Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Ginevra storms across the suite, her eyes blazing. I would believe in her righteous fury if her fists weren’t clenched so tightly around the collar of the robe. She stops out of arm’s reach, panting hard, and I can practically see a complaint bubbling up inside her chest.

“You’re treating me like a prisoner.”

I raise a brow, daring her to elaborate.

“Well, you’ve left me with nothing but this robe!”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. I take a slow step forward, enjoying the way she stiffens.

“If you have complaints about the robe, I could always take it away.” I drawl.

She flinches, her arms crossing over her chest. Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, coloring her flyways a vibrant shade of amber. I stare down at my beautiful Ginevra, letting her anger feed my satisfaction. Is my little princess dissatisfied? Her torment hasn’t even begun.

With another step, I close the gap until our bodies mingle, the air crackling with tension. She stiffens but doesn’t retreat. Her breaths come in shallow, uneven bursts, and the resistance in her eyes flickers like a dying candle. She fights to hold on to her courage, but the way her gaze flits away before snapping back tells me it’s waning.

I lean in, just enough for her to feel the heat of my breath against her skin, and I savor the fine cracks in her composure.

She’s trying so hard to stay strong, to stand her ground, but there’s no hiding her helplessness. Ginevra is a trapped queen in a game I’ve already won. Watching her struggle to keep control is almost as satisfying as the victory itself.

“Having second thoughts?” I ask, lowering my voice an octave.

Her breath quickens, her lips press into a thin line. I let the silence linger, enjoying her barely concealed frustration.

“I never wanted to leave you, but my dad forced me to break our engagement,” she finally says.

Her words reverberate through my skull, and everything freezes. I stare into those defiant gray eyes, my mind racing. Why the hell would I believe the words of a woman who would try to manipulate an unknown stalker into committing murder?

Anger, sharp and consuming, flares in my chest, and my vision narrows to my treacherous little siren. Even if she’s telling the truth, she still let her father tear us apart.

She knew trouble was coming to the Montesano family, yet she kept her mouth shut.

My anger sharpens to a blade, slicing through any remaining doubts. I reach out, closing my fingers around her throat with a speed that makes her gasp.

Eyes widening, she stares up at me as if I’m a monster like Brisket.

“You should have come to me,” I growl. “We could have protected you, hidden you away. Instead, you chose to leave.”

Her breath hitches as I pull her closer until our bodies touch. Every primal urge screams at me to squeeze harder, cut off her air, but I fight to contain the boiling fury.

“You chose to be with him,” I hiss, my breath coming in harsh, controlled bursts.

“Benito—“

“No more excuses,” I snarl.

She whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut.

My mind snaps back to that day in the lecture theater, when she stood before me cold and composed as she dismantled my world. I asked what I did wrong, begged her for another chance, but she said she was happy with Samson.

Now, with her pulse quickening beneath my fingers, all I can think about is how easily she discarded a lifetime. My grip tightens, and I pull her so close that we’re sharing the same air.

I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “No more secrets. No defiance. Absolute loyalty.”

She jerks back, but I tighten my grip around her throat, my fingers pressing into the soft skin. “Don’t forget,” I whisper, my voice a low growl, “Your life hangs by a thread, and I’m the only one keeping you from falling.”

Ginevra tenses but doesn’t break free, but I don’t let go. Her breath quickens to a staccato rhythm that echoes the pounding of her heart. Ginevra needs to understand she’s in no position to make demands.

Finally, she nods, and I walk her back toward the bed. With a gentle shove, she stumbles backward, collapsing into the mattress like a perfect little wife. Face flushing, she opens her mouth to protest, but I turn on my heel and head toward the door.

Moments later, she grabs my arm. “Where are my clothes?”

I pause, letting her stew before sparing her a glance. She glares up at me, trembling like a soaked kitten, desperate and defiant in nothing but that robe. The sight of her fills the darkest parts of my soul with a sick satisfaction.

Arching a brow, I lean in just enough that she can’t escape the intensity of my stare. “Why do you want them, Ginevra? Planning to leave?”

She blinks, her face falling slack, as if she finds my question confusing. Her mouth opens, then closes, her eyes flickering as she struggles to find the words.

“You can’t keep me caged forever,” she says.

My lips twitch. I lean closer, my gaze locking onto hers, until her eyes flicker with doubt. “Good wives earn the privilege of clothing.”

Her lips part with a gasp, and those pretty eyes widen with shock. The anger in her features gives way to something vulnerable. But just as quickly, the fire returns.

“Are you demanding sex?” she snaps.

My mind fills with memories of her on her knees for Brisket, those pretty pink lips wrapped around my shaft. Ginevra might think she’s fooling me with this false sense of propriety, but I’ve seen first hand that she’s a dirty girl.

When I grab her throat again, my thumb brushes over her pulse point. Her breath hitches, and her eyes glaze.noveldrama

“Is that what you want?” I murmur against her lips.

She shakes her head, her face flushed, her lips darkening with lust. Heat rushes to my cock. My body thrums with tension, desire coiled tight. I could take her now, make her enjoy every moment of her submission, but that would be too easy.

Ginevra Di Marco needs to realize just how completely she belongs to me.

Wrong.

She’s Ginevra Montesano.

Warmth fills my chest at the reminder that I’ve made her my wife. No matter how much she protests, she’s mine until death. With no fiancé to tie her into kinky knots and no stalker to satisfy her urges, it’s only a matter of time before little Ginny begs for my cock.

Releasing her throat, I step back before I lose control. Without another word of acknowledgment, I turn on my heel and stride toward the door.

The moment I step into the hallway, the cool air slaps against my overheated skin, but it’s powerless against the inferno raging in my core. My muscles coil tight, every fiber of my being thrumming with unspent desire. It’s a raw ache that refuses to subside. I was a breath away from claiming her, from unleashing everything I’ve held back, and the restraint it took has left me on the edge of madness.

I limp down the hallway, my cock pressing painfully against my zipper. I need release, and fast. But for now, I let the desire simmer, let the anticipation build.

She’ll come around, and when she does, it’ll be worth every second of this agony.