Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Stalking Ginevra: Chapter 55



Ginevra lies on the four-poster bed, her kimono parting to expose legs I want to wrap around my waist. Half-asleep, she grumbles about the lack of internet, telephone connection, and underwear.

The irritation would be cute if she wasn’t such a backstabber, but there’s no denial that she looks adorable. Her gaping neckline reveals an expanse of creamy skin I ache to lap up like a starving tomcat, but I keep my expression detached.

After yesterday’s slip-up, there’s no need for me to add to her suspicions that she makes me weak.

When her complaints slow, I cut in. “Put on the clothes.”

She blinks, crinkling her pert little nose, her gray eyes flickering with suspicion. “Why?”

“Can’t I take out my wife for the evening?”

Her jaw drops, cutting off her complaints. Then she scrambles out of bed in a flurry of green silks, rifling through the boxes scattered on the mattress.

Maria from the Dolce Vita boutique packed all Ginevra could need for the night. She’s taken care of everything from makeup to her gown to accessories. I lean against the wall, enjoying the sight of Ginevra gathering the items into the larger box before disappearing into the bathroom to get ready.

The door clicks shut behind her, and my phone rings. Since it’s Gil’s name flashing on the screen, I don’t allow the call to go to voicemail. My brothers are both missing, and he and Reaper are leading separate search parties.

“We found your father’s vintage Mercedes,” he says from a noisy background. “It’s the last thing Roman was seen driving. We tracked it down to a scrap yard.”

My stomach drops. “What’s it doing there?”

“It’s been cubed.”

Anxiety punches me in the chest. Glad to have the wall at my back, I ask, “Any human remains?”

“None.”

Hearing that should be a comfort, but it feels hollow. What the hell happened to Roman? And to Cesare? I knew nothing good would come of turning an entire firm of assassins into a crater. Did either of them send out a follow-up crew to track down the survivors? Did either of them care?

We have so many enemies, from the Galliano family to the assassins. The thought of any of them going after Roman and Cesare sets my blood to ice. After telling Gil to double his efforts in locating Roman, I dial Reaper.

“Pull back all the men from Bellavista,” I say, my voice tight. “Focus on finding my brothers.”

Reaper hesitates. “What happened?”

I breathe hard, trying to stave off a surge of panic. “I don’t know yet, but something’s off.”

Over the next several minutes, we deploy teams around key sites within New Alderney. Some of them interrogate informants, others employ drones to search wooded areas. Even our friendly cops, Rizzo and Barzelli, expand their patrols.

There’s a chance that it’s nothing—my brothers might be holed up with their women, too obsessed with their whirlwind affairs to care that I’m turning the world upside down to find their irresponsible asses. But they could be in any amount of peril, including dead.

Who the hell could be behind their disappearances?

The bathroom door opens, and Ginevra emerges, dressed in a deep emerald gown that clings to her curves. Her auburn hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and her eyes shine with a brightness I haven’t seen in years. The sight is enough to stir a sense of longing deep in my chest.

Her bright smile reminds me of the girl who stole my heart. I should tell her to change back into the kimono and order room service. I should explain that something important has come up. But when she spins around, showing off that perfect ass, my pulse quickens to the point of insanity.

All thoughts of my missing brothers crumble to dust.

Then she crosses the room, encasing me in her honeysuckle and vanilla scent. It wraps around my senses, making it impossible to think straight.

“Where are we going?” she asks, that soft voice a siren’s cry.

As my gaze drifts down to the nipples protruding through the green silk, I decide that Reaper and Gil can handle the search parties. In my current state, I’d only get in the way.

“Casino,” I say, fighting to keep my tone steady.

I can’t afford to let her sense the way my pulse races, the way my thoughts scatter with her so close. Keeping my face in a mask of iron, I hold out my arm.

She loops hers through mine the same way she did when we were younger. At one point, Ginevra knew me better than anyone. The thought of her slipping past my boundaries is dangerous.

We step out of the suite and head toward the elevator in silence. She clings to my arm on the ride down, her touch amplifying the tension coiled in my balls.

I should be thinking about Roman and Cesare, should be worrying about that cubed Mercedes, but my mind keeps slipping back to Ginevra. I’ve had this woman on her hands and knees, wearing cat ears and a fluffy tail, yet seeing her dressed like a lady erases everything. My entire world condenses to the way her body brushes against mine, and how her fingers graze my forearm.

The doors open into the lobby connecting the hotel to the casino. Lights glitter from the ceiling, reflecting off the polished floors and bouncing off the wall’s gold embellishments.

Distant chatter beckons us forward, along with the tinkling notes of a grand piano playing Sinatra. As we continue through to a walkway above the casino floor, the air fills with a buzz of excitement, and not just from the tables.

Ginevra glances from side to side, taking in all the sights. In my periphery, I spot several men casting me envious glances, while their female companions stare at Ginevra’s dress.

She’s intoxicating, a vision in the midst of sin. In a world filled with nearly four billion women, my eyes see only one.

