Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Was I a good girl for Brisket?

After tonight’s performance, I’m sure he’ll visit, wanting more.

I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, every nerve on edge as I wait for his arrival. The cat ear headband digs into my scalp, but I ignore the discomfort.

My mind is so scrambled, I can almost feel the tail swishing between my legs, but the soft paws rest on my thighs, making me feel ridiculous. And vulnerable.

But this is what he enjoys, and tonight, I need him to like me. I need to transform him from my stalker to my willing devotee. It happened once with Benito. I’m sure I can do it again with Brisket.

My bedside lamp casts long shadows across the walls. Maybe it’s the subsidence, but I swear the house creaks in the breeze.

I close my eyes, forcing my breath to slow, but my thoughts refuse to settle. How will Brisket react to my proposal? He’s dangerous, unpredictable—one wrong word, and everything could spiral out of control.

My fingers curl within these furry paws. What I’m about to do next is for Mom. Brisket is the only man who can take care of Bossanova.noveldrama

Doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind. Last time we met, I told him about my engagement to Benito, but that didn’t stop him from taking what he wanted. My rectum clenches around the plug. How can I gain control of a man who makes me so weak?

Uncertainty tightens in my chest, each second stretching longer than the last. I push away my doubts and focus on the goal. Figure out a way to lure him to my side. Then convince him to protect Mom.

An hour later, a faint noise pulls me from my thoughts. I freeze, straining my ears. The sound is coming from the closet—someone is trying to enter through the window.

My heart pounds in double time to the grating of metal against wood. I breathe fast, waiting for the sound of approaching footsteps. The sounds grow more insistent before making an abrupt stop.

That’s when I remember I superglued every window in the house shut.

Panic tightens around my chest. What if he leaves? Hurling myself off the bed, I rush to the closet. Breath quickening, I pass through racks of hanging clothes. There’s no one at the window.

With trembling paws, I fumble at the lock, trying to wedge it open. The glue is set like stone.

“Come on,” I mutter, shoving with all my strength.

The stubborn window refuses to give. The thought of Brisket giving up makes me sway with a wave of despair. I jerk harder at the handle, but the window remains sealed shut.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

Why does everything I touch seem to turn to shit?

With a sigh, I let go and step back. The band around my chest tightens as I turn and head back to the bedroom, my heart sinking with every step.

But when I reach the door, Brisket is already entering my room.

His imposing frame, clad in the usual dark tactical gear, fills the room with an ominous presence. The visor reflects the dim light, making him look like a faceless specter.

Relief and terror crash through my insides, making me grip the wall. Relief that he hasn’t left. Terror at the realization that he found a way to defeat the superglued windows.

My pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm that overtakes my conflicting thoughts. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To have him here, eager to do my bidding. But now that he’s looming in my bedroom like a punisher, I can barely keep myself upright.

I try to suck in a breath, but it hitches in my chest. The room tilts on its axis and shrinks, and the air thickens with his presence.

“How did you get in?” I rasp.

Without answering, he slinks through the dark with the grace of an apex predator. My heart skips several beats, and every instinct screams at me to run. I can’t tear my eyes away as he reaches an arm toward the bed. When he pulls back the pillow, revealing the knife I’d hidden there earlier, I swallow back a scream.

“Is that for me, little Ginny?” His dark voice sends a shiver down my spine.

My mouth opens and closes, but my lips form no answer.

His question hangs in the air like a noose. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it trying to burst out of my throat. He thinks I planned to kill him. And part of me wanted him dead, but that was before.

“Answer my question,” he growls, making me flinch.

My mind races. The thought of losing him terrifies me more than the knife.

“No, I swear, it was a mistake,” I blurt, my voice trembling. The words spill out faster than I can control my thoughts. “It was for knife play… In case you forgot yours. Don’t you think it’s pretty? I’m sorry, Mr. Brisket. Can we start again?”

I close the distance between us, my steps driven by raw desperation. This isn’t just about Mom. I’ve grown fond of his attentiveness. Even the silly gifts. No man has ever combined sexiness with such raw devotion.

Memories of our encounters flash through my mind, focusing on our time at the strip club. He forced me into submission, made me enjoy things I didn’t know were possible. The darkest parts of me enjoy his visits. Craves the power he holds over me, just as much as the dangerous thrills.

I force down my thoughts, trying to focus on the immediate threat: Brisket standing over me, still clutching the knife.

“The truth is that I’ve grown to look forward to your visits,” I add, my voice a breathy whisper. “You’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in my life.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even flinch. The visor hides his face, leaving me wondering how he’s reacting. I can’t tell if he believes me, if he’s amused or enraged, and the uncertainty is suffocating.

“Punish me, Bob. But please… don’t leave.”

I drop to my knees in front of him, clutching at his legs.

“Can we start again?” I ask. “I mean, have a real relationship? I need you so much.”

I stare at the cold, reflective surface of his visor, meeting a mirror of my own desperation.

The silence between us stretches, thick and suffocating. Then Brisket steps back, pulling away from my grasp. I freeze, my breath catching, trying to understand what’s happening. His shoulders tense, and his broad chest heaves.

My throat tightens. Is this anger or excitement?

“You need me?” His voice simmers with rage.

Flinching, I shuffle back, but he follows, looming over me like a specter. There’s a dangerous energy to him now, a dark fury that seeps into the room, making the air so thick I can barely breathe.

His breath hisses between clenched teeth, the only sound breaking the heavy silence. He lifts the knife, the blade catching the light as he steps closer.

My stomach plummets to the floorboards. I’ve crossed a line, and now I’m at his mercy.

Brisket waves the knife in my face.

“Get on the bed,” he growls. “I’m going to slice you into sashimi.”