Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I walk through the casino, the dress clinging to my body tighter than dried blood. With each step, its tight fabric cuts into my flesh like a blunt knife.

Heads turn as Benito’s goon marches me through the crowd, their eyes raking over my exposed cleavage, fueling the fire of my humiliation.

My skin prickles under the gamblers’ scrutiny. Can they tell I’m fresh from a murder scene? Benito’s goon didn’t even allow me to wash off Julian’s coppery scent.

I drop my gaze to the floor, focus on the click of my heels against the marble, but it’s futile. The air is thick with cologne and cigar smoke, mingling with the sharp scent of fear.

My fear.

Everything is wrong. The Benito I loved wouldn’t force me into a Jessica Rabbit-style contraption covered in red sequins, but then he wouldn’t also be so cold.

Every step toward the chapel feels like a march toward the gallows, and an invisible noose tightens around my throat.

The rough hand gripping my arm steers me around a corner. The lights blur, and the voices blend into a muffled roar as we approach the chapel doors.

“Ready, Miss Di Marco?” asks the goon.

No. Not by a long shot, but I force a nod.

He shoves open the door, and we step into a room reeking of old wood and something that churns my stomach, but I only have eyes for Benito. He stands near the altar in his navy suit, his gaze sweeping down the front of my dress.

Maybe I should have come here naked.

A microphone screeches. I turn to the altar and find an Elvis impersonator fumbling with its stand. His wig slips over his sweaty brow, and I swear he painted on his sideburns without a mirror.

I tear my gaze from him and meet the smirk of my old law professor, Remus Cortese. What’s he doing here?noveldrama

My heart pounds against the sequins digging into my ribs. The walls close in, and I squint against the bright lights. I would scream or even run, but the alternative to marrying a man who hates me is a hundred times worse.

The Elvis impersonator clears his throat, making me flinch. “We are gathered here today…”

His voice is a caricatured Southern drawl. Any other day, it would be comical, but Benito’s gaze locks onto the side of my face like a hungry predator.

Every bone in this dress crushes my lungs, stealing my air. Black dots appear on the edges of my vision. I blink them away, trying to focus on the impersonator, but his words blend into the background noise of my pounding heart.

My legs threaten to collapse, but I lock my knees, refusing to fall.

“Do you, Benito Montesano, take this woman…”

The words dissipate into a fog of panic, only broken when Benito says, “I do.”

When it’s my turn, the words stick in my throat, but I manage to choke out, “I do.”

Elvis grins, his wig slipping to the side. I’m so entranced by how it seems to have a life of its own that I don’t notice Benito’s hand until it’s gripping mine, and he stares into my eyes with an intensity that could reduce me to ash.

The air thickens until every molecule smacks me in the face. There’s no escape now that I’ve sealed my fate.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Benito’s eyes darken to molten pools of black, making my heart skip several beats. He grips my waist and pulls me against his larger body with a force that steals my breath. Blood roars between my ears, and my nostrils fill with the heady scent of his sandalwood cologne.

All traces of his cold indifference evaporates in the heat of his gaze, and my muscles relax with relief. Exhaling away my tension, I wonder if we can finally make something work.

Before I can even complete that thought, his lips crash down on mine with a fervor that leaves my mind reeling. The room tilts, the lights spinning like a carousel.

All sensations rush south, and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep from fainting.

This kiss is wild, overwhelming, all-consuming. It floods my senses with heat and drowns out my terror. I’m swept up in his passion, unable to resist the feel of his mouth, which devours mine as though staking his claim.

He parts my lips with his tongue, making my heart somersault. My knees buckle, and I collapse against his chest, but his arm keeps me anchored within the storm.

I’m lost in Benito. Every rational thought washes away with his intensity. My world narrows to the feel of his lips, the mint on his tongue, the way he dominates me so completely.

My body can’t tell if it’s thrilled or terrified.

But when his erection presses into my belly, hot and thick and insistent, my panic ratchets to eleven. He’s aroused. He’s going to expect sex. I can’t face the demands of yet another man.

When he finally pulls back, I’m swaying on my feet, gasping and half-blinded by a lack of oxygen. Sparks of sensation crackle along my lips, and my mind won’t stop spinning.

This isn’t the Benito I knew. He was patient. Gentle. This man and his kiss has shattered every expectation, leaving me weak.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Elvis says, his voice barely registering over the roar of my blood.

The moment Benito draws back to meet my eyes, my knees buckle. I grip his jacket, trying to stay upright, but the dark spots spinning in my vision overwhelm the glaring lights.

His arm locks around my shoulders, pulling me back to his chest like I’m his prize. My lungs burn, and panic flares in my chest like a caged bird beating against my ribs.

Professor Cortese slides a pen into my fingers, and Benito guides my hand toward the marriage license. I sign, my handwriting shaky. The ink is barely dry when Benito snatches the paper, his eyes glinting with something dark.

I belong to the man whose heart I broke, and there’s no turning back.

Professor Cortese takes the license from Benito. He writes his signature with a flourish and turns back to us with an innuendo-laden congratulations.

I manage a nod, my throat tight, the weight of the day pressing on every nerve. Every fine hair on my body stands on end, and I feel like the world’s dumbest prey animal, especially since I’m caught in Benito’s gaze.

Without warning, Benito scoops me into his arms. The world shifts on its axis like I’ve stepped into another dimension. Breath catching, I dig my fingers into his lapels.

As he carries me toward the chapel doors, my gut twists with a knot of dread. When we were together, Benito was always so gentlemanly when we kissed. I never once felt a trace of any erection. Today, he made me feel the full extent of his passion.

It was long and thick, surpassing the dildos Samson forced me to fuck. Maybe even bigger than Bob Brisket. The thought of that psychopath makes me shudder.

Placing a hand on Benito’s chest, I whisper, “What are you going to do about my stalker?”

“He won’t bother you anymore,” Benito growls.

“Do you know him?”

“He won’t be difficult to weed out.”

“And Bossanova?”

“I won’t let that bastard near your mother.”

My throat tightens. “And the loan sharks?”

“I’ll pay them off in the morning.”

Exhaling, I force myself to relax, but my muscles remain taut. My body can’t forget the press of Benito’s penis. I can’t let this go any further—I have to say something, anything to stop him from taking me to bed.

“It’s been a traumatic day. I’m too exhausted to consummate this marriage.”

He doesn’t slow, doesn’t even acknowledge my plea. His face remains set in stone, his focus on the path ahead. When he turns away from the casino and through a staff hallway, my chest seizes.

“Just give me time, Benito. Please.”

His jaw tightens, but his pace remains steady. I may as well plead with a marble statue.

Before I can protest further, Benito shoves open a heavy door, releasing a rush of cool air. He steps inside a concrete room almost identical to the one from before. Without a word, he deposits me onto the floor.

“Benito?” I scramble to sit up, my fingers splaying against the cold tiles.

He walks out, slams the door shut, encasing me in the dark.