Page 22 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

My heart jumped as I saw the ID and picture that confirmed my darkest thought. Sergio. How had he even gotten my number? Then I remembered—when I came back to New York, I’d listed it on my dad’s address records, trying to blend in and appear normal—a normal daughter of a powerful man, not someone with secrets buried deeper than most people could imagine.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a call. Why was he calling? I didn’t want to talk to him. That was a lie, I wanted to. I wanted to hear what his voice sounded like from the echoes of a telephone. Would it still have the same effect on me the way it did when he was an inch away from me?

I picked up, keeping my voice steady. “What do you want, Sergio?” I didn’t mean to come off as apprehensive, but I was already frustrated by the way thoughts of him were clouding all my rational ones.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his tone light but edged with something deeper. “Figured you might be awake too.”

I leaned back against the pillows, trying to keep my voice casual. “And why’s that?”

“Because you never could stay calm the night before something big,” he responded, a smile in his words. “You’d always be up, pacing or planning some elaborate scheme.”

“That was a long time ago,” I said, though I couldn’t help the small grin tugging at my lips. “I’m not the same person I was back then.”

“Neither am I,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But some things don’t change. Like how you always take on more than you should.”

I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” he said, a note of concern slipping through. “But this isn’t just another day in the park. You don’t have to go tomorrow, Mirella. Let me handle it.”

His words caught me off guard. There was a care in his voice I hadn’t expected, and it disarmed me in a way I wasn’t ready for. “You’re worried about me?”

“You’re not invincible,” he said plainly. “I know you like to act like you are, but… just be careful. It is not worth proving anything to my dad.”

A beat of silence passed between us. I didn’t know what to say, and Sergio, surprisingly, didn’t push. Instead, his tone shifted, lighter, teasing. “Do you remember that time you tried to climb that tree in your backyard?”

I laughed, the memory rushing back. “You mean the time Isuccessfullyclimbed it? I don’t remember you helping much.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t let me. You were too busy yelling that you didn’t need anyone’s help,” he shot back. “And then you got stuck.”

I groaned, the embarrassment still fresh. “I did not get stuck. I just paused to appreciate the view.”

“Sure,” he said, clearly grinning. “And who was it that had to climb up and help you down when you started crying?”

“I did not cry,” I protested, though I couldn’t stop smiling. “And you didn’t exactly help. You made fun of me the whole way down.”

“I was ten,” he said, laughing. “Cut me some slack.”

We fell into an easy rhythm, trading stories from the past. He reminded me of the time I dared him to steal cookies from my dad’s kitchen, and I brought up the time he tripped into a fountain trying to impress some girl at a party. It felt natural, like slipping into an old pair of shoes. For a moment, the tension between us didn’t exist.

But then the laughter faded, and his voice softened again. “I’ve always wanted to protect you, you know.”

The words hit something deep inside me, and I didn’t know how to respond. Protect me? From what? From himself? From the world we were both tangled in?

I forced a smile into my voice, trying to keep things light. “I don’t need protecting, Sergio. Not then, not now.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and for once, I didn’t know how to break it. My walls felt thinner than they’d been in years, and Sergio was standing too close. I was dangerously close to letting him in, and I couldn’t afford that. Not now.

“Sergio,” I began, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I chose to run. I pressed down on the red button, ending the call and letting out an exasperated gasp.

These feelings were reckless, and when bullets started flying, these feelings were going to get me killed.

CHAPTER TEN

SERGIO

Don Carlos stood in the middle of the room like he was holding court. I dared not call him father. He was no father of mine. All I do is try to endure and stop myself from aiming higher next time I have a gun in my hands and he is in front of me. His hands rested on the back of his chair, and his voice was cold enough to freeze fire. “You know what’s at stake, Sergio. If you fail, you’ll bring shame on this family, and shame is something I don’t forgive.”

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