Page 1 of The Proposal

Chapter 1

Dante

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Dante Mancini,” Stefano Rossi sings as I approach him where he’s sitting at the rear of his estate. His top lip slightly curls in disdain as he folds his hands behind his head and leans back further in his chair, trying to emulate his dominance. “I was wondering if and when you would get around to seeing me. The word on the street is you’ve been in Italy for weeks.”

Stefano is the Don of one of Italy’s most powerful crime families and my father’s closest ally when he was alive. However, I’ve never been fond of the man, so I’ve stayed away from him until now.

I find him cold and calculating. He sees everything as a means to an end, and nothing—not loyalty, friendship, or love—is sacred if it stands in the way of his power. Rumour has it he was the one responsible for the brutal slaying of his own wife.

His ruthlessness knows no bounds. He leaves a trail of broken lives and shattered trust in his wake, each move designed to tighten his grip on control. Honestly, I’ll never know what my father saw in this man.

I’m not surprised Stefano knew we were here. Thatfucker has eyes and ears everywhere. I’ve been avoiding this visit for as long as possible. He’s the last person I want to deal with going forward, but everyone else I’ve tried to align myself with since being here was too terrified of his retribution, so I eventually had no choice but to bite the bullet and face him.

“I’ve been busy attending my brother’s wedding,” I tell him as I stop before him and extend my hand. He takes it but makes no effort to stand to greet me.

His blatant disregard doesn’t go unnoticed. I may not be my father, and I know I have big shoes to fill, but I am now the Don of the Mancini family, and that alone demands respect.

I pin him with a look that has him clearing his throat and uncurling his fingers from mine. He may be savage, but he’d be a fool to underestimate me.

He gestures for me to take the seat opposite him, so I unbutton my suit jacket and sit.

It feels like we are measuring each other’s resolve, knowing that every word spoken and gesture made is a move from which only one of us can emerge unscathed.

“Yes, I heard about the wedding, and I must say I was slightly offended by my lack of an invitation.”

“It was a small ceremony, immediate family and one of my brother’s closest friends. Only nine people were in attendance, that’s including the bride and the groom.”

“Hmm,” he hums, clearly still unimpressed.

My brother has never met him, but even if he had, Stefano is the last person he’d consider inviting. Alexander hates this lifestyle.

“I also hear you’ve been shopping around while you’ve been in Italy. Word on the street is you’re looking for a new supplier. Is there something wrong with the drugs I import to your country?”

I should’ve known word would get back to him.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to work with me since I’m not my father,” I lie, simply because I don’t have a death wish.

While I may be smiling on the outside, which most people mistake for a friendly, jovial ease, inside, I’m hardened by a darkness that only I truly understand. It’s a quiet storm, constantly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.

This man may be intimidating and dangerous, but I’m also no pushover.

I feel like I’ve spent my whole life living under my brother’s shadow, always striving to earn my father’s approval, constantly proving my worth in a game that seemed rigged from the start. But a lifetime of pushing myself to the limit has forged something in me … character, resilience, and strength.

“Bullshit,” he retorts. “It sounds more like the other way around.”

“I just assumed, with all the drama surrounding our last few shipments, and my father’s execution …” I let my words trail off, knowing he’s well aware of the story behind the slaying.

The Mortellis have been my family’s rivals for as long as I can remember. Papa hated Vincent Mortelli, their leader, with a deep-seated passion.

They had been trying to encroach on our territory for years, and when we found out they were the ones behind the hijacking of our drugs, costing us tens of millions of dollars, my father gave the order to wipe him out.

The hit was a success, but weeks later, they retaliated, and that not only resulted in the death of my father, but some of his best men died right alongside him. I was also riddled with bullets, but by some grace of God, I survived.

I will get the last laugh, though … I haven’t entirely worked out how yet, but those fuckers will pay for what they did.

“I still got my money,” Stefano replies. “So, your unfortunate issue wasn’t a problem for me.” Of course, it wasn’t. Since those Mortelli scum got their hands on multipleshipments so easily, it sounds like they may have had someone on the inside. You may need to look into that.”

I nod because it has crossed my mind more than once. The idea of a traitor wasn’t just a possibility; it felt inevitable. In our world, loyalty always has a price.

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