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“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.”