Page 91 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Ninety

Isabella

T he next morning, when Gerard arrives to escort me to breakfast, he doesn’t take the usual path. Instead, we wind through a different hallway. Immediate unease settles low in my stomach.

What now? What has Hale concocted?

Has he realized his mind games aren’t breaking me, and now he’s planning a different escalation? Is he going to toss me into some dungeon and gloat over the torment it would cause both Luca and me? Or worse, is he trying to seduce me with that sickening charm of his?

With him, anything is possible. That’s the problem. You have to be prepared for every eventuality, and I’m not sure I am. But I’ll be damned if I let him see that, or how scared I really am.

The hallway we follow is lined with glass display cases, each one showing off relics of violence. Suits of chain mail and rust-flecked helmets, morning stars with spiked heads, battle-axes with blades broad enough to split a man in two, and long spears tipped with iron.

Gleaming polished swords lie side by side with the dark handles of antique rifles, their barrels worn but lovingly preserved. Nothing modern, nothing practical for today, just trophies of bygone eras .

Our footsteps echo against the glass, the sound unnervingly loud in the hush.

Interesting, isn’t it? The man so devoted to digital warfare collects weapons from centuries gone. It fits his eccentric nature, yet to me, it only reveals his insecurities.

It seems to me he needs the weight of history behind him to prove his own power, maybe to convince himself he belongs among the legends of the past.

Pathetic.

We pass more glass cases, my attention catching on Hale’s collection of bows. I slow on instinct, wishing I could stop and take it all in.

There’s a towering English longbow, simple and elegant in its deadly reach. Beside it, a recurve with carved tips that bend back toward the string, powerful and efficient. A composite bow of layered horn and sinew pressed into dark wood, the kind ancient hunters once carried.

There’s even a short horseman’s bow, compact and curved, built for speed and close combat. Quivers hang behind the glass, filled with arrows fletched with different-colored feathers.

My fingers twitch at my sides, wishing I could trace the curves and strings. But Gerard doesn’t linger, urging me on with his presence alone.

He stops at a door and swings it open, revealing a small sitting room bathed in golden morning light. Sun pours through tall windows, warming the pale walls.

It’s inviting, almost cozy, the kind of space that should ease nerves. But mine don’t ease at all. Comfort here seems like camouflage, and I don’t trust it.

Gerard gestures me forward, and I step inside, braced for whatever trap this might be.

Hale is there, of course.

Sitting at an ornate antique desk, he’s surrounded by three glowing screens, his hands moving quickly across his laptop keys. His face is taut with concentration, his jaw locked, a shadow pinching the corners of his mouth.

Something is happening.

It has to be Luca.

He’s found a way in.

My heart kicks, a wild surge that rattles my ribs, and heat flashes across my skin.

Luca is out there, challenging Hale’s carefully constructed delusion.

I glance to the side and spot Hale’s half-eaten breakfast abandoned on a small table near the window, a glass of that vile brown concoction sitting untouched beside his plate.

The thought of Luca rattling him so much he couldn’t finish his meal, couldn’t even drink his so-called elixir of life, makes my lips curve before I can stop them. Anything that unsettles him is a victory in my book.

I don’t bother with a greeting. He doesn’t deserve one. Not after yesterday.

Instead, I cross to the buffet table that’s as overflowing as always. My appetite is thin, but I take a plate anyway, stacking it with fruit and pancakes. I need to keep up my strength. Who knows, I might have to run, especially if Luca is close.

Maybe it’s only my imagination, but there’s a charge in the air, a prickle along my skin. It feels like him, like the ghost of his touch brushing over my arm or the salt air of our island drifting into this prison. For one dizzy second, it’s almost real.

Hale still hasn’t acknowledged me. That in itself is unusual. He thrives on his performance, on playing his part. Ignoring me isn’t in his script.

Suits me, though. I’ve listened to this man way too much already.

I eat slowly, letting my gaze drift around the unfamiliar room until it lands on a painting over the mantel. My jaw drops, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth.

No way.

And I thought the deer velvet was bad .

A larger-than-life portrait of Hale stares back at me… shirtless, oiled like a gladiator, ridges and valleys everywhere. As if he actually has abs like that.

I drag a hand down my face, laughing under my breath. Seriously? Is this supposed to be sexy?

The question is on the tip of my tongue, but when my gaze finds him, his eyes are narrowed on one of the screens, like it might strike him.

His posture is coiled, every line of his body radiating strain. A coldness clings to him, seeping into the air.

I like it… a lot.

Because that tension means only one thing.

Luca is getting to him.

He still hasn’t said a word ten minutes later, which, for him, is a warning sign.

The screen flashes once.

Hale stiffens. His fingers twitch on the mouse. Click. Click. Then nothing.

Silence.

I shift in my seat, curiosity eating at me. I need to know what’s happening.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, trying to project as much innocence as possible, and not the gloating excitement curling through me.

He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tightens. He swallows hard, like whatever he just saw punched the breath out of him.

And then he turns to face me.

His smile is slow. Controlled. Too even.

“Your husband,” he says quietly, “has just poked the bear.”

Hearing the confirmation of what I suspected makes my heart stutter with joy.

“What do you mean?”

Hale moves toward me with a fluid calm, a predator certain of the outcome before the chase even begins.

“He left a fingerprint in the dark. Not loud. Not sloppy. Just enough for me to know it was him.”

He stops in front of me and crouches, bringing us to eye level.

“He’s watching. Which means he believes he’s close.”

I keep my face neutral. It’s a skill I learned from my father. Never show emotions, not when men like him are watching. But my fingers curl tight around the hem of my napkin.

“He’s smarter than I gave him credit for,” Hale muses, almost to himself. “But he’s also predictable. He can’t help himself where you’re concerned.”

He stands and strolls back to his desk, hands in his pockets, eyes never leaving me.

“And the more time I spend with you, the more I feel the same way.”

I choke back a gag. Gross.

He clicks to another screen, pulling up a camera feed from earlier today. Me, lying in bed. Me, brushing my hair. Me, pacing the room while I waited for Gerard.

“I wonder if he realizes… that I’m watching, too.”

My stomach drops, but I don’t let on. I knew this prick had cameras on me, but suspecting it and seeing it are two different things. My skin crawls as though the walls themselves are watching. The urge to smash the screen pulses hot, but I keep my face blank.

“I’ve let him get this far,” Hale says lightly.

Did he really, or is he trying to cover up?

“I wanted to see what he’d do when he thought he had a shot.”

His tone is almost admiring. Almost.

“But we both know this won’t end with him getting what he wants.”

Like hell it won’t.

He glances back at me, his eyes like cut glass. They take on a mixture of malice and lust I’ve never seen before. A cold dread floods me from the inside out.

My throat tightens. It’s hard to breathe past the sudden pressure in my chest .

Hale’s setting a trap for Luca—

The screens go black.

At first, I think nothing of it. Screens do that when they’re idle. They go to sleep.

But Hale seems alarmed. His head snaps toward them, and, in an instant, his fingers tap the keyboard, trying to bring the screens back to life.

Nothing.

He keeps at it, a look of horrid surprise on his face.

BOOM.

The sound of a blast rips through the air, a deep shudder rolling under my feet. Windows rattle in their frames, the chandelier above giving a sharp jolt.

Then silence, except for the ringing in my ears. The shock roots me in place, caught between disbelief and a wild, desperate hope.

My heart slams in my chest.

Luca is here.