Page 129 of The Proposal
“Are you going to miss me,Bellezza? Because I’m going to miss you. Just the thought of being without you for that long makes me borderline insane.”
She nuzzles her face into the crook of my neck. “I miss you already, and you haven’t even left yet.”
When I touch down in Italy, Roberto is waiting to greet me on the tarmac. The flight was tedious and long, and the memory of leaving my wife in tears at the other end made it even harder.
Over the past couple of months, I’ve been in regular contact with him, including lengthy phone conversations with some of Stefano’s top men that often stretched late into the night.
These calls helped me get a sense of how things were run before I took over. We discussed strategies, current operations, and what lies ahead. Like a well-oiled machine, they’ve kept everything running smoothly in my absence.
I’m here to assess the situation firsthand, take inventory, and start formulating a plan for the future.
These men relied on Stefano for their survival, so I have a duty of care to them, at the very least. I’m also doing this to secure Arabella and Lucia’s financial future. The Rossi legacy is rightfully theirs.
My wife will never want for anything because I’ll always take care of her, no matter what. Lucia, though, has nothing. This money will give her a chance to forge a future and rewrite her own destiny.
I’m not doing this for me; it’s solely for them. I already have my hands full with my ownFamiglia, but with their father gone, someone has to step in and look after their interests.
We head straight to one of Stefano’s restaurants, where the rest of the crew is waiting. It’s private and will allow us to talk in a secure environment.
I’m not expecting a hostile reception; quite the opposite. All the communication I’ve had thus far has been positive. From what I’ve been told, Stefano’s men are eager to begin working under the guidance of their new leader. Namely, me.
As I step into the dimly lit restaurant, the responsibilities of this new position press down on me like a heavy weight in my chest, but I hold my head high. The soft murmur of conversation fills the air as I cross the room. These men are here to see me, not the ruthless tyrant who used to control them with an iron fist.
The shift in the room is instant as I take my time to shake everyone’s hands and give them a moment to formally introduce themselves. This is my extendedFamiglianow, and the old leader’s shadow is already fading.
Once the introductions are out of the way, I don’t hesitate to take my rightful seat at the head of the table. The room falls quiet as all eyes meet mine, a mixture of respect and curiosity flickering in their gazes. These men will soon learn that I’m nopushover. But if they give me their loyalty, I’ll return it tenfold, and they’ll thrive under my rule.
The meeting stretched on for hours, but the air in the room changed during that time. It no longer feels heavy with uncertainty; it’s now charged with a sense of purpose. The leaders have been chosen, and a solid plan is in place. Each one of them knows their role, and theFamigliafeels united.
I glance around the table as I stand and reach for my glass, taking in the faces of the men who will carry this family forward in my absence. The room falls quiet, and all attention shifts to me.
“Gentlemen,” I begin, my voice steady, “tonight marks the start of something new. We’ve made our choices, set our course, and from here on out, we move forward together. Loyalty, respect, and strength. That is what I expect from each of you. We’ve been given a rare opportunity to rebuild, to thrive, and to make sure that no one forgets who we are.”
I pause, letting my words settle in.
“I promise you, under my leadership, we will rise, not just to reclaim what’s ours, but to claim what’s yet to come.” I raise my glass higher. “Here’s to us and to the future we’re building together.”
They follow suit. “Salute!” The clinking of glasses echoes through the room in a shared moment of unity. We’ve set the course, and there’s no turning back now.
As soon as business was out of the way, the celebrations began. An endless stream of food was brought out from thekitchen for our feast. We laughed, we drank, and we ate until we were all stuffed.
I’m on a high by the time we leave, but that feeling doesn’t last long. On the walk to the car—surrounded by my guards and a few of my men—we are ambushed by Giuseppe Salvatori—maybe aggressively approached is a better phrase.
Giuseppe’s evil, smug grin is the first thing I see as he steps into my path, his two lackeys flanking him. There’s no mistaking the message: this isn’t a friendly interaction.
His eyes briefly scan my entourage, sizing them up, but when they move back to me, the snarl he’s now sporting says it all. “Where’s my fucking wife?” he growls.
“Wife?” I answer, playing dumb. “Which one? Didn’t they all mysteriously disappear?”
“I’m talking about Lucia Rossi, not those other bitches.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe the two of you were ever married.”
“Where the fuck is she, Mancini?”
I casually lift one shoulder, not even flinching, despite him giving me a look that could be best described as murderous. The tension between us is palpable, but I’m completely unfazed by this psychopath.
“Are you sure she didn’t perish in the fire like her old man?” I ask, my voice completely monotonous.
