Page 55 of The Proposal

Chapter 13

Dante

Last night, my wife finally gave me her virtue. A prize I’ve been hoping to get for a while now. Not only is my dick finally back in the game, but I think deep down Arabella likes me. That knowledge should make me feel like I’m on top of the world, but unfortunately, I’m feeling the opposite.

Two things have been eating at me since yesterday. The first is my father’s will. I found a copy in one of his drawers when I was looking for the damn photo of Arabella that Edoardo claims exists. I had no idea that most of Papa’s fortune was left to my brother.

Alexander had me believe it was fifty-fifty. Well, maybe he didn’t exactly come out and say that was the case, but he failed to divulge the truth.

Finding out that I was pushed aside yet again was a huge blow. My brother gave me half … actually, he gave me more than half. I got this house, the two million Alexander found in Papa’s safe, on top of fifty percent of all the family’s assets.

I’m not exactly surprised that Alexander didn’t tell me; he has spent his entire life protecting and looking out for me, reminiscent of how Arabella cares for Lucia.

I’ve had this hollow ache since discovering what I always believed deep down … I was never enough for him. The weight of my father’s betrayal continues to sink in. I spent my life helping my father build this empire, always doing his bidding and sacrificing everything for a bloodline that had never truly valued me in return. I almost fucking died for this family.

My second concern is something innocent Lucia told me yesterday after I picked her up from the airport.

“Papa left his phone on the dining room table the other day while meeting with his men. I thought I’d give you a sneaky call so I could speak with Arabella, but when I pressed on the last international number in his recent call list—which I presumed was yours—some other man answered the phone.”

“What kind of accent did he have?”I asked out of curiosity because Stefano should not be dealing with anyone else in this country but me.

“He had the same accent as you but an Italian name. I think it was Edgardo or Edoardo.”

“Edoardo?”

“Do you know him?”

I never answered her question, but those words had a chill running down my spine.

Why the fuck would Edoardo’s number be on Stefano’s recent call list? It could be a coincidence—he’s not the only Edoardo in existence—but my gut tells me there is more to this. What? I have no clue, but I intend to find out.

The twisted darkness inside me wants to tie that motherfucker to a chair and slowly break him until he gives up the information I need, but I have to be sure before I charge in all guns blazing. One wrong move and it could blow up in my face. I’ve always been a little gung-ho and reckless, but I have myFamigliaand a wife to consider now.

I need to know who’s with me and who’s playing bothsides. If Stefano is in on it as well, that changes everything—he’s too smart to be underestimated, so I can’t let my emotions cloud my judgement.

It’s a dangerous game, but one I plan to win. That monster inside me rarely comes out to play, but rest assured, when he’s unleashed, hell will rain down on anyone who has double-crossed me.

“Are we going somewhere?” Romeo asks as he slides into the passenger seat of my fire-engine-red Ferrari, raising an eyebrow as he glances in my direction. If I’m being honest, he looks a little terrified.

It’s unusual for me to drive alone, especially without my security in tow, but Romeo is the only person I can completely trust right now. I can’t do this alone—not with so much on the line.

I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I rev the engine, the sound slicing through the air as I shift into gear and take off down the street. “I want to talk—just the two of us—you’re my underboss, and I’d appreciate your input on this.”

“So this isn’t a hit?”

“No, you dumb fuck. You’re my underboss … my best friend. Why would you think I’d want to whack you?”

“I’m your best friend?” he asks.

My eyes leave the road briefly, and when I see the goofy smile curving his lips, I say, “If you keep looking at me like that, I might change my mind.”

He schools his face immediately. “It’s just weird to see you on your own. And for the record, you’re my best friend too.”

I squirm a little in my seat and groan. This is why I keep my cards close to my chest. I don’t like all this fluffy bullshit. “You’re acting like a chick, so stop … please. It’s making me feel uncomfortable. I have my reasons for being here alone; like I said, I wanted your input on something.”

“On what?” he asks.

I glance at him again as I shift up another gear. “What are your thoughts on Edoardo?”

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