14. Amelia
Chapter 14
Amelia
I watch West retreat as he leaves for work.
Something is off.
He was too eager to leave.
A chill settles over me despite the warmth of the apartment.
The large package of clothes arrived before he left. West asked me to stay at home and try everything on.
It turns out I also have a meeting at nine with the designer who will make my engagement party dress.
After my shower, I pull a pair of cream wide-legged pants and a silk navy top off the rail. While I dress, I contemplate what news received West before rushing out of the door?
The designer arrives at nine on the dot, and soon lots of fabric swatches are checked against my skin color.
She flutters around me, chattering about necklines and the best cut for my body. But I can't stop fretting over the call West took.
My priority should be my engagement outfit right now. Instead, my mind is only on West’s abrupt change in demeanor after he took the call.
And today is the first day he went to work without me.
“Arms out, please,” the designer instructs, pulling me away from my thoughts.
I comply mechanically, my stomach churning.
What could that phone call have been about? West’s face had hardened, his jaw clenched as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
But it was when his eyes caught mine briefly, before he stormed away to his office.
“You’re so tense, dear,” the designer comments, her brow furrowing. “Nerves about the big day?”
I force a smile. “Something like that.”
As she continues taking measurements, my phone buzzes on the coffee table.
I snatch it up, hoping it’s West, but it’s an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Amelia?” A familiar voice sends ice through my veins. “It’s Felix.”
I should hang up—I don’t. “What do you want?”
The designer sets her curious eyes on me and asks, “Is everything okay?”
I nod as Felix tells me, “We need to talk. I’m sorry and I promise I’ll never treat you badly again. I’ll never cheat on you. Please come home.”
I laugh. “Has Jodie dumped you?”
“She was nothing. She gave me what I needed when you never.”
Anger furls inside as I listen to him and then remember what West did to me last night. And his words— he’s an idiot. “What about you never giving me what I needed?”
“I gave you a home. I gave you a sanctuary. You were virtually homeless when I met you.” His voice gets lower and harsher with each word.
“Then I am happy for you to offer the same to someone else.”
“Who the fuck is he? The man who answered your phone?” he yells. “Tell me. Is it West Davenport? If it is—”
The designer taps her watch. I stick one finger in the air. “I have to go, Felix. I’m banning unknown numbers from now on.”
“Ames—”
I disconnect as two pieces of fabric are thrust into my hand. “This is silk, which will be lovely if you want something light, but it will crease. I suggest this.”
We continue going over fabrics and designs until we finally meet eye to eye.
I arrive at the office just after eleven.
The elevator ride feels endless, each level ticking by slower than the last.
My stomach is in knots because I’ll have to tell West that Felix may cause us some trouble.
When the doors finally open, I take a deep breath and step out, my heels clicking against the polished floor.
As I round the corner to my desk, I freeze.
West is in his office, as normal, but he is not alone. Two men in black suits stand before him. West towers over them, his presence commanding even from across the room.
I’ve seen West upset before, but this...this is different. The muscle twitches in his jaw because it’s clenched so tight. His eyes are cold, hard as steel as he gestures sharply. And although his words are inaudible through the glass, I know they are biting.
One of the men tries to interrupt, but West silences him with a look. I watch, transfixed, as he leans forward, palms flat on his desk. The men shrink back, their bravado evaporating under West’s icy glare.
Suddenly, his eyes flick to mine. For a split second, our gazes lock. My breath catches in my throat.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches out and presses a button on his desk. The glass walls of his office instantly frost over, cutting off my view.
I sink into my chair, my mind reeling.
What was that about? And why do I feel like I’ve just witnessed something I shouldn’t have?
Did he plan for me to stay at home because he never wanted me to see what was about to unfold?
I feel it now more than ever. I can’t shake the feeling that whatever is happening in that office is about to change everything.
And everything was fine until I opened up about my life.
