Page 31 of Mine Again
But steadier.
Like the first quiet moment after a storm, when the dust hasn’t settled yet. But you have.
Chapter Ten
Isabella
Mariella’s engagement party is as surreal as it is heartbreaking.
I stand with Mia near the edge of the ballroom, observing from a safe distance. The estate is filled with the who’s who of our world, every corner buzzing with mafia elite dressed to kill… sometimes literally.
Near the entrance, Mamma greets the arriving guests, regal and composed. Sienna and Ariana stay close to her, as instructed. They’re considered too young to roam freely and have been told to never stray far from her side.
“This is so painful to watch,” Mia mutters, stepping closer and half-hiding her face behind my shoulder. Mariella is meeting her future husband for the first time, and we can’t look away. It’s like a train wreck.
Mari is so far out of her comfort zone it makes my chest ache. Her posture is stiff, shoulders drawn tight, hands knotted in front of her. A thin, forced smile flickers across her lips while her eyes keep darting to the floor like it might offer an escape. I wish it did.
“If Mari could melt into the ground, she would,” Mia says, sympathy plain in her eyes.
“Who could blame her? No one in their right mind would want to marry Renaldo Conti,” I whisper back.
“I swear an arranged marriage is the only way that man could ever get a wife. Why did it have to be Mariella, though?” Mia sounds as hopeless as Mari looks.
I have no answer to that. I wish I could help her, save her from all of this. But I can’t.
My stomach turns as I glance back at Mari. Her face is flushed, even under the thick makeup, and her gaze is pinned to the ground.
“The prick doesn’t even glance at her,” Mia says, her disdain obvious.
“Yeah, and judging by the way he eyed that blonde server when he first arrived, I don’t think Mari is his type,” I murmur, nodding toward the woman balancing a tray of drinks with an exaggerated sway.
Mia scowls. “What a disgrace. He can’t even show her or our family a shred of respect.”
“He’s being subtle enough. Not that anyone expected better from him,” I say, the churning in my stomach not easing.
“And Father,” Mia adds bitterly, staring at him, “stands there like this is the proudest day of his life. It makes me want to punch him.”
“Don’t we all?” I whisper.
Father exchanges a few last words with Conti Senior before gesturing toward the library. Renaldo nods and the three of them disappear in that direction.
Mariella’s eyes immediately scan the crowd. The second she spots us, she walks over, fast but still trying to keep up appearances.
“You survived,” I say, forcing a lightness into my tone that isn’t there.
“Barely,” she mutters, exhaling sharply. “This has been the worst few minutes of my life. I’ve never felt so out of place. So invisible. So… disposable.”
I want to hug her, but I can’t. Not with everyone’s eyes on us. Mari isn’t allowed to look upset. She’s expected to be glowing with gratitude over her ‘fortuitous’ match. So I settle for squeezing her hand.
Suddenly, there’s a stir near the entrance. Everyone turns toward the front of the room.
Mateo De Marco, the underboss and brother of our Don, has arrived.
He strides in with Romeo Ferraro, his right-hand man, and another figure I haven’t seen in years follows close behind. Power and prestige fit them like a second skin, subtle but impossible to ignore. For a heartbeat, conversation stills. All eyes are drawn to them.
Mia and I immediately glance at Mari.
Her face goes crimson, but this time it’s not from embarrassment. It’s from something far deeper.
