Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I hoped for begging, tears, maybe even a little groveling, but Ginevra strides to the elevator, her hips swaying. Heat tightens low in my gut, my instinct pulling taut against the leash. In the visor, I would tackle her to the floor and take what I need.

As myself, I’m restrained.

The refusal was disappointing but no surprise. I didn’t expect her to fall at my feet, but I also didn’t expect her to walk away with a dignified silence.

Instead of humbling herself, she stabs the elevator button, her movements jerky with impatience. I sit back, wondering what it will take for her to show me the same deference she gives her stalker.

The elevator doors slide open. Reaper steps out, clad in a black overcoat that barely hides the blood on his shirt. Ginevra brushes past him, oblivious to being in the presence of a killer.

As the doors close, a smirk tugs at my lips. Reaper catches it and lifts a brow.

“Why the change in venue?” he asks.

“Wanted her to see the view.”

Reaper glances at the Capello Casino, then back at me. “So, what’s next?”

I rise from my seat, move to the security control panel on the wall, and switch to the live feed. The screen flickers to Ginevra leaning against the elevator wall, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling with panicked breaths.

Reaper crosses the room and stops beside me to watch Ginevra’s mini breakdown.

“How’s your little project progressing?” he asks.

“Not as quickly as I hoped, but she’s an endless source of entertainment.”

He chuckles. “That’s because you’re drawing it out.”

“Pressure unlocks fascinating aspects of her personality,” I say with a smile. “Besides, she’s not ready to show me the appropriate level of deference.”

Reaper nods. He knows how well I treated her in his lectures. Taking her back before she’s broken will just repeat the same dynamic. I want Ginevra desperate, humbled, and appreciative. I’ll keep on the pressure until she folds.

“Ready to speak to the boys?” he asks.

As we walk across the penthouse to the low tables, my phone buzzes. Elania’s name flashes on the screen. With a swipe, I answer, and her office fills the display. She’s seated behind a desk with Aria, both looking like they’ve been at each other’s throats.

“Report,” I say.noveldrama

Elania leans back in her seat. “Everything’s set for tomorrow, but we need 50% of the payment upfront.”

Frustration tightens in my chest, but I sit in an armchair, keeping my expression neutral. What happened to family loyalty? Leroi never once mentioned prices, even though he cut through an entire bloodline of Capellos. We rewarded him handsomely without him whining about advance payments, yet her fixation with business is grating.

“You’ll get your money after the raid. I’ll send someone with the briefcase as soon as the cash is in hand.”

Elania’s eyes narrow. “We’ve been in this business long enough to know promises don’t pay bills. We want half up front.”

My jaw tightens. “Fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “You’ll have it first thing in the morning.”

Elania exchanges a glance with Aria. They might dress differently, but they still wear the same sour expression. Elania leans forward, her lips tightening. “Make sure it’s on time. Neither of us is playing games.”

“It will be there.”

The call ends. I place the phone on my chair’s arm and exhale. Reaper shifts on the sofa but remains silent. He knows better not to comment on family squabbles.

“We’ve already run through the plans, but we should go over the details again,” he suggests.

“Let’s get it over with,” I mutter.

He picks up a computer tablet and makes a call. Onscreen, the boys at the fraternity house are tense. They’re team leaders, young men in their early twenties, sitting around a large table. I gaze at the future of the Montesano family.

They’ve proven themselves with the successful raid on the meth lab and the rescue of Reaper’s sister. But that was a small operation compared to a billion-dollar enterprise guarded by a professional security team.

“Tomorrow night, we’re taking back what’s ours,” I say. “My father’s casino has been in enemy hands for too long, and it’s time this city remembered its true owner.”

The room falls silent, their expressions hardening with determination.

“This is about respect,” I continue. “It’s about sending a message to every backstabbing motherfucker that the Montesano family is back. We go in hard and fast—no mercy, no hesitation. Reaper and I will coordinate from the penthouse. Follow orders without question.”

Reaper leans forward. “The bomb threats we’ve set up at the governor’s residence, mayor’s house, and across multiple police precincts around town are in place. Cell Phone blockers around the building will leave the casino exposed and without backup.”

