Page 100 of A Bossy Proposal

“Just a minute—Papa!”

My heart drops as I think of my papa.

“It’s a girl on the phone asking for you,” she says as the handset rustles as it gets passed over.

“Yes,” a gruff, deep voice with an Italian lilt answers.

I cross my fingers as I open my mouth to speak. “You may remember me, Mr. Mancini. I called asking for your help three years ago.” I swallow as I stare at West. “I have the money to pay you now.”

Lorenzo is silent for a moment as he considers what I’m saying. I can’t mess up. This is more than just a call. This is my lifeline. It could be my only chance.

“What did I ask for?” he finally asks.

I turn and stare at West, scared this man is going to ask for more and West won’t help. West just nods for me to continue. “One million dollars.”

“And why did you call me?” Lorenzo’s voice comes through the line, thick with skepticism.

I grip the phone tighter. “Because my father gave me your number.”

“Your father?” He pauses, and I can almost hear his gears turning. “What’s the reason you need help?”

“My parents were killed,” I blurt out, each word hitting harder than the last. “My father left me your name and number to call if anything should ever happen to them.”

“I take it they’ll be a victim?”

“Yes.”

“I need a name.”

“Giovanni Vincenzo,” I reply, with no hesitation, when really, I shouldn’t be so eager with the information.

“Vinny.” He laughs dryly, but there’s no humor in it. “You don’t understand what you’re getting into. Your father didn’t give you my number. Who are you?”

“He did.” Anger surges as I interrupt him, “And I know exactly what I’m getting into!” My voice trembles as my parents’ memories flash through my mind. “I want my parents’ killer dead and you’re my only chance at justice.”

“Justice?” He scoffs bitterly. “You think killing Giovanni Vincenzo will give you that? You don’t know what kind of storm you’re inviting.”

My heart races as I consider his words. He’s right; I’m wading into dangerous waters with no life raft in sight.

“You think he’ll just sit back while you make a move? You’ve got no idea how far-reaching his contacts go.”

His warning sends chills down my spine as reality crashes over me like a tidal wave.

“I don’t care!” My resolve strengthens despite the rising fear clawing at my insides. “I want revenge for what he did to my family.”

“What kind of game is this?” he finally says, frustration lacing each word. “Who are you?”

“It’s not a game!” I protest. “He killed my parents because they took me from Italy. From his son, who I was supposed to marry.”

Silence hangs in the air for a beat too long. Then, a sharp intake of breath echoes through the receiver. “Fuck! What’s your name?”

My throat tightens, and fear churns in my stomach. “Amelia Ross.”

“Your real name,” he presses as urgency slices through his tone.

I swallow hard. “It’s Amelia Morelli.”

My name lingers like a curse while I brace myself for his reaction, but when it comes, it shakes me to my very core.

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