Page 17 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

Their voices overlapped, and my pulse quickened. This wasn’t just a fight. It was a challenge. Sergio wasn’t backing down, and I leaned closer, holding my breath.

“And what kind of legacy is it if you’re just butchering people who stand in your way?” Sergio shot back, his tone dripping with contempt. “If this is how you’re running things, maybe it’s time to question who you’re doing it for.”

“Watch your mouth!” Don Carlos’s voice came out in a snarl, and I flinched, even from my hidden spot. “These are the prices we pay for power, for respect, for control. What’s weak, Sergio, is being too soft to pay them. And right now, that’s exactly what you’re showing me—weakness.”

I’d known Don Carlos long enough to recognize the scorn in his tone and the same twisted pride he had in breaking anyone who dared challenge him. I’d never have guessed that Sergio, of all people, would be on the receiving end. I thought he was just like his father.

Then again, I didn’t know much about Sergio at all these days, did I?

“You think I’m weak for calling out your mistakes? For refusing to turn a blind eye when you cross a line?” Sergio’s voice was cold, defiant. “I’m not spineless. I am just not blinded by greed.”

A heavy silence fell, and I waited, breath held, for Don Carlos’s reply.

“You think you’re noble, that you’re better than me because you have principles?” Don Carlos’s voice was low and calculating. “Well, principles are for people who don’t know what they want. When you figure it out, come talk to me. Until then, keep your little ideas about morality to yourself.”

I felt a thrill of something close to admiration as I listened to Sergio stand his ground, even as Don Carlos tried to pull him down. Maybe he wasn’t so much his father’s puppet after all.

Straightening, I decided now was the time to make my entrance. No use pretending I hadn’t heard most of the exchange, though my expression stayed carefully neutral. I knocked, then pushed open the door and stepped inside, meeting Don Carlos’s gaze first. His eyes flickered with an unreadable glint—displeasure, suspicion, or maybe even amusement. But it was Sergio’s steely glare that held me captive. Those dark brown eyes were simmering with defiance.

Don Carlos motioned for me to come in further, his hand settling heavily on his desk as if daring me to step closer. “Mirella,” he began, his tone dangerously smooth, “it’s good you’re here. I was just telling my son that there’s only so much trust I can extend, especially to those who’ve betrayed it before.”

A hint of heat crept up my neck, but I kept my face calm. “Don Carlos, if there’s any way I can prove myself, I’m here to do it. What happened last time was an error in judgment.”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. “An error. Yes, and what an expensive one it was. You’ll understand if I can’t take your word at face value anymore, Mirella.” He glanced at Sergio, who looked away, jaw clenched, clearly wrestling with whatever storm his father had provoked in him.

I played the part of the naive girl—wide-eyed, almost hurt. “I know you have every reason to doubt me, Don Carlos. But I’m here to make things right. I had no idea... I didn’t mean—”

He held up a hand, stopping me mid-sentence, his expression turning sharp. “Enough with the excuses. Words are worthless, Mirella. It’s actions I’m interested in now.”

My stomach twisted, but I forced a hopeful smile. “Then tell me what I can do. I’ll prove it.”

Don Carlos’s gaze turned calculating as he considered me. “Proving it... that’s exactly what you’ll have to do. I’m putting you on tasks, things I’ll expect you to handle as if your life depended on them. Which it very well might.”

I nodded, bracing myself. “I understand.”

“Good. And as it happens, Sergio here is the best teacher you could hope for.” He gestured toward his son, a cruel glint in his eye. “He’ll be keeping an eye on you, making sure you don’t... slip.”

Sergio’s mouth twisted into a wry smirk, and the pleasure in his gaze was unmistakable. It was as if he were assessing me, already deciding how much trouble I’d cause him. Wonderful.

Of all people, why did it have to be him?

I swallowed, struggling to keep my tone respectful. “I’ll learn quickly, I promise.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Don Carlos replied smoothly, leaning back with an air of satisfaction. “For your first task, you’ll accompany Sergio. Let him show you what true dedication looks like.”

Sergio turned, eyes locked on me, and the gazeon his face twisted into something almost amused.

Of course, he’d enjoy this.

He gave his father a curt nod. Then, he looked back at me with one eyebrow raised as if challenging me to protest. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

As we walked toward the door, he cast me a sideways glance. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, princess.”

I forced a smile, determined not to let him get under my skin. If he thought he could make this uncomfortable, he was sorelymistaken. But inside, my mind raced with questions, all of them directed at the man walking beside me.

Sergio.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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