“Each of you knows your role,” I add. “Keep your subordinates in line. Don’t let them lose focus, and don’t hesitate to remind them what’s at stake if they do.”

My phone buzzes. The driver is broadcasting the feed from the limo. Ginevra now sits in the back seat with her head in her hands. As her shoulders shake with sobs, my veins thrum with satisfaction. She’s breaking. Her submission is only a matter of time.

Reaper clears his throat, pulling me back. Onscreen, the team leaders sit up straight, their eyes sharp with anticipation, their bodies tense. Our boys are ready.

“Have an early night. I want you all refreshed tomorrow to wipe out the last trace of that Capello bastard. Dismissed.”

The screen goes dark, leaving me staring at my reflection. We’re so close to victory, I can almost smell the metallic tang of blood.

Another message pops up on the phone, indicating that dinner has arrived. I unlock the elevator and allow a staff member from the mansion to enter, bringing in the scent of roasted lamb and garlic.

Reaper crosses the room and settles at the dinner table, taking the seat opposite mine. We wait in silence as the server lays out the plates and pours the wine. When the elevator doors slide shut behind him, we continue.

“Has Roman taken ownership of the casino?” Reaper asks.

Satisfaction settles in my chest at the thought of Capello’s empire slipping from his daughter’s grasp. “Everything’s in place. The deed was signed this morning. By tomorrow night, the Capello Casino will be nothing more than a memory.”

Reaper nods, his features tense.

Brows furrowing, I tilt my head. “Problems?”

“Isabella still insists on helping with the new meth lab,” he replies with a sigh.

I stab the meat, bitterness coating my tongue at the thought of Reaper’s sister falling into Tommy Galliano’s clutches again. “You’d think she would’ve had enough of cooking.”

“She’s lost the will to teach,” he says, his voice heavy with resignation. “Christian has no interest in school either. Cooking is all they have now.”

“Did she ever open up about what happened while she was under Galliano’s control?”

Reaper shakes his head and grimaces. “Never spoke a word.”

My gut twists. I wonder if Mother was ever happy with that bastard. Or if he coerced her into the breast augmentation that ended her life. Cesare killed the surgeon before I could investigate. Frustration presses down on my lungs, turning my breath shallow. Why do women leave good men to consort with demons?

Reaper narrows his eyes. “Why aren’t you at home, enjoying time with the family?”

I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “I can’t focus on anything but tomorrow’s raid.” His brow lifts, so I add with a smirk, “And her, I suppose.”

His smirk matches mine. He knows better than to pry, but he understands why Ginevra is always on my mind. Her betrayal has been a dagger in my side for years, and I’ll make sure she pays for every moment.

We finish the meal in silence, the weight of tomorrow’s operation hanging over us like storm clouds. We’ve studied the casino for years, planning the takeover with obsessive precision. We know the management team’s routines better than our own bowel movements. Despite our meticulous preparation, anything can still go wrong.

Reaper sets aside his plate and stands. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”

I nod, watching him leave. The moment he’s gone, I pull out my phone and bring up the feed. My pulse quickens as the car pulls up outside her home. I switch to the cameras I set up around her house, sit back, and enjoy the show.

Her movements are frantic, unsteady, as she exits the vehicle and rushes up the steps. She fumbles with her keys, and drops them once before finally unlocking the door.

Inside, Ginevra moves like a nervous bird, flitting between windows to lock them. She rummages through a kitchen drawer, her hands shaking as if preparing for a storm. When she extracts several tubes, my brows pinch.

Back in the bedroom, she squeezes the contents of one tube on the window sill before pulling it shut. It’s probably superglue. Over the next several minutes, she moves around the house, sealing every window. Once they’re secured, she takes a knife from the kitchen and slides it beneath her pillow.

I lean back and smirk. She thinks she’s safe, that she’s kept the monsters at bay. But she’s wrong. I’m the one she should fear. I’ll let her sleep tonight, because tomorrow, the real nightmare begins.