Page 9 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

“Resort or not, that’s the price,” he replied smoothly, his expression darkening. “Do you really think you’re in a position to negotiate?”

“I suppose not,” I murmured, biting my lip in feigned reluctance. “I just… I just thought maybe there was some other way.”

He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “The only way you’re getting anything is by tying yourself to me. Permanently.”

I sighed, allowing myself to appear weary and defeated. “Fine. But don’t think for a second this will be easy for me.”

Carlos’s smirk widened, satisfied. “Now, that’s the Mirella I remember. Always knew you’d come crawling back. A bold move, coming here and showing your face. But desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.”

“Desperate measures, indeed,” I echoed, keeping my tone low and bitter. “But if it means reclaiming what my father left behind, I’ll play the part. Just don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

His laugh grated against my nerves. He stepped closer, his voice suddenly a whisper. “Welcome to the family. Again.”

As he turned, Don Carlos motioned to a figure across the room. “You remember my son, don’t you?” His voice dripped with amusement. “Sergio.”

My heart skipped a beat.Sergio?I hadn’t thought of him in years, not since we were kids, running through gardens, daring each other to climb trees and sneak into forbidden rooms. I could still remember the way his laughter sounded, bright and mischievous. And that warm, steady gaze that always seemed to understand more than I ever said.

But that was years ago. What would he be like now?

Then, he appeared, stepping into view, and I felt the room tilt. He was striking. He towered over most people, easily six foot two, with a muscular build that suggested he hadn’t spent his life just lounging in luxury. His hair was dark, cropped short, and his face bore the shadows of light stubble. But it was his eyes that caught me. They were dark brown, intense, and sharp like he was sizing me up, piecing me together before I could say a word.

Carlos’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Mirella, meet my son, Sergio. I’m sure you remember him from those little childhood days.”

The memory came rushing back—the crush I’d harbored, the endless summers of childhood games. And now, here he was, no longer the boy I remembered, but a man.

Our eyes met, and there was a spark of something between us. Recognition. Those eyes—I have seen those eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR

SERGIO

The moment she walked in, everything stopped. It was as if the entire room faded to a whisper. Every guest and every sound was drowned out by the sight of her. Mirella. She’d grown into every bit of the beauty I used to glimpse beneath her shyness and those thick, dark lashes. In that instant, I felt seventeen again, sneaking glances at the girl with braces and acne who somehow always managed to glow despite it all. Now, that glow had turned into something magnetic and drew every eye in the room, especially mine.

I couldn’t take my gaze off her. She looked like she owned the place, with that delicate lift of her chin and her shoulders squared in that soft, smooth gown. It was a dress made for movement, but she wore it like armor, and she was impossible to miss. She’d spent so long believing she was invisible, hidden beneath her father’s shadow, beneath those insecurities she used to carry so heavily. But that was never true, not to me. She was always a hidden gem. Tonight, though, she wasn’t hiding from anyone. I wasn’t even sure she could if she tried.

A hidden gem. That’s what she’d always been, though she’d never believed it. Mirella had thought herself invisible, someone who could fade into the crowd. But the truth? She never could. She’d always been the brightest thing in the room, and now, it was more than ever.

When my father introduced us, I watched her hesitate before she extended her hand, her eyes searching mine. Did she know? Did she remember?

I adjusted my sleeves, partly to buy myself a second and partly to ground myself. The military had taught me a lot of things, but it hadn’t prepared me for the dizzying pull of meeting her like this—Mirella, right in front of me after all these years. I reached for her hand, and when our fingers touched, I felt an ache, sharp and undeniable. “Nice to meet you once again, Mirella.”

I’d rehearsed those words a hundred times since I came back from deployment. I had practiced how I might act if I ever saw her again. Yet nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. The feel of her hand in mine was warm and so familiar, especially without the mask.

The last time we had seen each other, I had a mask on. I was the one hiding.

She didn’t know, of course. She had no idea I was the man behind the mask—the one from the night she ran, the one who tried to save her. She couldn’t know. It was a secret I was prepared to take to my grave.

My father’s voice broke the moment, pulling me back to the present.Don Carlos’ son.A title I’d grown to hate, one I couldn’t strip off no matter how far I ran. “A son’s duty to his father,” he’d say. And I’d wanted to be a good son once. I wanted to be what he wanted, even if it meant losing parts of myself. But he’d broken that faith a long time ago. It started with my mother and with the cold detachment he used to keep me in line after she was gone. He claimed it was to make me a man. He said it was alesson and a path to control. But I saw the truth—he only wanted control over me.

I left because of that. The military was my escape and a way to prove to myself that I didn’t need him and I could build something of my own. I thought it would make me strong enough to stand up to him. But when I came back, he’d pulled me right back into his orbit, claiming I’d been gone long enough. All the while, I knew he’d never stop. He was too used to power and ruling every move I made.

So, here I was, back in his world, and now Mirella was back too. But this was different. She wasn’t here for him. That much was obvious. She was here for herself. And I saw that resolve in her eyes, something fierce and fiery.

My father laughed as though the sight of us together was some personal victory for him. He looked at her with the same cold, evaluating glint he’d used on me so many times. “Ah, Mirella, my son may be bold, but I see you haven’t lost your edge either. How very interesting.”

I stiffened, resisting the urge to interrupt him. Every word he spoke felt like a trap.

I caught her glancing my way—maybe to see if I would defend her. But I didn’t want to give my father the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under my skin. He turned to me, gesturing at Mirella with a smug, knowing smirk. “You remember our dear Mirella, don’t you? Though she’s come a long way since those little childhood days.” His words carried a condescending undertone as if she were still the girl from years ago, the one he thought he could control.

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