Page 40 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

By the time we finished dessert, I’d offered her a job as my assistant. “You’re crazy,” she said, laughing, but she took the job anyway.

Now, years later, I was still here, and so were they. My phone buzzed, pulling me back to the present. I glanced at the screen—Enzo. I had sent him a message earlier.

“Let me guess,” he said the second I answered. “You want something.”

“I need you to book out the restaurant for tonight,” I said, already anticipating his objections.

“Why? What are you up to?”

“I’m going. Not as Mirella. As Raven.”

There was a pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Are you out of your mind? That’s a terrible idea.”

“I know what I’m doing, Enzo.”

“No, you don’t,” he snapped. “You’re walking into a trap, and for what? Nostalgia?”

“It’s not just nostalgia,” I responded, my voice firm. “That place... it’s important to me. And if I’m going to face whatever’s coming, I need to do it as Raven. Not hiding. Not pretending to be a ghost.”

“Mirella,” his tone softened, but the worry was still there. “This isn’t just about you anymore. Think about what’s at stake.”

“I am,” I said, though a part of me knew he was right. “But I need this. Trust me.”

There was a long silence before he sighed. “Fine. But if this goes south, don’t expect me to bail you out.”

I smiled despite myself. “You always bail me out.”

“Yeah, well, one of these days, you’re going to owe me more than I can collect.”

We hung up, and I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. This wasn’t just about the restaurant or the memories tied to it. It was about reclaiming a part of myself I’d buried too deep.

The knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. For a moment, I considered pretending I wasn’t there, but Sergio wasn’t the type to just leave. Another knock, firmer this time, followed by his voice.

“It’s time, Mirella.”

I sighed, dragging myself to the door. When I opened it, Sergio’s face shifted, softening as if he were reading my hesitation before I could speak.

“I’m not going,” I muttered, arms crossed to hide how uneasy I felt. “I’d rather stay here. Alone.”

His eyebrows pulled together, confusion and maybe a hint of hurt crossing his face. “Is this about the kiss?” His voice lowered just enough to make my chest tighten. “Because if it is, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not—”

He cut me off. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I just...” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I find it difficult to stay away from you. But if you want me to, I will.”

I wasn’t expecting that. Part of me wanted to laugh at how serious he looked, but the other part—the part that wasn’t quite ready to face him—felt a pang of guilt.

“It’s not about the kiss, Sergio,” I said, softening my tone. “I just... I need some space. That’s all.”

“Space,” he repeated, almost like he didn’t believe me. “From me or from all of this?”

I hesitated. “From everything.”

He studied me for a moment, his jaw tight like he wanted to argue but was holding back. “Fine,” he finally said, stepping back. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give you space. But just know I’m not going far.”

I watched him walk away, his shoulders tense. The door clicked shut, and I leaned against it, exhaling slowly. I wasn’t sure if I was more relieved or disappointed. Maybe both.

But there was no time to dwell on it. If I wasn’t going with Sergio, I was still going. Alone.

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