I stare at the opaque glass, willing it to clear, to give me some clue about what is going on. But it remains frosted, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts and growing unease.
“Ames—”
I spin to see Layla, the executive assistant to Westley’s brother, Easton.
“Are you okay?” she asks, pulling out a chair and taking a seat opposite me. “I heard about you and Mr. Davenport. You lucky thing. How did you pull that off?”
“I promised not to talk about it at work,” I tell her, hoping the lie will pacify her.
“Be careful. Sian is spreading rumors that he frequents sex clubs, and he met you there.”
“What the hell?”
“I know, right? What a bitch.” Her eyes wander to the frosted glass and back to me. The frosted glass feels like a barrier of uncertainty. “How did you meet?”
“I’ve been his executive assistant for over a year. We fell into it, I suppose.”
“Mm. I was his PA for two years.” Layla leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Be careful because West will do anything to get what he wants.”
I shrug, avoiding her gaze.
“We’re happy.”
“Until he gets what he wants. You’ll have a big public wedding, sign a prenup that gives you nothing. NeuroPort Dynamics shares will recover and West...”
“Did you come here to upset me?” I interrupt her.
“No, I came to help you.” She raises an eyebrow, along with her voice, but still probes deeper. “He’s ten years older than you. He probably thinks you’re too stupid and young to realize he is using you.”
I clench my jaw. My mind races back to Felix’s betrayal and the deal West offered.
She shrugs. “The flip-side is you’re with billionaire West Davenport now.” Layla smirks. “I’d have sex with him for nothing.”
“Me too.” I lift an eyebrow.
She chuckles. “But honestly, Ames, be careful. I don’t like how much chatter there is around the office about you two.”
“Chatter?” I echo, unease creeping in.
“Yeah,” she says, her tone shifting to serious. “Is it true what people say about you meeting at Club Elysium?”
“It’s a lie,” I whisper. “Sian is lying to you.”
“But why, Ames?” she leans back, crossing her arms defensively. “You have to be careful. The Davenports have enemies—real ones.”
The gravity of her words weighs on me as I sit back in my chair. Is this lie worth it when I have enough enemies of my own?
The door swings open and my breath catches in my throat as West strides out of his office. His eyes scan the room before landing on me.
“Amelia,” he says sharply, pulling my attention away from Layla’s anxious face.
I straighten up, as unease swirls inside me like a storm ready to break loose.
“Yes,” I manage.
“Can you come into my office, please? And Layla, get back to work.”
“Yes, Mr. Davenport.” Layla rushes off, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she heads down the hallway.
I know she is racing to share whatever gossip she thinks she has on me.
West stands in the doorway, a storm brewing in his gaze.
“Amelia,” he calls, his voice low but firm. “We need to talk.”
I nod and follow him inside. With my heart pounding, he gestures for me to take a seat.
He takes one on the other side of the desk as the two men stand behind him, their expressions unreadable.
“Amelia,” he begins, leaning against his desk, “these men are private investigators.”
The men nod at me, serious and unwavering. One of them slides a photo across the desk toward me. The image catches the light, revealing a familiar face.
My stomach drops.
“Who is this?” one of them asks, his voice steady.
I chew on my lip before I say, “That’s...that’s my uncle. The man I told you about.” My voice trembles as I speak, but confusion swirls in my mind. “Why have got his photograph?”
West’s eyes narrow. “What are you not telling me, Amelia?”
I glance at the photo again as my memories flood back. The tense family gathering, the whispered arguments echoing in my head.
“I can’t tell you.”
“He can’t hurt you,” West adds.
“That’s a lie.” I hold my hand over my heart as grief creeps into my chest like an unwelcome friend. “My parents died, and he took everything...” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “When my parents died, he claimed they left nothing behind.”
“Except you,” one investigator mutters before clearing his throat after feeling West’s glare.
