Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I’m aching the next morning. It’s a dull throb that sharpens every time I shift in the driver’s seat. Morning light streams through the windshield, making me squint, but the glare pierces my eyes. I grind my teeth, trying to keep my focus on the road. But Brisket’s touch lingers like a stain I can’t scrub clean.

What the hell is his obsession? The question twists in my mind like a knife. I thought I could play him, use his fixation to my advantage. Instead, I’m left with an aching pussy to remind me I’m still caught in his web.

The streets are a blur. No one else is awake yet, the city still sleeping off the night. But I can’t rest. Not while Mom is in peril. She called early this morning to announce they’ve set a date for Friday and are buying a dress.

Over my dead body.noveldrama

I speed through a yellow light, too lost in thought to care. Mom’s waiting for me to help pick her outfit, and Bossanova is probably already sizing her up for a coffin. I can’t let her go through with this ridiculous scheme.

After pulling into a spot outside the Dolce Vita Boutique, I kill the engine and step out. It’s time to shake some sense into Mom.

The boutique reeks of money—soft lighting, plush carpets, and racks of dresses that scream excess. I push through the door, and the bell overhead chimes, turning everyone’s heads. Mom sits up from where she’s perched on a velvet settee, with Bossanova breathing down her neck.

She’s already tipsy. That leathery bastard is feeding her champagne, no doubt to make her pliable. Today, he’s dressed in a navy blue captain’s jacket, complete with a gold emblem on its chest. His gaze is flat, disinterested, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes when he sees me—a glint of calculation.

I cross the boutique, waving off the owner’s offer of champagne.

Bossanova leaps to his feet, his crocodile smile fading into something sour. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom invited me,” I say through clenched teeth.

He glances over at Mom, meeting her glassy smile. “I thought we were going to fuck in the fitting rooms,” he says, his words tight. “That’s going to be awkward with Ginny listening on the other side of the wall.”

My jaw drops.

Mom giggles, the high-pitched sound ridiculous and fake. “Stop making me blush.”

“Ladies, have fun,” he says, his voice slippery as slime. He strides past me, leaving a cloud of expensive cologne.

I glare at his back, wanting to fill him with bullets, especially as he pauses at the door, and turns back to spare Mom a mournful glance. “What a pity, baby. I would have taken you all day long.”

My stomach churns. I curl my lip, holding back a wave of disgust. The man is half-vulture, half-leech, all decrepit predator.

He gives her one last smile, all teeth and no warmth, before slipping out the door. As soon as he’s gone, Mom reaches for another glass, but I move faster, intercepting it before it touches her lips.

“Mom, we need to talk.” I pluck the flute from her fingers.

The sales assistants hover nearby, eager to push more alcohol— anything to keep the cash flowing. But this isn’t a conversation we can have in front of an audience. I need her sober, and I need her to listen.

I sit next to her and lean in close. “You need to push back this wedding.”

Mom’s hands curl into fists. “That’s impossible. We’ve already set a date and paid for the venue in full.”

“You’re walking into a death sentence,” I whisper. “If he doesn’t kill you, they’ll fry you for taking him out.”

Her gaze meets mine, losing all traces of drunkenness. “It’s him or us.”

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. “There has to be another way. Give me time to find it. Please.”

She shakes her head. “Those sharks came knocking at Valentino’s penthouse. Marrying him is the only way to keep you safe.”

I grab her hand, my insides crawling with desperation. “But you’re going to die.”

She pulls me close and whispers, “Better me than you.”

The words slice through me like a bullet. I rear back, my mind reeling with a pulse of shock. It settles so deep in my gut that I suck in a shuddering breath. Before I can recover, the door swings open, activating a bell.

Benito steps in, dressed in a black suit and a shirt that skims the lines of his muscular physique.

The sight steals the breath I just managed to catch. He’s with that same stunning brunette who had him wrapped around her finger at the restaurant. She’s flawless, elegant, dressed in red. The kind of woman who wouldn’t let anyone, least of all her father, break off an engagement.

And she clings to him like they’ve just spent the night making love.

Our eyes meet, and something inside me tightens. Benito’s expression is unreadable, his eyes sliding past me like I’m insignificant.

The dismissal is a knife to my gut.

I snatch away my gaze. Seeing them so happy together makes me convinced Benito’s proposal was a twisted game. Why would he want me when he has her?

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the proprietor rushing up to them with a broad smile. Benito used to be a regular here—this was where he purchased me gifts.

I shut down that thought. He has someone else now. He’s happy. The only thing he wants from me is petty revenge.

While I’m processing Benito’s indifference, Mom seizes a champagne flute from a passing tray and sways toward him.

“Benito, darling,” she calls out, her voice carrying across the boutique. “Thank you for arranging the doctor after the shooting.”

My heart lurches. Shooting?

I push past an associate holding a tray, catching up with her just as Benito’s eyes flicker with mild acknowledgment. His focus shifts immediately back to his new woman, who watches us with cool detachment.

“What shooting?” I ask, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Mom waves a hand. “Oh, it was just a little thing at Roman’s party. Some gunshots, a bit of chaos, and I got trampled in the mess. But Benito had me stay over at this house. Even got the family doctor to check me over.”

My stomach plummets through the floor. I knew Bossanova took Mom to the Montesano mansion, knew they spent the night there, but this is a whole level of negligence. I search Benito’s face for any hint of a reaction, but his eyes slide right past us, landing on the woman holding up a set of red lingerie.

“What do you think, baby?” she purrs. “Should I try this on?”

The tension in my chest tightens, sharp as a wire. I manage to force out the words, “Thank you for helping my mom.”

Without looking in my direction, he inclines his head, as if I’m beneath his notice. The woman beside him flashes a dazzling smile, enjoying every second of my discomfort.

Benito leans into her, murmurs something low before leading her toward the fitting rooms. She glances back at me, her eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction, before disappearing behind the door.

Nausea twists in my gut.

They’re going to fuck. Fill the boutique with the sounds of their pleasure.

Whatever love he had for me is gone. The Benito I knew was a gentleman, one who would never sink so low as to flaunt another woman to carve open my heart. But I guess that man no longer exists.

Mom places a hand on my shoulder. “Ginny?”

“Can we go somewhere else?” I ask, trying to hold back a well of tears. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.”