Page 115 of Mine Again
“No. I refused to kill for years, even with my father pressing me to become a made man. I’m not starting now, not for a bastard like him. Tempting as it was.”
Her throat works to swallow. I can’t tell if she’s horrified, relieved, or both.
“So what did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything. But I did have him delivered to the Russians.”
She frowns, confused.
“Turns out he owed them a lot of money. He was on their shit list for years. Marrying him would have put you in danger.”
She stiffens. Her features freeze for a beat, and then something shifts. Her expression falters, like a crack spreading through glass. She blinks rapidly, one hand drifting to the wall behind her as if she needs something solid.
“What are you talking about?”
“Sebastian Moretti wasn’t the man you thought he was. Yourmeeting him was no coincidence.”
She exhales hard, as if the air has turned heavy in her lungs. Her back sags against the wall, arms wrapping around her stomach. Her brows knit together as she stares at the floor.
I can see it… how she’s replaying everything in her mind, one frame at a time. Every message. Every touch. Every lie.
The fury she threw at me minutes ago is fading. It’s still there, but something colder takes its place now. Confusion. Hurt. And betrayal.
She’s still reeling, her mind racing. It’s in the way her shoulders sink, the way her eyes stay fixed on a point that’s no longer there.
But I can’t give her time. Not for this.
Because I need to know.
“Did he touch you?”
The thought of that man’s hands on her, any man’s for that matter, makes my blood boil. It makes me regret not doing worse. I should have cut off his fingers, one at a time, for daring to touch what’s mine.
Her eyebrows lift, and her mouth tightens.
“I was engaged to him, of course he touched me. You said it yourself, you saw us kissing.” Her tone is taunting, wanting to provoke me.
She wants me to snap. But I won’t give her the upper hand.
“I was gone for a month. He wasn’t in the picture when I left.”
Which makes me wonder… was the Brazil job a setup? Did the Jackal lure me away to clear the path?
I’ll dig into that later. Right now, Isa’s meeting my gaze with fire.
“You’re not the kind of girl who jumps into bed with a stranger.” My voice hardens. “So how the hell did you get engaged so fast? And if you’re about to tell me you fell in love with him, I call bullshit.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her teeth press into her bottom lip, eyes calculating. Thinking about what? How much to admit? How to lie?
Then her expression shifts, her stare sharpening.
She doesn’t answer my question.
“You and I had sex,” she fires back instead, almost as if she justrealized it.
“We did.”
And damn, it was good.
