does? Why would they help? It could be a trap.”

“Uberto verified it’s true.” My ears prick up at the mention of Luca’s former mentor, another reminder of what I lost. “Once they knew where to look, they found her and got visuals.”

Silence settles over us. I trace the rim of my glass, fighting the ache that tightens in my chest. Then Mari stands and tugs at my sleeve.

“Bathroom?”

“Yeah. ”

We slip away, our heels muted against the thick carpet. As we walk past the other diners, I make it my mission not to look in a certain direction. But I sense his eyes on me.

Or… it could be my imagination.

The hallway is quiet when we reach it, the lighting low and warm. The sound of clinking glasses fades behind us as we push through the restroom door.

“You know why Father offered me to the Don to help Ella settle in?” Mari asks as we head toward the back, past the vanities.

I shrug. “Well, given he’s doing all he can to position himself for consigliere, I’d say he wanted you to spy.”

“Exactly. He wanted me to befriend her and keep my eyes and ears open about what’s going on at the Don’s estate. Me, who’s as shy as a girl can be without actually vanishing into the walls.”

“Well, from what you said, you did become friends with her.”

“I did. But I would never rat her out. Especially not to Father, who sees her as nothing more than a commodity.”

Her and every other woman.

“Wait. Did you know where she was?”

“What? No, of course not. Looking back, though, she prepared for her escape. She took up running. I think it was to get fitter, to be ready when her chance came.”

“Hmm.” I slip into one of the private stalls.

Running? I could definitely be fitter.

I sit down on the closed lid and just breathe. Too many thoughts swirl in my head.

Escapes. Luca. And then those vivid blue eyes push their way back in.

That flustered feeling from earlier returns, uninvited.

It’s the first bit of attention from a man that’s stirred something inside me since Luca. Something I’ve come to believe was dead.

Ever since he left, there’s been silence. Cold. A locked door in my chest. And now, with a pair of unfamiliar eyes on me, there’s a knock.

I’m not sure what to do with that. Or if I’m happy about it .

Perhaps I could be a little excited. My heart isn’t as dead as I feared.

“I’ll meet you back at the table,” Mari calls.

“Okay. I won’t be long.”

I wash my hands slowly, smooth my dress, admiring how it fits like a second skin. The marble counter gleams under the soft lighting, the air faintly scented with expensive soap. I reapply my lipstick, tuck it into my purse, and push open the bathroom door… and walk straight into a wall.

No, not a wall.

A chest.

Hands reach out, steadying me. Firm. Warm.

I look up.

It’s him .

Up close, he’s even more handsome. Those sapphire eyes meet mine and don’t waver. He smells like cedar and expensive aftershave, and something else I can’t place.

“Hello,” he says.

His voice is deep and textured, like worn velvet. I catch the faintest hint of an American accent. It all fits him.

“Hello,” I stammer.

“I’m Sebastian.”

“You’re not Italian.” I wince the second the words leave my mouth.

What am I saying?

Does that make it sound like I’ve been thinking about him? Because I haven’t…

He chuckles, his smile deepening.

“You’ve got a good ear. My mother is American, and my father is Italian.”

“Ah. That would explain it.”

I cringe again. Why am I like this?

His hands haven’t left my arms. Now they slide slowly down until they reach my wrists and cover my hands. Gently. Intentionally.

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can feel it through my skin.

“I should get back,” I murmur, not used to such forwardness and hating how flustered it makes me. “My family will wonder where I am.”

“Of course,” he replies, smooth as silk.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go. His eyes stay locked on mine.

“Would you like to—”

His words are cut off when a blaring alarm shrieks through the corridor.

I jolt, stepping back, and his hands fall away.

My heart rate is through the roof.

Is it because of the alarm or the man in front of me?

I look around, trying to figure out what’s happening. There’s no smoke in the air. So why are the fire alarms screaming?

“Isa!” Mari’s voice echoes, followed by Mia’s as they burst into the corridor.

“I’m here!” I call, rushing toward them, throwing one last glance over my shoulder at the beautiful stranger.

“Happy birthday,” he seems to mouth.

That can’t be right. How would he know?

“Apparently there’s a fire in the kitchen,” Mia says, grabbing my arm. “We have to go!”

The corridor fills with shouting. Staff rush past, ushering people out.

The sprinklers kick in.

We’re soaked in seconds. My dress clings to my skin, my hair sticks to my face.

Mari grabs my other hand and the three of us run, water streaming off us as we head for the exit, where Mamma, Sienna, and Ari are already waiting.

I glance back one more time, and Sebastian stands unmoving in the chaos, his eyes locked on me as if nothing else exists.

And for a moment, I feel like the center of something I can’t explain.