Page 58 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

The house was quiet, almost eerily so. As I followed her down the hall, my thoughts raced. What was the best approach? Should I be direct or ease into it? Part of me wanted to lay it all out, but another part hesitated. What if I scared her off? What if confronting her too harshly made her shut down?

The study was cozy, with warm lighting and bookshelves lining the walls. Mirella gestured for me to take a seat, but I stayed standing, my hands in my pockets to keep them from fidgeting.She leaned against the desk, arms crossed, waiting for me to speak.

“I’ve been thinking,” I started, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “About you. About everything.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. “Sergio, what’s this about?”

I stepped closer, my eyes locked on hers. “You’ve always been good at keeping secrets, haven’t you?”

She stiffened, just barely, but I caught it. The tiniest shift in her posture. “What do you mean?”

I smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Mirella. Or should I call you The Raven?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MIRELLA

Sergio’s actions have been strange lately. It’s not the kind of strange where you notice little habits like forgetting his keys or being quiet at dinner. No, this was a different kind of strange. He was calculated and careful, almost like he was holding something back. It didn’t sit right with me.

Every time I looked at him, something gnawed at me. His movements, his presence, even the way he kissed me—it all felt familiar. Too familiar. It wasn’t just déjà vu. It was like watching a shadow flicker on the wall and realizing it was your own.

I couldn’t shake it, especially when I remembered his words during that mission.

“I didn’t come this far to lose you.”

The cadence, the tone—it mirrored the stranger’s. The stranger who had saved me, the one who haunted me in quiet moments when my guard was down.

The thought was absurd, but it wouldn’t leave me alone.

When I met up with Enzo at my office downtown after leaving Sergio, he wasn’t pleased. “I’m close to finding your father,” he said, pacing the room like a caged wolf. “You want me to stop for this? To spy on Sergio?”

“Yes, but not stop. It’s just a side job,” I replied without hesitation.

“Mirella,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what you’re asking? Dividing attention now could cost us.”

I stood my ground. “I’ve worked with you long enough to know you can handle more than one thing at a time. I need answers, Enzo.”

His eyes narrowed. “What is it about Sergio that has you so jumpy?”

I hesitated, debating how much to share. Finally, I said, “During the mission, the way he moved, how he shot—it was familiar. Too familiar. And his words, Enzo... they reminded me of the stranger I told you about.”

Enzo froze. His silence unnerved me.

“You think it’s him?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice quiet. “That’s what scares me.”

With a heavy sigh, Enzo nodded. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if this delays the bigger picture.”

When I returned home later that day, Dahlia was waiting for me in the living room. Her face held that look of concern she always wore when something was bothering her, but she didn’t know how to say it.

“Is Alex okay?” I asked, instinctively checking over her shoulder.

She nodded. “He’s fine. But Sergio was here earlier.”

My heart skipped. “What? Why?”

“He wanted to see Alex. They played together for a bit.”

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