Wahida Clark - Sincerely, the Boss

SINCERELY, THE BOSS!

A Novel By

Wahida Clark & Amy Morford

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Wahida Clark Presents Publishing, LLC

60 Evergreen Place

Suite 904

East Orange, New Jersey 07018

973-678-9982

www.wclarkpublishing.com

Copyright 2012 by Amy Morford & Wahida Clark

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

ISBN 13-digit 978-1-944992-20-0

ISBN 10-digit 9781944992200

eBook ISBN 978-1-936649-11-2

Audio ISBN: 978-1-936649-08-02

Library of Congress Catalog Number

1. Urban, Romance, Suspense, Mafia, Italian, New York City, Crime, Street Lit Fiction

Cover design and layout by Nuance Art, LLC

Book interior design by www.aCreativeNuance.com

Contributing Editors: Linda Wilson and R. Hamilton

Printed in United States

SINCERELY, THE BOSS!

Table of Contents

Wahidas

A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S

All Praises is Due to the Creator. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to work with the Team of New York Times Best-Selling Partners. But this one goes to Amy Morford who was the first author to finish the race against herself. She remained focused, exhibiting great discipline and kept to all of the deadlines given her. She was a pleasure to collaborate with.

Big-Big-Big, Special shout-out to the WCP Street and Home Team.

Wahida Clark

The Official Queen of

Street Literature

Wahidas

D E D I C A T I O N

This book is dedicated to all of the

mystery/thriller/suspense/romance and more...

readers across the globe.

Amys

D E D I C A T I O N

This book is dedicated to my mother, Peggy-Jo Morford, who encouraged my love of reading at a young age and took me regularly to the El Dorado County Library to feed my habit.

Amys

A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T

I would like to thank my sister, Dana Morford, who through the years has always been my sounding board and editor on my many projects.

To everyone at W. Clark Publishing who assisted in the editing, proofreading, title and other miscellaneous things to make this book happen.

Thank You Nuance Art for designing a kick ass cover!

Last and not least: A big heartfelt thanks to the one and only, Wahida Clark, who encouraged, coached, and believed in me throughout the creative process of this project.

M

argos phone rang, and she shrugged at Carol, as if to apologize for cutting her off. Secretly grateful to have an excuse this time, she saw it was Abby again and wondered if this was an apology.

Hello, sweetie, she started but Abigail cut her off.

Did you tell Dad that I wasnt in school?

Margo could tell she was fuming. It seemed to be her daughters normal state of emotion where Margo was concerned.

I did, Margo confirmed. Abigail had been skipping school, and now she would blame her mother for whatever punishment David might dole out.

Im sorry, but I was worried about you. She had a million questions for Abby, none of which were going to get answered.

I hate you! Abigail screamed into the phone. I hate you, and I wish you had just stayed in prison.

The line went dead. Margo let out a defeated sigh. She put the phone back in her bag and shrugged her shoulders at Carol.

Kids! she muttered to herself.

T

he alarm clock blared and Margo groaned as she felt for the off button. She glared at the time, a whole four hours of sleep and it was time to start all over again. After a year of working three jobs, sleep was what she longed for. The dreams, however, were a different story. She rolled out of bed, and her feet hit the floor. There was no point in letting herself wallow in her current situation. She might not be an optimist, but if the last seven years had taught her anything, it was that she was as tough as nails.

Margo wrapped the towel around herself after getting out of the shower. Damn, if there was one thing she missed about her house it was taking a long, hot bath in her whirlpool tub after a long day at the office. Living at the motel sucked, even though she didnt spend a lot of time here. The plumbing was old, and showers were either scalding hot or ice cold. This morning, she had chosen frigid over third-degree burns and she was covered in goose bumps. She scowled at her reflection. The worry lines had become permanent recently. She checked her face for any other disconcerting developments. At forty-three, Margo knew that she still turned heads, tall and curvy, with long, auburn hair, and intense, green eyes that were still a distraction for men.

She rolled her eyes; she was a distraction for all the wrong kind of men. How long had it been now? No, she didnt have time for fantasy. Reality occupied all of her time, and there was little chance that Prince Charming was going to walk into the diner this morning and, between coffee and the check, offer to whisk her away.

Margo checked her uniform and her backpack before heading out. She would return sometime around midnight, almost comatose, and she would barely get undressed before falling quickly to sleep again. At first when she started this routine, she had told herself that working long hours would help her stay sane. Lately, she wasnt so sure.

She didnt have time to second-guess herself, and that was a blessing. It was three hours into the breakfast shift and the diner was slammed. Margo had waited tables on and off when she was a teenager, but had gone to college so these kinds of menial jobs would be forever in the past. If she could give her own children one piece of advice now, it would be to never say never.

Margo knew it was after nine, but not before ten, because she saw Sal walk in. He strode through the diner like he owned the place, and for all Margo knew, he might have. His dark hair was slicked back neatly; the touches of gray made him look even more distinguished. His suit was impeccable as always. He was the only man that shed seen in the year she worked here who wore cuff links. She had realized shortly after meeting him though that it wouldnt have mattered what he wore; he exuded a quiet power, and he knew it. The other customers were quiet when he passed by, and he took his usual seat. He always sat in her section.

Her cheeks flushed this morning when she picked up the coffeepot and headed in his direction. She blamed it on the fact that he flirted with her; sometimes she blamed it on the fact that she couldnt remember the last time she had sex, but Sals attention lately had made her long for a little romance.

Good morning, Sunshine. Hows my favorite customer today?

She smiled when she saw him. She couldnt help it; he was contagious and had that kind of effect on her with that twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Wonderful, Cookie, and hows my favorite waitress faring today?

His voice was gruff, and if Margo was honest, she imagined him calling her Cookie during some intimate moments.

Great, you want the usual?

He gave her those smoldering eyes and the look that kept her simmering lately. If I cant get anything else...

Their banter went back to the day they met, but the flirtation had become more heated lately, and Margo went in the back and eyed him from the kitchen. She had heard the stories; according to Vinnie, the line cook with a lazy eye, Sal was powerful businessman with ties to the Mafia. From her past dealings with the criminal element, she believed it. He was definitely a man who knew how to get what he wanted.