“I know who you are.” West’s intensity burns through me like a hot flame. “What I don’t know is why you’re hiding.” West pushes off his desk and steps closer, concern etched on his face. “And I promise I won’t let him hurt you.”
I sigh, lifting my face to stare at the ceiling and to stop the tears that are building in my eyes from falling. I shake my head. “Do you know his name? Do you know who he is?” I murmur as I lower my face to look at West.
West turns to one of the men behind him.
“His name is Johnny Vincent.”
I laugh. “That’s the name he uses in America. His name is Giovanni Vincenzo, and he is the head of one of the five families of the Italian mafia. His base is in Italy.”
The moment I say Giovanni’s name and mention the five families, West’s expression shifts. His discomfort is palpable, thickening the air around us.
The tension wraps around my chest, squeezing like an iron bar as reality dawns on me. This isn’t just about my past; it’s about us.
I glance at the two men, their stoic faces betraying nothing, and the urge to regain control is real. “Can you step outside for a minute?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
They exchange glances but nod, stepping out of the office without a word.
As soon as the door closes behind them, I lock eyes with West.
He sits there, arms crossed over his chest, and right now, I know he is already distancing himself from me.
“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” I start, but the words fall flat. “Or at all.”
“What do you mean?” he demands.
I take a deep breath, feeling every heartbeat thudding in my ears. “Giovanni Vincenzo isn’t really my uncle.”
West blinks at me, confusion washing over his features.
“My real name is Amelia Morelli,” I confess. “I was betrothed to his son.”
Silence fills the space between us, but I keep going before he can interrupt me.
“It was after my parents died that I found out they had agreed for me to have an arranged marriage with his son.” My fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt as memories flood back. “But they changed their minds.”
West runs a hand through his hair, frustration flaring in his eyes. “And they fled the mafia and came to the US.”
“Yes!” My other life is closing in as I slowly reveal who I am. “And they died for me.”
He leans closer, elbows on the table. “You should have told me.”
“There is nothing to tell. We’re fake, West,” I say, trembling under the weight of truth spilling from my lips. “But you need to understand—this was never about hiding from you or lying to you. It’s best that nobody knows anything about me. It’s safer for me this way.”
His expression softens slightly, but still holds uncertainty.
“But I can help you.” He searches my face as if looking for something more. “Why did you never confide in me?”
I sigh. “I’m just your executive assistant, West. If you knew who I really was…” My voice trails off as dread creeps in. I shake my head, fighting back tears and frustration building up inside me again. “It’s just not safe for anyone else.”
“So, you’re some mafia princess?” he asks, a ripple running down his throat.
“I was. My mother and father were your modern-day Romeo and Juliet, except they got their happily ever after.” A breath hitches in my throat. “They did—“ I blink back tears. “But their union made me pretty special, and Vincenzo wants his grandchildren to have my blood.”
“Fuck!” West scrubs his hand over his face.
I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “West, I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I understand if you want nothing to do with me now.”
His eyes lock onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. I can see the gears turning in his head, processing everything I’ve just revealed.
“If you help me get a new identity,” I continue, my voice shaking as I think about what I’m saying, “I’ll be out of your hair. Your life. You won’t have to worry about me or any of this mess ever again.”
West remains silent, his jaw clenched tight.
“I have a plan,” I press on, desperate to fill the silence. “I just need a little help, and I can disappear. Start fresh somewhere new, where Giovanni can’t find me. Where I won’t be a burden to anyone, including you.”
My words hang in the air between us. West’s expression is unreadable, his eyes distant as if he’s looking through me rather than at me.
Then he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The silence stretches on, making each second feel like an eternity.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and controlled. “You’re right. It is a lot to ask.”
“I know,” I add softly and my heart breaks all over again, “but you have connections. You could help me vanish without a trace. It’s the best solution for everyone involved.”
I nod, bracing myself for rejection. But instead of dismissing me outright, he leans forward, his elbows on the desk as his eyes bore into mine.
“Tell me more about this plan of yours.”