Page 10 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

“Yes, Father,” I answered, giving her a look of my own. The same words I’d used to placate him for years. But this time, I meant them differently. Mirella was not just any girl, and he had no clue who she was. “She’s unforgettable.”

A glimpse of surprise crossed her face, but she masked it quickly, looking back at him with that same calm expression she’d had when she walked in.

My father’s laugh grated against me, a sound that once held power but now only felt hollow. I could see it—the way she bristled at him. That old spark of rebellion she used to have in her eyes was back and fiercer than before. He was testing her, gauging how far he could push, but she wasn’t the girl who’d let him. I knew that much, and I could only guess what she was planning.

For so long, I’d tried to keep myself guarded. I tried to avoid feeling the way I once had about her. But seeing her facing my father with that steady strength reminded me of why I’d loved her and why I still did, no matter how hard I’d tried to forget.

He kept talking and making mocking comments about her absence and her “running off like a naive girl.” It was a statement aimed at humiliating her and reminding her of who he thought she was.

She didn’t flinch, but her voice was soft when she spoke, and I could tell there was a hidden edge beneath her words. “Perhaps I was naive then. Perhaps I believed that love was enough.” She glanced briefly at me, a glance so quick I almost missed it. “But life teaches you things. It taught me that some people are best left in the past.”

I wanted to ask her, right then, about the years between us, about the one night when I wore a mask and saw her again. But the time wasn’t right.

“Your boldness amuses me, Mirella,” my father interrupted, laughing as though she were here merely to entertain him. He took a step closer to her, studying her with that dark, calculating gaze. “Still, with all that boldness, you accepted my condition. Not so bold, I guess?”

She lifted her chin, trying to hide the unease in her gaze. But I saw it there, a glimpse of what might have been fear.

“What condition?”

And I braced myself, knowing what he’d say next, knowing it would change everything.

“Son, I forgot to mention, Mirella has agreed to marry me,” he declared, his words cold and decisive.

I watched the shock ripple through me. And yet, as much as it hurt to think of her being tied to him, part of me knew there was more. After everything she sacrificed, this couldn’t be it. Her eyes met mine, and I wish I could read her thoughts and let her in on mine.

I wish I could tell her all about that night.

*****

The night Mirella slipped away was still etched in my mind, sharp and alive. The memory of her, wrapped in silk sheets, her laughter, hushed but sincere, had kept me up for months. Andthat look in her eyes—the way she held onto some secret, some sense of duty, even when I begged her to leave with me—cut deeper than any bullet I had taken for her.

“Come with me,” I had told her, my voice barely a whisper. My heart pounded against my ribs, the words falling out fast as if I could somehow bind her to me before reality set in. “We can just leave and go somewhere no one will find us.”

Her eyes softened with a glimmer of pain that almost made me believe she’d say yes, but instead, her lips curved into that sad, stubborn smile I’d always known.

“I can’t,” she said finally. “I owe my family this. I have to stay.”

That was Mirella—loyal to a fault. I knew the sense of duty she carried was a burden, yet it was also what made her—her. It was what held her back then, and somehow, it brought her back tonight, a few years older and wiser and even more stunning than I remembered.

When she entered the gala, it was as if the entire room stopped to look at her. I was no different, but my eyes saw things no one else would catch.

But what Mirella didn’t know was that I hadn’t forgotten a single thing. Every late-night scroll through the internet, every time I searched for some clue to her life now, every memory—the braces, the acne, her transformation into a breathtaking woman—all of it, vivid and present in my mind. I hadn’t forgotten the memory of that night and how she kissed me. Or how I made love to her in the dark, caressing every inch and curve of her body, mastering and taking mental pictures of her features.

That night changed my life. I came home because I was informed of my dad’s engagement, only to discover she was being forced to marry my father—a man I despised with every bone in my body.

Don Carlos was showing her off proudly. His arm was around her like some prize he’d won, and bile rose in my throat. But Mirella’s gaze drifted my way, and for a moment, the room faded, and it was just us, just like old times.

Today, I was back in that cycle. He was doing the same thing. As soon as my father turned his attention elsewhere, I slipped in beside her, and I could see the spark of recognition in her gaze, something deeper than just a childhood memory.

“Mind if I whisk you away for a moment,” I asked, and she nodded curtly. She was silent. She barely said a word till we were out of sight.

We slipped outside, away from the stifling heat of the crowd, into the cool night air. Mirella let out a soft sigh, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked up at me with those eyes that had haunted my dreams for years.

“You look different,” she murmured, studying me with a curiosity I couldn’t quite place.

I leaned against the balcony railing, a smirk forming. “Different good or different bad?”

“Different… in a good way,” she admitted, glancing down, her fingers fidgeting slightly. “Though I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen those eyes somewhere else recently.”

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