Page 1 of Mine Again
Prologue
Luca
The itch starts the second I’m back on my island.
It’s always there, lurking under the surface, but I’ve never gone this long without checking in on her.
But I had no choice. The job was too risky to get distracted, or worse, for anyone to catch me watching her and put her on their radar.
So I buried myself in code, building firewalls, a ghost in the machine. I told myself it was for her. For us. For our future.
But that logic doesn’t quiet the hunger clawing at me.
I’m used to seeing her every single day. Her smile, her frown, the way her hair falls over her shoulders when she leans over her laptop, framing her face just right.
Keeping myself from watchingherhas scraped at the edges of my control, and now, my anticipation builds with every step.
Still, I pause before I push the door open, scanning the perimeter. I sense vulnerabilities like muscle memory, my body registering them before my mind does.
I move through the doorframe, fingers flying over the security panel. Retinal scan. Voice ID. Passcodes that shift with the hour. By the time the door seals shut behind me, the house ismine again. No weak points, no gaps. I control every inch of this space.
And then… I let myself breathe.
Except tonight, my chest aches, my breath caught somewhere I can’t reach.
I need to see her.
Ignoring how tired I am, I head straight to my office, dropping into my oversized leather chair. I press a key, and while my system hums to life, I close my eyes for a few precious seconds.
Two days without sleep. Barely a handful of hours each night in the last four weeks. That job in Brazil took longer than it should have. The terrain, the network, the chaos I couldn’t predict.
I still finished ahead of schedule, but late by my standards. Unacceptable.
There are reasons I hate traveling, and I was reminded of every single one of them.
I let out a sigh, forcing my eyelids open.
Ten screens flicker on in a synchronized sequence, illuminating the room in an artificial glow. I reach for the bar cart beside me, pour a generous glass of Scotch, and lift the crystal tumbler to my lips. The burn is a welcome distraction.
Most of my work doesn’t require me to leave this chair. That’s the way I like it. Everything I need, everything I control, is here, within reach.
But the last client was different. That job needed boots on the ground. If I’d turned it down, the Jackal would’ve taken over, and that wasn’t an option.
So I sucked it up and spent four weeks in a place where even the best encryption was only as strong as the shaky satellite connection backing it.
Four weeks away from her.
Too fucking long.
I swivel my chair back toward the screens, fingers already moving across the keyboard. The feed comes up in seconds.
My gaze shifts to the rightmost screen, where the camera in herbedroom is always on. I like watching her come and go throughout the day. It makes me feel connected to her, almost as if we were back to how things used to be.
But right now, her room is dark.
What the hell?
It’s ten at night in Italy. She’s always in her room at this time. And not because she’s asleep.
