Page 63 of Masked Mafia's Runaway Bride

“To save you!” he snapped, his voice cutting through mine. “Mirella. Again and again. And I’d do it all over if it meant keeping you safe.”

My chest ached, my mind racing as I tried to reconcile the man standing before me with the one I thought I knew.

I pointed at his arm again, my voice trembling. “That tattoo. Jacqueline. Your mother. You’ve always covered it up. Why didn’t you just tell me since?”

His gaze softened, but his jaw remained tense. “Because I knew this moment would come. And I knew you’d hate me for it.”

“Hate you?” I laughed bitterly, tears spilling over. “I don’t even know you, Sergio.”

“You know me,” he insisted, his voice fierce. “You know me better than anyone. And no matter how much you try to deny it, you know I’ve always been on your side.”

My mind raced back to that night, the stranger’s hands on me, his whispered words, and the way he made me feel alive when everything else was crumbling.

“I’ve always had feelings for you.” His voice was steady, but his expression was tight—like he was holding himself together by a thread.

The words hit me like a slap. I froze mid-step, turning to face him fully. “What?”

“Since we were kids,” he said, his tone softer now, almost hesitant. “I’ve always loved you. And when I heard…” He stopped, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t know how to continue.

“When you heard what?” My arms were crossed tightly over my chest, but my voice had lost some of its edge.

“When I heard my father was marrying you.”

That was it. My composure snapped like a twig. I let out a sharp laugh, though there was nothing funny about any of it. “So, you decided the best way to handle your lifelong feelings was to show up in a mask and seduce me?”

His jaw clenched, and he looked at me like he wanted to explain but didn’t know how. “It wasn’t about seduction,” he said finally. “I just… I wanted to remind you of what we had when we were younger. I wanted to make you feel something again—something real.”

“Something real?” I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief. “You mean like the real fact that you didn’t tell me who you were? That you let me think you were some stranger?”

“I didn’t know how you’d react if I came as myself.” He took another step forward, and this time, I didn’t move back. I just stared at him, my arms still crossed, my nails digging into my skin. “We hadn’t spoken in years, Mirella. After the way I left, I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to see me. The mask… it was easier.”

I let out another laugh, this one even harsher than the first. “Easier. Easier than just showing up as you. So instead, you thought, ‘Hey, I’ll just show up as a masked stranger and hope she runs away with me.’”

He winced, but he didn’t deny it.

“How naive do you think I am, Sergio? Did you honestly think I’d just pack a bag and leave my life for some guy in a mask?”

“No,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I had to try. I couldn’t just let you marry him.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “So that’s why you saved me at the wedding? To stop me from marrying your father?”

His gaze met mine, steady and unflinching. “Yes. That morning, I heard what he was planning to do to you—how he wanted to disgrace you and humiliate you in front of everyone. I couldn’t let that happen. I came as fast as I could, but by the time I got there…”

“Then you were shot.” My voice was barely a whisper now, the memory flashing through my mind like a bad dream.

He nodded. “Afterward, I escaped. Ryan helped me. I tried to find you, but you were gone.”

I shook my head, trying to process everything. “You should’ve just stayed gone.”

“Mirella…” His voice was soft, pleading. “I don’t like my father any more than you do. Everything he does is for power and control. I came back because I wanted to bring him down. He’s hurt too many people, and I couldn’t let him hurt you again.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. His words hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that he’d done it all for me, that his intentions had been pure. But the weight of his lies pressed down on me, making it impossible to breathe.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when I came back?” My voice cracked, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded.

“I tried,” he said, his voice strained. “But you were engaged to him again, and the situation was… complicated.”

“Complicated?” I laughed bitterly. “You think that justifies any of this? You think that makes it okay to keep lying to me, to keep pretending?”

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