Page 87 of A Bossy Proposal

“You must know someone!” I ask Dante again. He’s not only my best friend Dom’s brother, but he is also Italian, though his family left that life behind. Still, I’m convinced he has contacts,

“It’s not your world, West. Keep away,” Dante warns me.

I disconnect. My knuckles are still white from gripping it so tightly.

My voice has grown hoarse from making call after call, pulling in every favor I can think of.

I need to find someone to take out Vincenzo and his men, but each time, I’m met with the same response: fear. No one wants to touch the don’s people, too scared of the consequences.

“Fuck!” I roar, flinging the handset of my desk phone across the room. It shatters against the wall, pieces scatter across the polished floor of my office.

Jackson stands silently by the door, his face impassive. But there is some tension in his shoulders. And the way his hand hovers near his holster, I know he is nervous.

“Sir,” he says quietly. “Perhaps we should return to the penthouse. Miss Amelia—”

“You’re right,” I cut him off, running a hand through my hair. “Let’s go.”

“The car is waiting in the private parking garage.” He swallows as he stares at me. “I had it scanned for devices.” Then adds after a moment of hesitation, “just in case.”

And I realize how deep I’m in.

Chapter 24

West

Staring out of the car windows on the ride back to the penthouse. The streets pass in a blur as my mind races as I try to come up with a plan, any plan. I need to find an assassin who’s not afraid of the don.

I’ll sell my soul right now.

Anything to keep Amelia safe.

I pull out my phone and dial Dom’s number, my fingers trembling with barely contained rage.

“West?” Dom’s voice comes through clear. “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help.” I know I shouldn’t be asking Dom behind his brother’s back, but I’m desperate. “Have you heard of a man called Giovanni Vincenzo?”

“I’ve heard of plenty.”

“A don?”

The line goes silent for a moment. “Vincenzo? The don? What the fuck does he want?”

“Amelia. She’s—He’s in New York.”

“Jesus Christ.” Dom exhales heavily. “You’re in deep shit, my friend.”

“I need contacts, Dom. Someone who can handle this. Your family must know people who—”

“Stop right there,” Dom cuts me off. “Nobody touches Vincenzo. Nobody. You’re going to lose her, West. He’s mafia and just like we lost Annika to the bratva, there are some things we can’t control.”

My grip tightens on the phone until my knuckles turn white. “No fucking way! She’s mine.”

“Listen to yourself!” Dom’s voice rises. “This isn’t some corporate takeover. This is the Italian mafia. You can’t—”

“I don’t care who he is,” I snarl. “I’m not letting her go. Not now, never.”

“Then you’re a fool,” Dom says quietly. “And you’re going to get yourself killed.”

---