Her bright chuckle breaks the silence. “Remember when we snuck in here all those years ago?”

She nudges me with her elbow, her laugh infectious, and for a moment, it feels like old times. The two of us against the world. The weight of the years we’ve spent apart slips away, replaced by a fleeting memory of simpler days.

I don’t let the nostalgia settle. Falling into this trap and reverting to her loyal acolyte will only get me discarded again for the type of man who would stomp over her dignity.

After all, Ginevra couldn’t get enough of Bob Brisket.

Or Samson Capello.

She leans in, her lips brushing my ear, and whispers, “I used our winnings to buy that ridiculous fake diamond necklace. You were furious, but you let me keep it.”

Her breath, warm against my skin, sends a shiver down my spine. My jaw clenches in a desperate attempt to keep my focus on the present. She’s trying to rebuild our connection, but I know better. She will never get inside my head again.

“You were happy,” I reply, my voice tight. “That’s all I cared about.”

Her laughter softens into something more intimate, the kind of sound that wraps around a man’s neck like a garotte. She gazes up at me with those siren’s eyes, dredging up the memory of her betrayal.

Despite all that, she’s no less captivating.

We reach the main floor, greeted by the casino’s cacophony. Lights flash from the slot machines, cards slap against tables, mingling with the murmur of voices. The casino has been reborn, becoming sleek, powerful, untouchable. Just like me. And just like this place, Ginevra will be mine again, refashioned to fit my world, whether she wants it or not.

But everything fades into background noise when she slides her hand down my arm, her finger tips caressing my skin.

“You don’t have to keep me at a distance forever. We were good once, weren’t we?” she murmurs, her voice coaxing.

She stops, pulling me to a halt. Her wide, earnest eyes search my face, the vulnerability in them twisting my fraying heartstrings, making me want to believe she’s still the woman who once loved me with all her soul.

But she’s not. She never was.

I tilt my head, my lips tightening. “We were young and stupid. You made sure to remind me of that when you left.”

Her lips part as if to argue, but she can’t drum up a quick enough excuse. Hurt flickers across those beautiful features as she lowers her lashes. “I tried to explain, but you wouldn’t listen.”

My jaw clenches, and the air thickens. We’re surrounded by the opulence of the casino, but all I can focus on is Ginevra. She’s right. I cut her off earlier when she raised the subject of our breakup. But the more she speaks, the more I want to open up my veins and bleed for her.

Emotions swirl in my chest—longing, nostalgia, love. My fingers twitch, itching to touch that creamy skin, to pull her close and erase that distance.

But I resist. Barely.

“Your engagement to Capello was in the papers within days of our breakup,” I grind out.

Her pretty features flash with guilt before she hardens her eyes and squares her shoulders. “Do you really think I would walk away from you if I had the choice?”

I don’t answer. Nothing should separate twin souls.

Remembering us means remembering everything—how her body felt against mine, how she used to kiss me with the kind of passion that could burn down the world, how she whispered that she loved me before tearing out my heart.

Before I can stop her, Ginevra steps closer, her scent—a mix of honeysuckle and temptation—curling around my senses, suffocating my resolve. She places a hand on my chest, her fingers splayed over my heart as if she’s activating its rapid, uneven beat.

My blood roars, drowning out the chatter, the click of roulette wheels, and the shuffle of cards. I stiffen, every muscle tightening in defense.

“You’re still in there,” she whispers, her breath ghosting over my lips, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her skin. “The man who loved me.”

I grab her wrist, needing to push her away. Instead, I’m suspended in this infernal tension. My grip tightens just enough to remind her—and myself—that I’m still the one in control.noveldrama

“Do not mistake me for the same man,” I snarl, even though every cell in my body screams for me to pull her in, to claim her mouth.

Her lips tilt into the smallest, most dangerous smile. “Good. Because I don’t want the man you were. I want the one you are now.”

And that’s when she leans in, closing the last few inches. Her lips brush mine, a feather-light touch that sparks a fire so intense it threatens to consume us both. I want to pull back, to stop this before it goes too far—but the truth is, it’s already too late.

I crush my mouth to hers, all the pent-up frustration, anger, and desire I’ve been holding back crashing into that kiss. Her fingers dig into my chest, and her body molds to mine, every curve igniting a thousand memories I’ve tried to bury. The heat of her skin seeps through the silk of her dress, searing through my suit like a brand.

She tastes like sin—dangerous, forbidden, and utterly addictive.

I let myself drown in Ginevra’s warmth and scent, remembering how perfectly we fit together. It’s like I’m back with the girl I fell in love with—the one who used to steal my sweatshirts, curl up in my lap, and laugh like I was her entire world.

But then reality slams back into my senses, and I tear away, my breath ragged and my heart pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest. That girl I loved no longer exists.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” I rasp.

Ginevra gazes up at me, unmoving, her lips swollen, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

She thinks she’s won, but she hasn’t.

Not even close.


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