27. Amelia
Chapter 27
Amelia
“ T hat’s Lorenzo,” West says, pushing a photo in front of me. “Do you recognize him?”
“He looks a little familiar,” I say, trepidation rolling in my stomach. “What else do you know about him?”
West shakes his head. “Not much. I got that photo from Dante Russo, Dom’s brother. He’s the owner of Club Elysium, and he knows a lot of the Italians who live in Boston because the family is from there.”
“And.”
“He’s what you told me. He’s an assassin.” West sighs. “Or was. Dante thinks he’s hung up his gun.”
“No.” I shake my head, reaching for the phone on West’s home office desk. “He has to help me.” I slam my pointer finger over the numbers, dialing Lorenzo’s number.
“Be prepared for disappointment, Princess.”
My heart pounds. It’s the first time in ages that he’s called me that name.
I swallow, as the line rings, as electric tension thrums to life throughout me.
“Hello.” A woman answers. She sounds young, maybe my age.
“Hello, can I speak to Lorenzo Mancini please?”
“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.
“Morelli?” His voice drops to a low growl. “What’s your father’s name?”
“He went by Liam Ross,” I stammer. “But his real name was Luca Morelli.”
Lorenzo goes quiet again, and I can almost feel his annoyance radiating from miles away.
I bite my lip, wishing I could take my name back, and that of my father, fearing the admission will change everything.
“Luca… You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie to you? I’m telling you the truth!”
He blows out a breath. “Maybe you are who you say you are. “ He laughs. “Maybe you’re a Morelli through and through. Only one of ours would be brave enough to take out Vincenzo.”
Ours?
“I am a Morelli.”
“Text me your picture. No hesitation. Send it now.”
I take a selfie and send it to him.
“Oh fuck!” He takes a deep breath in. “Your father didn’t give you my number because he wanted my help to kill Vincenzo. He gave you it because your father and my wife, may her soul rest in peace, are brother and sister.”
“I’m your niece?” I clarify as West narrows his eyes.
“Yes, and Marco will want to see you.”
“Marco?” I murmur.
“Fuck! How long have you been hiding?” Lorenzo grunts.
“Since my parents were killed three years ago. And family or not, Mr. Mancini, I want revenge for my parents’ deaths,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart. “I called you for revenge.”
He exhales sharply. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for. I’m no longer an assassin.”
The words slice through me like a knife, leaving a void where hope had just blossomed.
“What do you mean?” I gasp in disbelief.
“Years ago, I made a choice to leave that life behind.” He sounds regretful, almost defeated. “It’s dangerous; it’s bloody, and I’m too old.”
My pulse races as frustration ignites within me. “But you know how this world works! You can’t just turn your back on it! Giovanni has to pay!”
“My wife paid, and—” Then he mutters something in Italian under his breath. Words I don’t quite catch, but sense the weight behind them.
“I’m sorry, but that means you know what it’s like to lose someone to these people.”
“Yes, I do.” He sighs again. “I may not be an assassin anymore, but my son Gabe and my nephew Luca. They’re two of the best in the business.”
“Luca?”
I can almost sense him smile as he says, “Marco named his second son after his younger brother. The brother who refused to follow us to America.”
West covers my hand with his palm as tears coat my eyes. “I thought I had no family.”
He laughs. “You have plenty of family here in Boston.”
Hope flickers to life again, but I still want my life as my own. “I still want Giovanni dead.”
Lorenzo chuckles, but it lacks any warmth. “Then what? You think you can waltz into their world and take matters into your own hands? You’d be dead the moment he gets wind of you being involved.”
“Better than living like this,” I snap back. “I won’t live in fear for the rest of my life. If you can’t—”
“Thank you,” he interrupts. “When you’re ready to act on this vengeance of yours, we’ll arrange a meeting.”
I process his words while trying to quell the storm raging inside me. “I’m ready.”
“I thought you might say that. I’ll get Gabe or Luca to organize a meeting with you.”
My mind whirls, wondering if Gabe and Luca will like me. The rest of his family, too.
“Do I pay them or you?” I ask.
“Gabe charges up to three million for a hit, sometimes more, depending on the target.”
I glance at West, who nods, letting me know he’ll pay it. I suspect he’ll pay anything.
Lorenzo continues, “And Luca is a loose cannon. He’d do it for a straight one million because he likes to kill people.”
I swallow as I think about that.
My cousins are fucking assassins.
“But you are family, Amelia. We always do what’s right for our family. If you want him dead and you’ve found no reason to walk away—”
“I haven’t,” I interrupt.
“Then there’s no charge.” He laughs. “Because truthfully, after what you’ve told me, I believe you. And once Marco finds out that Giovanni Vincenzo killed his brother, one of ours, he’s dead, anyway.”
“Oh, my God, thank you. I thought you were going to turn me away.”
“No, I had to make sure you knew what you were dealing with.” He clears his throat. “And I’m sorry for not finding out more from you three years ago.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“I’ll be in touch.” He disconnects the call, and I stare at West, wondering what he thinks of me now.
I don’t have to ask him because he takes my hand and says, “You’re stronger and braver than I ever imagined.”