Page 37 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

“We should talk,” I started, taking a step closer. “About yesterday.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, calm and steady. But there was something guarded behind them. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s in the past.”

In the past? Was she serious? “Mirella, you can’t just—”

“I can,” she cut me off, her tone firm but not unkind. “It’s better this way.”

Better for who? Because it sure as hell isn’t better for me. I wanted to push, to tell her it wasn’t just a kiss, but before I could, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. My father was waiting, and if we were late, it wouldn’t matter what either of us felt about last night.

We walked to his office in silence. I wanted to tell her all I felt. But what difference would it make now? As we entered, Don Carlos was sitting behind his massive desk, sipping his coffee like a king surveying his court.

“You’re late,” he mumbled without looking up, though we weren’t. He liked to say things like that just to keep people on edge.

“Good morning to you, too, Father,” I greeted dryly, trying not to sound bitter, taking the seat across from him.

Mirella followed, sitting with her back straight and her hands folded in her lap like she was auditioning for sainthood. It was impressive, really, how composed she looked, considering the storm she’d walked into.

“I trust you both slept well,” my father said, his eyes glinting with something I didn’t like.

“Fine,” I answered quickly, hoping to move things along.

Mirella nodded, keeping her response short. “Yes, thank you.”

His gaze shifted to her, sharp and calculating. “That’s interesting. I could’ve sworn I saw you leaving the mansionabout an hour after you told me you were going home when you left my office yesterday.”

My stomach dropped. Mirella and I exchanged a quick glance, but neither of us let it linger. He couldn’t know. Could he?

“I...” Mirella began, her voice steady despite the trap he’d just laid. “I wasn’t feeling well after everything that happened. The stolen shipment, the danger—I was feeling overwhelmed. I went to cool my head in the guest room and must have dozed off. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

Her explanation was flawless, and she delivered it with a calmness that would’ve made any seasoned liar proud. My father stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before finally nodding.

“Ah, of course. Women can be weak when it comes to such things. Emotional. Fragile. It’s natural.”

My hands curled into fists under the table. I could feel the heat rising in my chest, and I was one second away from telling him exactly where he could shove his outdated opinions. But then, Mirella laughed, a light, easy sound that somehow diffused the tension.

“You’re absolutely right,” she said, her tone playful. “We women can be such delicate creatures. Thank goodness for strong men like you to guide us.”

It was a masterstroke. She turned his insult into a compliment, disarming him completely. I hated that it worked, but I couldn’t deny it was impressive.

My father chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “Yes, well, it’s good to see you understand your place.”

I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. Mirella gave me a quick glance, her eyes sayinglet it go. For now, I did.

“Enough pleasantries,” my father continued, leaning forward. “We’ve confirmed it was The Raven who intercepted the shipment. She’s been a thorn in my side for too long, and I want her dealt with. You two are to do whatever it takes to bring her down and recover what’s mine.”

The room went silent. Mirella’s posture didn’t change, but I could see the tension in her jaw. The Raven wasn’t just a rival—she was a ghost, impossible to pin down. This wasn’t going to be a simple task.

“We’ll handle it,” I responded, keeping my voice even.

“You’d better,” my father snarled, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t tolerate failure. You already failed once when you let her get away with the shipment. Twice would be inexcusable.”

As we left the office, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Mirella walked beside me, her face calm but her eyes distant.

“You were incredible in there,” I told her, meaning every word. “Quick thinking with the guest room story.”

“I’ve had practice,” she teased lightly, but there was a weight to her words that made me wonder just how much practice she’d had.

“About what he said...” I hesitated. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re not weak.”

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