SERGIO
Mirella
“Gosh, she is so beautiful,”
The car hummed quietly as we drove, the city lights reflecting in Mirella’s expressionless face beside me. She looked out the window, jaw set like she had no intention of talking. I leaned back, fingers drumming the steering wheel, sneaking a glance every now and then. She had this effortless beauty about her, like she’d just walked out of one of those old-school Italian films. Even though her hair was tied back, a few strands fell around her face, catching the light in a way that made them almost glow. There was something different about her since we’d last met. A kind of quiet strength and an elegance that didn’t rely on any charm or words. She was…intriguing.
Clearing my throat, I tried to bridge the silence. “So, you excited for your first ‘mission’?” My tone was light, a little playful. She didn’t even look my way.
“Thrilled beyond words.”
Okay, so this was going to be more difficult than I thought. I glanced over again, catching her rolling her eyes slightly, which, somehow, was even more captivating.
I smirked. “Listen, Mirella, if we’re going to be working together, maybe we could—oh, I don’t know—try to stand each other’s guts?”
She finally turned, one brow raised in disbelief. “Work together? You’re here to babysit me, Sergio. There’s no working together in that.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Think of it as a mentorship program. Like, you know, one of those internships.”
She scoffed, her lips twitching into the smallest smile—like she couldn’t help herself. “Right, and you’re what, the star employee?”
I shrugged, leaning into my seat. “I like to think so. Don’t let the scowl fool you. I am a delight. You will be thrilled.”
She went quiet, and I let a beat pass before asking, “So…you plan to give me the cold shoulder the entire time?”
She looked at me with that sharp, knowing gaze of hers. “I can’t say I’m thrilled to work with someone who grew up entitled, spoiled, and without a clue about the real world.”
“Oh, really?” I shot back, feigning offense. “Spare me the rags-to-riches speech. You grew up just as well-off as I did, remember?”
Mirella’s eyes darkened, a small spark of anger flickering. “Yes, and five years ago, I lost it all. Stripped away, every last thing. I had to start over and survive on my own. No family support. No connections. No safety net.” She shifted her gaze forward, her tone cool. “So maybe don’t compare us.”
Her words struck something in me, the raw honesty of it. I leaned back, genuinely curious. “And you managed it? You survived it all?”
She gave me a small, humorless smile. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
Silence fell between us. This version of Mirella was far more complex than the spoiled, helpless, rich girl I remembered. I’d underestimated her strength, and I had to admit, I respected her more for it. I tried not to let that show, but it was hard when she wore her strength like armor, this unbreakable resolve that was strangely alluring.
By the time we reached the warehouse, the tension had settled and was replaced with something closer to an uneasy truce. The warehouse had old and weathered brick walls and a faint glow of light spilling out from the high windows. Inside, it was a cavernous space filled with crates, shelves, and scattered equipment. The distant hum of machines and muffled voices echoed around us.
“This place,” I started, motioning around, “is one of the quieter operations. We handle shipments and distribution and manage a few things here and there—nightclubs and casinos. Legal stuff.”
Mirella raised an eyebrow. “And the illegal parts? Or are those kept ‘quiet’ too?”
I chuckled, impressed. “I’ll save that part for the advanced class. Today’s lesson is strictly above board.”
She gave me a look that suggested she didn’t buy my “legal” explanation for a second, and honestly, I wasn’t trying too hardto convince her. As we moved through the warehouse, I found myself observing her more closely. She had this way of moving, of knowing exactly where to step without hesitating, like she was at home even in a place like this. For someone out of the game, she hadn’t lost her edge.
“You know your way around here pretty well, don’t you?” I asked, watching her take in every detail.
“Let’s just say I learned a thing or two from my dad,” she replied, keeping her expression neutral but her eyes alive with challenge.
I leaned against a crate, crossing my arms, letting my gaze linger. “So, what exactly do you hope to get out of this little ‘job?’”
She gave me a long, assessing look. “I’m here to show your father that I’m trustworthy. That I can hold my own.”
I laughed a little too loud, earning a pointed glare from her. “Trustworthy? In this family? Good luck with that.”
She shrugged, undeterred. “Maybe I just like the challenge. Besides, it’s not like I have much of a choice.”